The Lateralus Duet - 1 - Schism
by Valyssia
Misery's Shadow
[reviews]
I've done the math enough to know the dangers of our second guessing, doomed to crumble unless we grow and strengthen our communication.
Willow tilted her head forward and pinched the bridge of her nose between her middle finger and thumb, sweeping the fingers across her eyes. I need a bigger headache. Think If I asked nice, this one could be twice the size it is now? She leaned back in the desk chair and glanced over at the blonde on the bed. She's waiting patiently for sex. Strange, I can feel the hurt from here. She thinks she's been bad 'cause I'm not touching her, I won't violate her. I can't believe I had to argue with her over wearing clothes in our room... I finally gave up. It was pointless. At least I managed to get Dawn outta here. Maybe they'll find something—something I haven't considered. She's better off with Giles now anyway. Things here are pretty much a train wreck. She leaned forward to cup her face in her hands and the chair squeaked.
Buffy turned her attention to the floor at her owner's feet, taking in her posture peripherally. I don't understand why she's so upset. "Did I do something wrong?" she asked sheepishly.
"No, Buffy," Willow replied bluntly, speaking through her hands. I need to quit putting this off. Headache or not, I need to see. I wonder if she'd think she was bad if I just—I just want to hold her. After several moments of simply sitting and massaging her temples, she stood up and began to undress. "You haven't been bad, Buffy. I just want to hold you. Is that okay?" she offered in a soft melancholy voice.
Buffy slid over to make room for her owner. "Yes, but I don't understand. If I haven't been bad, then why do you look at me like that?"
Once she was in bed, Willow pulled the covers over them and wrapped Buffy into a gentle embrace. "It's hard to explain, Buffy."
"Why won't you fuck me? Don't I please you?" Buffy asked in a quiet, ingenuous manner as she nuzzled her owner's shoulder.
Willow glanced down at the woman in her arms in alarm. Oh Goddess! She would think that. Her tone was thick with surprise as she offered, "Oh no, Buffy, don't think that. It's not you, it's me." She gently caressed her partner's back to soothe them both. When the tension had sufficiently eased, she whispered, "Buffy, I'm gonna put you to sleep. You may have some dreams, but it's okay. I won't let anything happen to you. 'Kay?"
"Yes, but I'm not sleepy," Buffy confirmed simply as she ground her drenched sex into her owner's thigh. A subtle moan escaped and she grinned when her owner moaned too. She does. She continued to crush against her owner's thigh, feeling the changes in her body.
I'm gonna spank her. 'Kay, so...maybe not, but... Willow ignored the writhing and focused her intent when she was prepared, she whispered, "Sleep, Buffy." The rhythm drew more subtle, but didn't stop as her partner drifted into a heavy slumber. "Morpheus, grant me witness the reflection behind my lover's eyes," she whispered and fell instantly into a deep, sleep-like trance.
***********
Willow's eyes fluttered open in a crushing darkness. She was colder than she'd ever been in her life. Something sharp dug into the naked skin of her hip and thigh. She wanted to roll away from it but her ruined knee and the confined space prevented her from moving. A rumbling noise sounded all around her. I'm in the trunk of a car. She tried to move, but her hands were cuffed between her legs. The chain and handcuffs cut into her groin and butt cheek. Finally, after a great deal of struggle and pain from the injured knee, she managed to slide her wrists to a position halfway down her thigh, looped behind the leg. Better, but still freezing.
Her teeth chattered from the cold as Willow lay alone in the dark. It seemed like forever before the car slowed. Fear leapt up inside her when it did. Better alone in the icy darkness than with him in the warmth and light. God knows what he'll do. The car shut off. After what seemed like almost an hour, there was a noise from the metal surface above her. She flinched as the trunk lid rose. Spike glowered down at her. She shrank away from him, but he was too strong. A blindfold closed in around her face and she was lifted from the trunk. She bit the inside of her mouth as his boney shoulder dug into her side. I must have at least a few bruised ribs. The rest of her body was too numb to register any injury.
Willow's hands were momentarily freed, then relocked in front of her. Then she was set into a hot tub of water. The water made her frozen numb flesh feel like it had all been hit by a hammer. She clenched her jaw muscles to avoid screaming. The pain was miserable for awhile, but her body warmed and, about the time she started to enjoy it, he lifted her from the tub. She could feel again as he toweled her dry, her bruises stung each time the towel passed harshly over them. Eventually, she felt herself being lifted off the ground. When her feet hit the floor she was forced to bend over something cushioned. It felt like a piece of furniture. Then her hands were freed and locked below her to a metal bar. A cushion was slid in behind her trapped hands. A sleeper sofa? She felt him moving around her. Manacles fastened around her ankles. After he was done she tried to move her legs and found that they must be secured to something solid. There was no support under her chest and her body soon sagged onto the back cushion of the couch.
