The Lateralus Duet - 1 - Schism
by Valyssia
Like Water
[reviews]
I know the pieces fit 'cause I watched them tumble down. No fault, none to blame. It doesn't mean I don't desire to point the finger, blame the other, watch the temple topple over.
Buffy scanned the walls of the spartan office. Her gaze fixed on one horrid motivational poster after another, finally coming to rest on 'courage.' I found it. She cast another bright, cheery smile at the young man who manned the front desk of the security agency. Not leaving till I see someone who has the authority to say, 'You're hired.' The rest I can fake.
Wonder if the gang's managed to get anything figured? The 'able to move' is nice; the 'not knowing'...not so much. Any luck, it won't inspire any more impromptu research parties. Buffy's eyes grew just a little bit wider, then she choked down a gasp. Hoping the guard hadn't noticed, she covered with another smile. Shit! That's why Xander and Will were being all cloak and daggery last night. My birthday! Oh please, please let them forget. More 'Buffy Birthday Horror' would not be of the good. You'd think they'd learn. Maybe they have. I sure hope so. I've had about as much 'birthday fun' as one girl can stand in a lifetime. The sound of her name stirred her out of her reverie. Steering her attention from the crappy motivational poster, she met the young man's gaze.
"Sergeant Wallace will see you now, Miss Summers," the young guard said, directing the blonde to follow him. Well, she's persistent, I'll give her that. Sitting almost motionless for two hours. It's a bit odd. He knocked on the door and ushered the woman in after he heard his boss say 'yes?' "Good luck, Miss Summers," he offered cordially, then made his way back to the front desk.
Buffy took the man's hand and seated herself in the offered chair. She reflexively answered the expected platitudes and casually crossed her legs.
"Miss Summers, what makes you believe you'd like to work in the security field?" Sergeant Wallace asked in an amiable tone. He turned to his computer, dividing his attention between the screen and the petite blonde. She wouldn't make it five minutes.
A subtle smile played at the corners of the slayer's mouth as she reflected, Games. He's already dismissed me. I can see it in his eyes. "Look, Sergeant Wallace, it's no surprise to me that when people look at me they see one thing." She made eye contact briefly with the security officer, "You'll have to believe me when I tell you I could be great at this job." She uncrossed her legs and smiled, taking in the aloof expression on the older man's face. This is so cheap. "Course, that's what this is really about: me convincing you." She stooped to untie her dress shoe with her left hand, then slowly lifted and carefully balanced the heavy wooden desk about six inches off the floor with her right.
Startled, Sergeant Wallace noticed that his hand was rising with his mouse. He was stunned. After the temporary shock wore off, he looked around. The desk drifted back to the floor and he shot out of his chair. He peered over his desk at the young blonde woman. She appeared to be tying her shoe. He internally chastised himself for looking at her cleavage.
Buffy sat back up and crossed her legs, meeting the older man's gaze. "You're probably gonna think a lot of things—dismiss that as some trick, magick or something. Maybe it was. The important thing to remember, simpled up: I made you wonder," she winked, "And if I can do that to a smart man like you, Sergeant Wallace, think I might have a shot at dealing with a few drunk frat boys?" After flashing another friendly smile at the befuddled older man, she stood up and offered her hand. Once he accepted it, she shook and said, "I know you're a busy man. I'll just show myself out."
***********
Willow carried a plain cardboard box into the Magic Box and placed it on the table with a heavy thump. Ignoring the others, she turned to the bookshelf and began searching.
Xander rubbed his hands together and cheerfully teased, "Whatcha got in the box, Will? Presents for me? I hope. I can hope, right?" Glancing over at Anya afterward as she waited on a customer, he smiled.
After finding the book she wanted and settling in to read, Willow replied, "Yup, just for you, Xander," while pushing the box across the table to her friend.
"But I didn't get you anything." Xander looked excited until he opened the box then his brow wrinkled with uncertainty. He extracted one of the four heavy steel plates and swiveled its articulated anchor-point. "Planning on moving something heavy, Will?" he inquired with marked interest.
"Nope. Need those installed in the house. They're rated at ten-thousand foot-pounds. I'd like the mounting to retain that sort of integrity. Is that doable?" Willow remarked distantly while she read.
"Get a pet rhinoceros?" Xander quipped, still looking over the heavy anchor-point. He fidgeted with the steel plate a little more and glanced up. Willow was giving him that look, the one he dreaded most. He blinked once as he looked over the arched eyebrow, scanning down to see the pursed lips. Oh boy. "It'll take me a few days to get everything together, but sure, it's doable. Can I take these with?" Why does my mind always go to the naughty place? It could be perfectly harmless. Like...I dunno...they just bought an airplane and they wanna tie it down in their living room. Umm...or...or...okay, I got nothing...
Her expression warmed and Willow offered sweetly, "Thanks, Xander." She dropped her attention back to the book for a moment, then added, "Oh, and, Xander, when you come over to put those in...wear baggy clothes." I really don't wanna know.
Xander dropped the metal anchor-point on the table with a clank. "It'd be helpful to know where," he prompted, not sure if he wanted an answer.
Willow glanced up from the book long enough to give her friend another look that said, 'cute comments may carry a death sentence,' then replied aridly, "The bedroom."
Xander's face blanched as he fought the rush of naughty images. 'Kay, so...I shouldn't ask questions. Questions are bad. I'll be just over here gouging out my eyes with a spoon.