Sound filled the room and a small amount of light crept past the blindfold. Television. Then something grabbed Willow's hair and pulled her up. A voice rang through the room, "You will mind me," and her mouth filled with cool flesh. He clamped his chilly hands around her face, preventing her from closing her jaws. She retched as his penis brushed her throat, but she pressed down the impulse to vomit. She felt him moving against her, sliding himself in and out of her mouth. Eventually he slipped out after filling her mouth with bitter fluid. She wanted to spit, but fear consumed her, so she choked the sickening stuff down.
***********
From behind the veil, Buffy heard the slayer laugh. The sound, like a mad cackle, echoed in the peaceful darkness and she stirred. "Leave me alone!"
The slayer called back into the black, her tone thick with mirth, "Your witch is a foolish little girl. See how she tortures herself for you? Noble dreams. She thinks she can help."
The darkness filled with malicious laugher once more and Buffy stirred. She pulled back the veil and watched in horror. The dreams, the nightmare memories she herself couldn't face, were still there but, instead of her, the victim bound like a doll to the ugly old piece of furniture was Willow. What the fuck are you doing, Will?
Her tone was rich with disdain as the slayer cooed, "She sacrifices herself for you in the name of 'love.' Isn't that sweet?" She slipped from the shadows to face the pathetic crumpled form of her host.
Buffy's gaze fixed on the twisted, dark figure. Somehow, in her mind's eye, she'd expected the demon to take the visage of the first slayer. It surprised her that the form who stood before her was very much like herself. Hygiene still not so much her thing. She looked over the blackened, filthy skin of the demon, scanning the surface for signs of movement, a feigned strike, a subtle twitch. Her eyes narrowed with contempt. "What would you understand about love?" she snarled, meeting the malicious, crimson gaze.
The lithe slayer crouched ready to spring. She placed a twisted, clawed hand to her chin in a mock gesture of pondering. "I wonder what would happen if I—?"
Buffy dove at the cruel, twisted mockery of herself, screaming, "No!"
The slayer sidestepped and slipped neatly out of harm's way. Her face twisted into a hideous smile, exposing yellowed teeth. "That's right, child. You play with me. Leave that pathetic little shell to offer comfort to your beloved witch. You belong in the dark here with me."
"You unbelievable bitch!" Buffy spat, then rounded on the demon. The word choice made her cringe and, while she reacted, the slayer drove her to the ground.
***********
Time became meaningless to her. Sleep was a luxury. Willow nodded off, slumped onto the cushions of the couch, and he was soon riding her. His mood varied and he explored all three options as time passed. He spoke to her, but what he said was empty and she refused to answer. The only breaks from this existence were brief and rare. He would take her to the toilet and sit her down, allowing her to relieve herself. There was more than one time when she felt like begging for this, but she bit back the urge to ask, to speak at all. There were more times when she considered just letting go her bladder and taking the beating that would come. The lack of speech seemed to annoy him more than anything and he would rant and beat her to try and get a rise. She was pleased it upset him so much.
Suddenly one day things changed. Willow heard the outside door open and felt the rush of cold air and something wrapped tightly around her throat. She was released from the couch, but the manacles and cuffs were replaced. Then a leash locked to the collar and he towed her into the next room. The blindfold came off and she blinked back the rush of light. She muzzily watched as he locked the end of the leash to a heavy anchor in the middle of the room. She could see. This idea was so foreign to her that she found her eyes hurt from the light. I guess he got sick of taking me to the bathroom. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her lips were parched from lack of water and her cheeks were drawn from hunger. Her eyes were dark and sunken from lack of sleep. There was a large bruise from one of the many times he had smacked her. She blinked at the face in the mirror and almost didn't recognize it as Buffy's. She was dirty and her first impulse was to shower. I wonder if he'd beat me. Do I really care? No, if he kills me I'm free.
Willow was shocked by the thought. Goddess, she wanted to die.
Willow sat on the edge of the tub and swung her chained legs into it then turned on the taps. The shower was one of the most wonderful things she could remember. She stood under the warm flow of water until he barked her name. There was a harsh pull on the leash and she almost fell over, catching herself on a metal railing next to the tub. The tugging continued and she held to the rail as she tried to turn off the faucets. Not even bothering to dry off she crawled out of the tub and made her way to him as he pulled on the leash. "You will mind me! Come when I call you, bitch." A cruel hand stuck her across her damp face. He sat back in the chair and snapped his fingers, pointing at his crotch. She shivered as she kneeled and did what he required. Hunger and a desperate need for sleep tore at her as she serviced him. When she was done, she went to the bed and lay down for the first time in days. How many days? She didn't know, but she was asleep within moments.
There were no windows in the shabby little room. Time continued to flow together. Day and night were meaningless. Willow only knew exhaustion and hunger. He continued his cycle of allowing her to sleep just enough that she wouldn't collapse and waking her to violate her in the method of his choosing. She was too tired and hungry to care.