Anya walked over, took one look at Xander, cocked an eyebrow, then smacked him in the back of the head. She glanced down at the anchor-point and remarked, "Oh! bondage fun with the slayer. Yes, that could be problematic, but I think you might be over-engineering the solution." She picked up the plate with both hands, "I don't think Buffy's that strong." After carefully replacing the thick metal plate, she glanced up, noticing that they were staring at her again. "What? I mean, what else could it be? Did someone give you a pet Fyarl demon? If so, get rid of it. They're cute when they're young, but they grow up all too soon."
Willow rolled her eyes and sighed, then glanced over at Xander, taking in the deep crimson hue of his skin.
"Floor or ceiling...or both?" Anya asked in a curious innocent tone. Glancing from one face to the next, she was completely bewildered by their reactions. I just don't see why they have to be such prudes about sex. It's perfectly normal and healthy to want to experiment. "Because Xander and I once—"
Willow rushed to cut Anya off, "Could you do both? I mean, and make it—well, hide them?" she babbled nervously at Xander.
"Sure...don't see why not," Xander replied honestly. The images returned and he was quickly wishing someone would just shoot him. He rushed to add, "We'd need more of these."
Willow swept up her jacket and purse then rose from the table. "How many?" she queried, starting for the door.
"One or two...depending on how... The foot—err...umm...floor mounts can be positioned so you—" Xander stuttered, grateful for one of the first times in his life that Willow was leaving. I'm gonna die.
***********
'Kay, so...this is crazier than my standard brand of crazy...and that's pretty bad. Buffy peeled off her clothing as Willow stood silently watching her. The callousness she could feel radiating from the witch gave her the creeps, but she followed the instructions and lay down in the middle of the old bedspread that covered their bed. When she was settled, she slipped the blindfold on and stretched her arms and legs out. Noise filled the room—the creaking of wood rubbing against wood, then the rattling of chain—finally cold steel snapped closed around one wrist. She listened as the process repeated for each of her limbs, then the door shut. She pulled against the bonds, feeling the rough steel scrape her wrists and ankles. I wonder how long she'll be gone.
Buffy pulled with all her strength against the chains. After a couple of minutes of struggling, she gave up and lay still. She was allowed a pretty minimal range of motion. Without much trying, she'd managed to open up cuts deep enough that she could feel blood sticking to her skin. Her wrists and ankles burned. As she calmed, it occurred to her exactly how twisted and erotic her situation was. She began to consider what Willow might do and her body started to automatically respond. It took mere moments of dwelling on this for the comforter to grow damp underneath her. She wished she could touch herself. When she pulled at the restraints she could feel the scabs tearing free. Blood began to seep from the wounds again. What the hell was she thinking? She must've intentionally made these things rough.
The position she'd been left in was mildly uncomfortable. Buffy wished she could close her legs a little. Her feet each seemed to be right on the edge of the queen sized bed. She lay musing over the events of the last few days, trying to occupy herself and take her mind off the discomfort. Job interviews and fruitless research over the latest piece of insanity only took her so far. Finally her mind just went blank. When she'd just about made up her mind to call out, the door opened.
"I suppose you've figured this out by now?" Willow prompted as she undressed.
Buffy turned toward the sound of the voice and replied, "Hadn't given it much thought, actually."
While the slayer answered, Willow cast two quick spells to seal and silence the room. Then she replied in a matter-of fact tone, "I need to have a talk with your furry little friend, Buffy. We need to reach an understanding." She watched the look of comprehension come over her partner's face. "Every Tuesday and Friday night, you will undress and lay down exactly like you are now. The rest of the week we can just be..." She trailed off, shaking her head slightly, then picked up a strap-on and started to buckle it.
Buffy flinched at the noise, not knowing quite what it was.
"If we need to adjust later to fit our schedules, we will. Right now, these fit pretty well. I don't have to be anywhere till afternoon," Willow offered dully.
Buffy could hear the lack of enthusiasm in the witch's voice. "Look, Will, there might be other ways. I mean we could try—"
"No, I'm just not looking forward to this," Willow said as she picked up a long thin whip. "If I could think of a better way...I'd—I'm so sorry, Buffy."
Buffy heard the words and registered them at about the same moment that she heard the swish and cracking noise. Her chest and stomach were instantly alight with pain. The sweat from testing her bonds amplified the anguish. The second lash was harder and cut her in across the stomach. She winced and a low, feral growl poured out. Reflexively she started to fight, pulling hard on the shackles. Her wrists and ankles stung. The third lash cut her left nipple and she screamed out in rage. Venomous fury consumed her; she wanted to kill whatever had caused the pain. Her mind fogged as the slayer thrashed against the restraints.
***********
Ahh...Friday night at The Bronze. Just doesn't get any better. Xander scanned the crowd of teenagers while he stood in line for drinks. His gaze rested on a familiar face in the corner near the back exit, then his mouth fell open. After a moment of floundering around a bit too fish-like for his self-esteem, he managed to avert his eyes. He glanced forward and realized it was his turn to order drinks. "A Sex on the Beach and a draft," he told the barman as he got out his wallet. While he waited for the drinks, his attention drifted back to Buffy. She was sandwiched between three people: one man in front of her, one behind, and a smaller woman stood at her side. He was studying their subtle movements when the bartender snapped at him. With no small effort, his attention turned back. He paid, then took the drinks.
Xander played the 'dutiful boyfriend' and returned to the table with their drinks, rather than doing the first thing that came to mind. Taking a sip of his beer, he asked over the music, "Ahn, didn't Will say she'd be home all night with Buffy? I mean...we asked, she declined and all that, right? Am I missing something?"
Anya glanced up from her drink, taking in the puzzled expression on her fiancé's face. She quirked an eyebrow and answered waspishly, "You were there, Xander."
"'Kay...just checking... No actually, more like wondering," Xander replied, taking a large gulp of his beer.
"Wondering what, Xander?" Anya inquired curiously after she sipped at her drink.
Xander took another healthy pull off his beer to numb the response. It did little good, so he finally stated bluntly, "Not so much...just wondering why Buffy's over in the corner getting fucked by two strange guys."
"Really?" Anya got up, appearing a little too excited. After craning her neck to peer around the crowded bar, she finally asked, "Where?"
A short debate took place in Xander's mind. He eventually arrived at the idea that he may've been seeing things. A second pair of eyes could prove him wrong and stop the need for violence he was beginning to feel. Wanting to beat up a slayer for cheating on your best friend...badness. "Come with me, Ahn," he said, offering his hand to help her rise from their corner booth. He led her up onto the catwalk, offering insincere excuses as they pushed past people.
Taking another healthy sip of his beer, Xander looked down. The music had grown more energetic and so had their movements. There was no mistaking it now. Two attractive younger men were pressed against Buffy, moving with the rhythm of the music. A sheen of sweat coated her face and her head was thrown back. Buffy was panting for breath. Xander felt dirty as he watched her. She was in a stretchy, sheer-lace chemise that clung to her form and a short, black leather jacket. The chemise had ridden up and clung around her waist. She was fingering the dark-haired young woman that blocked the majority of the crowd from viewing her. Suddenly her eyes snapped open and she met his gaze with a seductive smile, then turned to give the girl a hungry kiss. There was something not quite right about her besides the obvious.
Anya peered down with marked interest. "Oh a ménage à trios," she pointed, "Well, if you ignore that annoying little girl. And who wouldn't?" then sighed wistfully, "Remember when you were split by that icky Toth demon?"
Xander nodded and mechanically answered 'yes' to Anya, but he was much more interested in Buffy. He received a slap on the shoulder for his lack of attentiveness and ripped his eyes from the scene below them. "Yeah, Ahn, I remember."
"That's what I wanted," Anya replied utterly unabashed.
Xander stuttered anxiously, "Huh? Wait—what?" glancing over to give his fiancé an incredulous glare.
Anya completely ignored the outburst. Scanning the slayer's face carefully, she leaned in to ask, "When did Buffy get that scar?"
Xander looked at his friend as she pulled out of the kiss and blinked. Anya was right, there was a scar on her right cheekbone. It was very fine and sort of hard to see. Buffy winked at him and closed her eyes, then she came. The dirty feeling returned when he heard her cries. Stuck again by a need to act, he rushed down the stairs but, when he got there, she was gone. He gave the two men a scathing glance as they fastened their flies, but he was too interested in Buffy to drag them out back at the moment. He ran out the door and looked either way down the alley. She was gone. He made his way back inside hoping that the two men would still be there. During his flight of fancy, they had left as well.
Xander scanned the room for Anya and found that she was actually right beside him. He leaned in to speak over the music and said, "I wanna run by Buffy's and see."
Anya took Xander's hand and followed him out of the bar.
***********
Buffy clutched the girl's hand as they moved through the cemetery. "What's your name, sweetie?" she asked with marked interest.
"Mary," the girl replied nervously. Her eyes shifted in the dark as she imagined movement. As the seconds ticked, she grew progressively more apprehensive. Finally, she questioned in a shaky voice, "Are you sure we wanna be out here?"
"Relax. There are worse things out than vampires tonight," Buffy answered in a soothing tone.
"Wh-what's that?" Mary stuttered. Her gaze fell on the beautiful, petite blonde. She searched the impassive face, looking for answers as they continued to move at a leisurely pace.
"Me," Buffy responded frankly. Stopping for a moment, she smelled the air. They were alone.
Mary turned toward the blonde, not sure quite what she meant. Her gaze drifted down the lithe, muscular body in front of her. When her eyes adjusted to the low light, she flushed with arousal just studying the details. The sheer black chemise she wore was bordering on obscene: she could almost make out her pubic hair, even in the low light. The collar; short jacket that just covered her nipples; and thigh-length, black leather boots all made her look a bit like a prostitute.
Buffy took a seat on one of the headstones and coaxed the girl over. "How old are you, Mary?"
"Sixteen, but I'll be seventeen in April," the girl offered. Her hand slipped under the clingy chemise, pushing the fabric up.
Her hands moved to caress the doe-eyed girl's face. Pretty little thing. Not sure I'm up for taking more advantage than I already have. Buffy considered this, trying to decide whether she cared or not when the girl's fingers slipped inside. A subtle moan rolled off her lips and her decision was made. When the girl dropped to her knees, she pressed Mary's eager mouth greedily into her sex. Her back arched over the wide granite grave marker as a low guttural groan rumbled through her. I love it when problems solve themselves.
***********
Dawn answered the door on the tenth knock, wearing her robe. "What?" she asked irritably.
Xander smiled sheepishly at the younger Summers, countering anxiously, "Is Buffy here?"
"I guess... I haven't seen her, but I said good night to Willow," Dawn responded groggily.
Xander was torn between inviting himself in and allowing the young woman her sleep. Guilt finally won out and he said, "Sorry, Dawn. Would you tell them we'll be by in the morning?"
"Sure," Dawn answered simply as she shut the door.
Xander watched her move sluggishly toward the stairs running her fingers through the disheveled hair.
Anya shot Xander an impatient glare and queried, "Aren't you going to tell her that we saw her sister having sex at The Bronze?"
Xander sighed then started for the car. "I hope not...like never... Not exactly looking forward to telling Willow. Never, ever, ever wanna tell Dawn," he mumbled in an exhausted, morose tone.
***********
Buffy stirred blearily from the most intensely erotic dreams of her life. The aroma of sex still lingered in the air mixed with something strange and slightly floral. Her hand was cupping her sodden center. After a moment or two, she removed her fingers and opened her eyes to stare vacantly at the sleeping redhead who was holding her this time. Umm...wow. What the hell? She lifted her head to see if the dreams were real. There was a large, angry-looking bite mark at the apex of Willow's right shoulder muscle, dangerously close to her neck. Shit! She raised her hand to look at her wrist. There was a ring of partially healed skin and it hurt to move the joint. Well, this is beautiful. I wonder what Will's up to 'cause this is...
Her entire body ached as Buffy rolled out of bed. She glanced at the clock. God, it's noon. She grabbed her robe and headed to the shower, not really wanting to inspect the damage. She was sore in places she didn't even know had. The bite on her neck stung worse than most of the other injuries. Her ankles were next on the list. We're gonna have a talk about the shackles. That's just mean. She turned on the shower, waiting for it to heat up, and removed her robe. She recalled the first two lash marks on her chest and stomach, but the thin pink stripe across her breasts was a complete mystery. The bruises on her inner thighs almost made her grin. Bet she's gonna be one sorry puppy.
Buffy stepped into the shower and leaned against the wall, waiting for the hot water to work some magic. Her eyes flitted open when the door shut, but she didn't move. It was a matter of seconds before soft hand caressed her back, guiding her to stoop over. She took the faucets in her hands to steady herself. The shower head moved directing water to flow over her back, then waist, and finally her aching core.
Willow moved the shower head around until she'd rinsed the entire surface of the slayer's skin then she returned it to the mount and directed it at her partner's lower back. She looked over the minor bruises and contusions. "I'm sorry I was so..." she offered, trailing off with guilt.
"Yeah—umm—" Buffy managed to stutter as her lover took a soft, clean washcloth and dried the water from her sex. The sound of a jar opening caused her to look around.
"It's an ointment I mixed up to help," Willow offered as she scooped out a generous portion.
Buffy understood what the smell was the moment the jar opened. Her body melted when her lover started to massage the slippery mixture over the entire surface of her center.
"I sorta used a little magick to make it work quicker. I hope that's okay," Willow offered sheepishly.
Buffy went completely non-verbal, she couldn't have answered if she'd cared to when her witch inserted two fingers coated in the strange ointment inside her. A sharp gasp slipped out when the other hand dropped to massage the fragrant salve into the surrounding skin.
"I didn't want this, Buffy, but the more I researched, the more it made sense," Willow remarked while she gently caressed the silky flesh.
Buffy gasped in ragged, choked breaths. The rhythm was gentle and soothing, but her body disagreed as it began to tremble violently. Her grip tightened on the faucets. There were brief breaks in the gentle touch to add more of the aromatic salve, but her partner finally settled into a subtle cadence and her body succumbed to the tender ministrations. She clenched her jaws to bite back a throaty cry as her body wracked and trembled. Her vision clouded while waves of pleasure coursed through her. As she drew quiet, the hands slipped away. Finally she managed to stand up and turn to face her witch, slumping into her arms.
Willow held her partner and whispered, "It took almost four hours last night to get the slayer to lower her eyes, but she finally did."
"Huh?" Buffy gasped incoherently. Her eyes blinked furiously for a moment as she tried to clear them, then she leaned back to meet her witch's gaze.
"You were the one that gave me the idea, Buffy." Willow sighed and picked up the washcloth. She reached around her partner to wet it then poured a generous portion of some sweet-smelling liquid soap into it. When she started to bathe her lover's skin, she spoke again, "You said 'animal' and I sorta figured, if anyone would understand—so I treated it like that. It was worth a try." She tried to press down the feelings of guilt that started to surface. Her manner drew very subdued, almost clinical as she offered, "Predatory animals pretty much all have some sort of dominance code—social structure. Subordinate members of the pack or pride always look down, not meeting the gaze of more dominant ones."
Oh my god. She's trying to break—no wonder I hurt. Buffy stood frozen as her witch bathed her. Finally she managed to clamp her jaw shut. When she recovered enough to comment she said, "You're insane. You did get the memo, right? Y'know this is sorta the same thing that tried to kill us in our sleep?"
Willow nodded. "Yeah...got that. I'm not afraid, Buffy. Someone needs to before it—you said it was getting stronger—more demanding," she whispered as she stooped to wash her lover's legs and feet. Her gaze fell on the bruises between her partner's thighs and she added, "I just don't like having to hurt you. If it was something you'd remember I couldn't do it."
Buffy considered telling her about the dreams then thought better of it. If she can, it'll be a good. She turned away, to rinse her front as her witch tenderly washed her back. "The biting... I'm sorry. It only happens the once, normally. You're the first one that's bitten back, though. It's more than a little weird."
"Not really... It's one of the things that told me you were right," Willow observed candidly as she reached around to rinse the cloth and hand it off. When her partner turned back, she remarked, "I used the same spell I used the other night when I released her. It didn't take long for you to come back once it was over. When I was sure it was you, I let go. It was actually kinda sweet. You snuggled up into my shoulder."
After Buffy stepped back to allow her witch to rinse and enjoy the shower. Embarrassment almost took hold, but she pressed it down and mumbled, "I sorta woke up..."
"You sorta went to sleep like that. I guess you needed the gentle. I almost—but I couldn't. We need to keep this separate. It's a bit too strange not to," Willow commented honestly.
The embarrassment took hold and Buffy stepped out of the shower to conceal it. After wrapping herself in a towel, she remarked with concern, "I wonder where Dawn is? I haven't heard her."
"Let's finish with the 'taking care of' and we'll go see if there's a note," Willow offered as she shut the shower off.
***********
Low light leaked in through the tightly shut drapes of her bedroom. Mary adjusted the large pad in her lap and stared at the face of the woman in her bed. Who are you? I don't even know your name. A fine-boned, pale hand moved to trace the contour of the strange woman's jaw on the large white sheet. Gentle sweeps followed, spreading the powdery graphite to give the line shadow and depth. Her eyes darted back and forth between page and subject as she worked. She pressed her bare feet into the mattress, leaning back in the chair. The hand moved and another curved line filled in, following the curtain of blonde hair that hung around the woman's face.
A subtle smile lit her features while Mary worked, hands both moving against the paper, one to create the shapes and the other to smear the media. Pausing from her efforts, she peered at the handcuffs that bound the woman's wrists to her headboard. How could anyone sleep like that? She wouldn't let me free her. I can see—maybe for the kinky fun, but all night? Maybe she was afraid she might hurt me. She went back to work drawing the shape of the woman's neck, the slope of her shoulder, and the exposed breast. I s'pose I should be afraid. Funny, I'm not. I just know she won't hurt me. Even after seeing what she meant... She was protecting me. Where'd she learn to fight like that?
Buffy drifted out of the fog of sleep, reflexively breathing in. The air in the girl's room was thick with the musk of sex and an array uniquely human smells. Her eyes still shut, she remained perfectly still while she examined the girl sitting at the bedside. She could hear the frail heart, smell the blood, and taste the girl's flesh on her lips. She has to get it by now. You'd think she'd be scared. Alone in a quiet house with a hungry vampire. It'd be the right response. But she's perfectly content. Not a hint of fear.
Mary continued to play with the sketch, gently shading the subject. Weird to go out just on a whim. I didn't expect anything. I was just bored and needed to leave the house. I saw her and knew exactly what she was doing. Something drew me to her. I'm not even sure what it was. I walked up to her and she kissed me. Before I knew it, she was touching me and I didn't want her to stop. I still don't. After several more moments of fussing with the image, she held it at arm's length and shrugged. Not bad. The chair tipped forward and her feet hit the floor. She folded the pad closed and tucked it under her arm, then picked up the chair, moving both objects back to her desk. When her sketch pad was safely tucked away beside the desk, she went to the bathroom to wash her hands.
As the girl entered the room, Buffy spoke in a voice just above a whisper, "Mary, I'm hungry." She felt the girl freeze in her tracks. Now she's firming up. Smart girl.
Mary scanned the vampire's face and suddenly amber eyes opened to meet hers. Their gazes locked for an instant and all the apprehension left her. The hunger was palpable. Her own lust mixed with the vampire's. It was strange how similar the two things were. She still doesn't want to hurt me.
When the girl approached her, Buffy was a somewhat surprised. She watched the terrycloth bathrobe hit the floor. The girl's modest form appeared like a porcelain doll to her. She watched her move, considering how beautiful this young woman actually was. As she drew closer across the large bedroom, the scent of her almost caused the demon to surface. She struggled to push it down. I don't want her to see that. When the girl pulled the covers back and draped her body on top of hers, Buffy gasped. A soft thigh pressed into her sex causing her to shudder. The girl met her in a ravenous kiss, but Buffy managed to wrench free. She wanted nothing more than to sink her teeth into the slender pale neck that was inches from her mouth. She studied the fine features of the girl beneath the curtain of raven black hair that shrouded their faces. She's giving herself to me. Complete devotion. Her muscles tensed, drawing the handcuffs tight against her wrists. They bit in, causing just enough pain to clear the haze. Mustering all the strength she could find, Buffy whispered, "Mary, I need you to go get—I can't. I've never fed off a human. Not so much wanting to. Can't miss what you don't know." The girl's lips brushed hers and she wordlessly rose.
***********
Buffy sat on the edge of the bed, carefully examining the bite mark on her witch's shoulder. It made her feel horrible. She applied the antiseptic and Willow winced.
"There's no reason to guilt, Buffy. I went into this with my eyes open. I knew what it meant...maybe better than you," Willow offered in a soothing tone. Her hand went to the slayer's thigh, caressing her through the thin slacks.
"How long, Will?" Buffy asked frankly as she spread a thin layer of the salve on the open wound. Jeeze...I almost bit through into the muscle. I've never...I don't even know how—how should I feel?
Willow shrugged after her partner applied the bandage. "As long as it takes. I'm not sure what to expect." She picked up her blouse and put it on, beginning to button it as she reflected, "What I want, I'm not sure it's possible. I want her to refuse to make eye contact—to drop her eyes when she sees me. All I can do is keep trying...if you're willing." A soft sigh slipped out then she added, "I understand how hard this is. Strange, I don't think it bothers me half as much as it does you."
Her brow crinkled with mild confusion as Buffy remarked, "It doesn't bother you to—" cutting off because she wasn't sure which part of the previous evening was most disturbing. Her mind then snapped to the thing that hurt the most and she added, "Th-that I hurt you?"
"No, I actually let her do that. You didn't hurt me, Buffy. I allowed it to happen. She needed the mark," Willow responded bluntly. Her gaze met the disbelieving look in her partner's eyes and she winked. "Nothing happened that I didn't allow. And frankly...being marked as your mate... I can think of lots worse things." A reassuring smile settled, warming her features. "The whole thing—it's so intense. The only thing I could live without is the start. It hurt—not just you, me. But I want her to surface quick and...I guess, overwhelm you. Angry...she wanted to tear my head off. I could feel it."
She actually enjoyed it. Buffy pushed down the shock. Finally, she managed in a dry voice, "You liked it?"
Willow grinned in spite of herself. "Umm...yeah... What's not to like, Buffy? Well, besides the obvious...and even that? If I knew it wasn't disturbing to you... I-I dunno...I could get used to it. I'm not a very vanilla girl. I like a little..."
Buffy took her witch's hand and offered honestly, "The part I didn't like was the waiting. I mean yeah...pain, but...if we could just start and you avoided my chest. That still hurts. Oh...and what's up with the manacles? Why the—?"
"To piss her off. I want her mad. Out of control—y'know? She didn't control anything. I know they hurt, but—" Willow responded bluntly. Her brow furrowed as she tried to understand. "So, you didn't m-mind?"
"I didn't love it, but I can see your point. I can't think of a better way either," Buffy commented in a flat voice. Then she snapped on Willow teasing her about punishment. Maybe this is it. What I deserve. "It doesn't bother me. I'd prefer you hit my back, though," she offered, resolving herself to whatever justice her witch wanted to dish out. Her mind wandered back to the pieces of the dream she still recalled. Bright green eyes locked with hers...with the slayer's. Challenging...defying the slayer to look away. She did enjoy it. Weird. Her body flushed as she considered just telling her partner. No, she'll be less likely to really—I deserve it. "Whatever you think, Will. I trust you," she mumbled distantly. Movement downstairs tore her out of her revere and Xander's voice broke the silence of the house.
Willow tore her thoughts away from Buffy and responded to the sound of her name by standing. We'll have to finish this later. She slipped out the door and bounced down the steps to greet her friends. "Sorry, we sorta..." she offered apologetically.
"Umm...Will, I need to talk to you alone."
Willow was completely befuddled by the expression on Xander's face. He looks like someone died. Oh goddess...not again... She pulled him away from Anya and Dawn and whispered, "Did someone die?"
"No, Will, just come outside," Xander shot a scathing glance up the stairs at Buffy and pulled Willow out the door with him.
"Huh?" Buffy gasped. Her expression crinkled with confusion as she looked back and forth between Dawn and Anya.
***********
Buffy took a sip of the warm sticky fluid in the glass the girl brought her. Setting the glass aside, she rubbed her sore wrists and looked down at the crown of the girl's head, nestled between her thighs. A tingle crept up her spine as the warm lips and tongue caressed her sex. She wants to be there. A subtle movement prompted the girl to look up and meet her gaze and Buffy slid down on the pillows, spreading herself open. As the girl moved down to continue her display of adoration, Buffy whispered, "I'm not sure—I don't know what you're thinking, but you need to understand something. Vampires can't love. We can obsess. We can desire. We can consume," the girl looked up and her expression twisted into a quirky smile, "But we can't love," she concluded, returning the smile.
Mary laid her head on the vampire's thigh and fondled the moist, supple skin with her hand. She was so freaked out when—she almost ripped the bed apart. It's like she has to—or she feels...and the feeling...very bad. She's fine as long as I touch. "What happened to you?" she whispered nervously in response, watching the vampire lift herself up to take another sip of blood. When their eyes met again the vampire was giving her a look that made her want to curl up and die.
As the rush of images and sensations hit, Buffy reached down and pressed the girl's mouth greedily into her sex. The girl winced under the harshness of the touch, but she disregarded it and growled, "More," brushing the question off entirely. A soft groan slipped out as the girl flicked her tongue against the sensitive mass. When the girl slipped her fingers inside, she repeated the demand, "I said more!" Tears slid down her cheeks. Make me not feel, Mary, please. Teeth scraped the sensitive flesh and her body wracked. The few fingers were replaced by the entire hand. "God yes," she cooed. A mix of pleasure and pain washed over her. She was grateful when the thoughts faded, replaced by the trembling and the merciful haze. There was no fear, no doubt, no self-loathing in the touch, just comfort. Buffy moaned contentedly as her young lover crushed against her.
***********
Buffy couldn't stop laughing. Her mind raced stumbling over the facts and their possible causes. The most possible was that there was someone out there that looked a lot like her. Will I ever be able to show my face in The Bronze again? Not without... Shit! Her gaze moved to Xander. The expression of complete bewilderment on his face made her laugh more.
Willow glanced nervously at her partner. "So, you said, 'exactly like'? Not just a little like, but the same?" she prompted in hopes of some clarity. Her hand absently went to seize the slayer's, putting enough pressure across the joints to make her wince and, more importantly, stop laughing.
Xander appeared completely confident as he confirmed, "Exactly."
Buffy jerked her hand away and flexed it, giving her witch a dirty look. Who am I kidding? This is Sunnydale. Just like me...exactly. This is way past 'average disturbing.' Couple stops south of 'plain old disturbing.' Last night...nothing compared to this 'disturbing.' Apparently I can get fucked lots of places and ways all at once without the enjoyment or the remembering. I wonder if I'll get to dream about the foursome in The Bronze. That'll be nice. My life...I need just a bit more 'complicated.' Getting control, simpling it up...not so much. God hates me. That has to be it.
"That's not exactly true," Anya interjected. All eyes turned to her and she noted, "Remember the scar, honey?"
Xander added excitedly, "Yeah...oh, oh yeah...she had a scar on her right cheek."
Willow took her partner's hand again and started to lead her from the room. She glanced over her shoulder, offering a quick apology, "We need a minute, sorry." Once they were outside seated on the porch, she remarked, "We should tell Giles. He may have something." She sighed, taking in the sullen expression on Buffy's face. May as well...they sorta relate and she's not gonna get any—it won't make it much worse. "I'd like to tell him about both. Could be valuable," she added in an uneasy tone.
Buffy couldn't believe her ears. After giving her partner an incredulous glance, she replied, "Sure, Will, and we might be able to afford a five minute radio spot if we pool our money," the glance turned to a glare, "We should tell your parents too. I mean I'm sure you've got an elderly, Yiddish grandmother out there somewhere who'd really love a card. 'Ira and Sheila Rosenberg would like you to join them in congratulating their daughter: Dominatrix to the Slayer.' Could be really Hallmark stuff," she grumbled.
***********
Dawn had started to blush as she caught pieces of the discussion on the porch.
Xander took the younger Summers' arm and led her into the kitchen, saying, "Alright...who wants popcorn?"
"I'd love some popcorn, but that was just getting good, Xander. Can't we do both?" Anya replied as she stood in the kitchen door, splitting her attention between the conversation on the porch and the sudden interest in snacks. She frowned as Xander herded her into the kitchen. "You're no fun." Her face drooped in a sulky pout.
***********
Ripping her gaze from the witch, she peered off into the street. "Y'know...I don't really give a shit," she shook her head, "Do what you want. Fact is...everyone in this little fun-fest is... What do I get? I get stares from our friends that make me think like last week's porno was tame compared... I get to—I get the blame and none of the happy," she fumed bitterly, trailing off to spring to her feet and pace.
'Kay, so...stupid idea. "Buffy, look, all I'm saying is...there's nothing. I looked at the watchers' diaries for something about—and it's a complete blank. There's not even a single word about the simple stuff. I won't give him lots of detail. Just the basics. It could be useful. Just consider it. You can say 'no,' " Willow offered patiently. After a few moments of watching the slayer pace, she beckoned to her and pulled her into a gentle embrace. "This other stuff. Giles needs to know. We don't have to tell him anything. Just 'double Buffy' and that's all."
"Whatever...you're right," Buffy mumbled under her breath. I deserve it.
Willow stood up. "You sure you're okay?" she asked with marked concern.
"I'll be fine, Will. Just no details...especially about the other. It's really freak-some that there's another..." Buffy offered trailing off to avoid stating the obvious.
***********
Dawn leaned against the kitchen wall and looked puzzled. They never include me...and, considering, I might be glad. Despite the lack of information, she was catching up with the facts. There's a doppelganger out there wearing her sister's face and apparently being very naughty. There are a few things that can cause that. "Has anyone made any wishes lately?" she interjected, trying to draw their attention.
Xander glanced over at Dawn and gave her a reassuring smile then answered, "Umm...no wishes here. Well, not the kind with the talking."
Dawn glanced from face to face as her sister and Willow entered the room. "Wishes," she restated, watching them shake their heads 'no.' No wishes. There was something though. When everyone's attention had lapsed, she slipped out of the room to grab a book. I know I saw it somewhere.
Willow shook her head. A deep sigh drifted out before she concluded "'Kay, so...who's up for research?" Call Giles and hit the books. Sounds like another fun-filled evening on the Hellmouth.
***********
"What's your name?" Mary asked as she settled into the curve of the vampire's shoulder, pulling the covers over them. I wonder if she realizes how cold she is?
"Anne," Buffy answered reflexively. Her attention drifted as the girl's hand dipped between her thighs. Good girl. A soft moan crept out then she offered, "I need to do some things tonight, but I'll come back if you make me one promise."
Mary scanned the face of the vampire as she absently fondled the moist, supple flesh. "Anything," she replied honestly.
"No more questions," Buffy stated plainly. Her hand went up to smooth the soft black hair away from the girl's face. "I'll stay until Monday morning. When you wake up I'll be gone. Don't look for me." She said her parents were away till the end of the month, but I don't want—if she gets attached it'll hurt her. I need to move on. Strange, how familiar that is. What is it with rich people abandoning their kids in this town? I wonder what Will would say.
Mary nodded in agreement then replied nervously. "I just—I'm just curious."
Buffy's body tingled under the gentle touch. Perfect. "I get that. Doesn't change what I am, Mary. I'm never gonna be what you want. I can do two things; anything else is meaningless." An extended silence passed between them. It was the first time she'd been completely at peace in recent memory. She settled into the tender caress, letting it sweep her away.
Her thoughts drifted as Mary lay in the vampire's arms. Finally she managed in a soft almost frightened voice, "I know—umm...this is a question. Don't freak. Just don't answer if you don't want to," she felt the vampire tense, "Why me? I mean...you could've left with either of those guys. They were totally into you." Her attentions slipped back to tenderly caressing the soft moist folds of the vampire's sex to soothe her.
Buffy considered how to actually answer this for a moment. It was a reasonable question and not terribly personal, but then at the same time it was very personal. She's looking for reassurance. I could tell her that I find men threatening. That'd be funny after The Bronze...after she watched me rip three vampires apart with my bare hands. It's true, but talk about a contradiction. She winced as her thoughts strayed. Her awareness shifted back to the touch and she moaned then whispered, "You remind me of someone I once loved." She turned to pin her young lover, pressing their foreheads together. "Now, no questions, remember?" she chided in a silky voice. Her thigh pressed into the girl's sex and she silenced her with a hungry kiss.
Afternoon dissolved to evening as they touched. Buffy listened to the contented sighs her little lover made. When the girl finally succumbed to her caresses, she noiselessly rose to prepare.
Mary lay mute, watching the vampire dress when she returned to the room. Tight leather pants stretched over her form this time. The chemise was tucked into them and the jacket zipped over the top. She's going hunting—two things.
Once she was dressed, Buffy picked up her backpack, "I'll be back before dawn," she offered in a flat voice and slipped through the patio door into the night.
And I'll be here. Mary rolled onto her side. Her mind filled with warm thoughts of the strange vampire as she drifted peacefully off to sleep.
***********
Buffy steeled herself as she stood in front of the crypt. It's just Clem. She knocked on the door and opened it.
"Oh Buffy... There's a Star Trek movie marathon on Sci Fi," Clem offered cheerfully as he rose to greet the slayer. A curious look came over his face as the vampire drew closer. "Is-is everything okay?" he asked sheepishly, taking in the distinct lack of breath or pulse.
"I'm fine, Clem. Just more in touch with my dead side these days," Buffy replied, understanding why the demon might be nervous. She watched his brow furrow. Huh...more wrinkles...who'da though it possible. "It's cool really. Still killing the bad and making the rounds," she offered reassuringly. Her posture changed to reflect confidence though she was anything but. "Look, I was wondering if you might've found some keys?"
Clem looked the vampire over. She's a couple miles on the other side of 'fine.' In fact, 'fine' was about five exits back. "Umm...yeah and I found something else that might—well, I kept hoping Willow would drop by," Clem replied moving to the table by the TV, he picked up a stick and a small ring of keys, then handed them to the vampire. "Could you make sure she gets that?" he asked amiably. Weird...normally vampires are all grr-argh... You can feel the malevolence a mile away. Buffy as a vampire...not so bad... Still not buying the 'fine.'
"Sure, Clem. I actually have something else for her, so..." Buffy replied then set off for the door. Why would Will want an old stick? She shrugged and set off for home, stowing the keys while she moved and fishing out a small gift box. The familiar walk didn't take her long and she was soon standing at the front door, listening to all the familiar noises. Her face paled as she heard her own voice. She looked down at the stick then listened again. The pieces fell into place and she panicked. Dropping the items in her hands, she ran.
***********
"Did you guys hear something?" Buffy asked, shifting around in her seat on the couch anxiously.
"Maybe," Willow replied honestly.
Buffy rose and went to the door, standing on her toes to peak out the window. When she opened the door, a small, gift-wrapped box caught her eye. She stooped to pick it up and glanced at the tag. Shock reflected on her face as she studied the tag. It was labeled with Willow's name in her own neat script. She tried to dismiss it by considering how many people might have similar writing styles but, the more she studied it, the more it fit. Her expression fell utterly placid as she closed the door and took the box to her witch.
Willow looked at the tag and said, "I should be giving you—not you me. Your birthday's tomorrow."
"It's not from me," Buffy replied in a flat voice.
Everyone in the room stared at the box for a moment as Willow glanced from it then back to Buffy. Finally she opened it and pulled out a tiny microchip. It was so small that she held it in her pinky nail to allow the others to see.
"Well, now we know what to get the girl who has everything," Xander quipped in a futile attempt to lighten the mood.
Willow quietly got up and moved to the dining room table. After depositing the tiny speck of black plastic carefully on the table, she went to find a magnifying glass. I'm not sure—I may need a microscope, but maybe... I think I know what this is. She returned with the large lens in her hand, then peered at the tiny writing on the chip. Buffy was leaning over her shoulder and the entire party seemed to have moved to the dining room. Finally, after straining her eyes for a few moments, she passed the lens to the slayer. "You look," she instructed, relinquishing the chair and stepping aside.
Buffy took the magnifying glass and played for a minute with focal length and light. Then she read off, "I-1047-HST-17," and her face sagged. "The chip...it couldn't be removed without killing him, right?" she asked apprehensively.
"The Initiative probably could've, but...Buffy, consider where it came from," Willow replied thoughtfully.
"Where we think it came from," Dawn interjected, trying to be optimistic. Dunno why I bother. Doesn't so much work. In fact, pick the worse possible and you can pretty much predict the future around here.
Buffy slumped back in the chair. "Spike's dead." Without warning she sprung to her feet, pushed past Xander, and ran for the door.