"I'll feed you if you say my name." Willow remained silent. I want to die. When she didn't answer him, he came over and jerked her out of bed by the leash. "You bloody thick little bint!" A cold hand clamped down on her arm and she was pulled to the edge of the bed and bent over. Her eyes filled with tears as he started to violently sodomize her. Fingers wrapped in her hair and her head was jerked back to its limit. Then something hard hit her on the side of the ass. "Paddle you like the spoiled brat you are!"
When he finally pulled out, Willow listened to him leave the room. She heard the refrigerator open and the sound sent a wave of anxiety through her. What the hell is he up to? Her question was answered seconds later when something incredibly cold slid into the tender orifice he'd just finished abusing. She gasped, then immediately chided herself for making the sound. "Like that do ya?" Oh yeah, Spike, nothing quite as sexy as getting something icy shoved up your ass. She thought maybe the abuse had ended but, when she tried to move, something smacked her across the butt cheeks, hitting the cold, Pyrex butt plug. She winced at the sound it made and her body trembled involuntarily. The paddle smacked down again and again until she was just about to pass out from fatigue. It became a part of the ritual. He'd wake her up, offer he food in exchange for a sound. When she held her peace, he'd spank her or fuck her or both.
Eventually he broke down and started feeding her. The cuffs and shackles came off and Willow was allowed to move around with some freedom. She never spoke. He continued to wake her whenever he chose for sex. She was still exhausted most of the time, but there was some structure in his behavior, regardless how erratic it seemed. If she came without permission, she was spanked. If she sucked him off when he asked, she was fed. She learned that it hurt less if she played with herself and he seemed to like to watch, so when he was done, she always played. If she woke up on her own, she played.
It was still a precarious existence. Sometimes he would get mad at her for not speaking and paddle or beat her. The times Willow tried to remove the plug on her own he beat her severely. She kept praying he would beat her to death for it, but he always stopped short of any real damage. It was purely for the pain, so she gave up and left it alone. It was strange—she actually grew used to wearing the awful thing. It felt like something was missing when it was out.
Finally it happened; he came in the room in a foul mood and woke her. He raped her and beat her. She was certain he'd go too far. Her body smashed through the furniture as he tossed her around the room. She went limp and didn't fight. This was it. Release was near.
***********
Willow stirred from the trance and leapt out of bed. Her hands closed over her mouth as she ran to her desk. She grabbed the small plastic waste paper basket and retched into it, falling to her knees. Oh Goddess! Tears filled her eyes and she sobbed as she choked.
"Are you okay?" Buffy asked, her voice thick with hurt and concern. She rose from the bed and caressed her owner's back.
Once she was able to speak again, Willow said, "I'll be fine, Buffy." I'm not even sure—I don't know where to start with the bad. He abducted her the night of the split and tortured her for days. How many exactly is pretty much impossible to tell. Living that, even as a nightmare— She climbed to her feet and looked over her body wondering if the bruises would be there. After a moment of inspecting herself in disbelief at the lack of marring, she put on her robe, taking the small can to clean it out. "Buffy, stay here, I'll be right back," she instructed in a thick, aggrieved tone.
I made her sick. Buffy considered this for a moment and started to cry. She went over to the bed and kneeled on the floor, laying her chest against the mattress. I was bad. I should've stopped her. I didn't know what she wanted to see.
When Willow returned to the room she glanced at her partner and returned the small trashcan to the corner. "Buffy, why are you laying like that?" she asked in a patient voice.
"I was bad," Buffy replied simply, arching her back as she awaited punishment.
Willow took a seat at her desk and stared at her partner's bare bottom. "What makes you think that?"
Her face flushed with embarrassment and Buffy admitted, "The dreams made you sick. I was very bad. I should've stopped you."
"The dreams were the bad, Buffy, not you. Now lay down on the bed," Willow stated plainly.
Buffy refused to move. "Please, I hurt you."
"Buffy, I can't. You don't deserve to be punished anymore," Willow choked as she began to weep again.
Buffy wanted to die. She was still hurting her owner. As she listened to the quiet sobs, she begged, "Please."
After several minutes of listening to the pleas, Willow got up and wiped her eyes. This is stupid. I really don't have a problem with the act, it's the reason. If a healthy Buffy were to ask for this, I'd be way more than happy. It's the broken that bothers. But I'm hurting by— She went to the closet and got out the jar of salve then made her way over to her lover and instructed, "To twenty and no, you may not cum. Count for me," and she smacked her two times on the right cheek hard enough to leave a handprint.
Buffy gasped out, "One, two," in complete shock, her owner swung again twice on the left cheek and she groaned, "Three, four."
Changing angle, Willow smacked both cheeks hard enough that the sound echoed through the room and her lover yelped, 'five.' She rubbed her hand over the warm, rosy flesh to soothe it, then, without warning, smacked lower on the right cheek twice in close succession.
"Six, seven," Buffy moaned through clenched teeth, tensing as her owner smacked the left cheek hard enough to move her on the bed. "Eight, nine. Thank you," she groaned. The tenth smack came hard and fast and caught the edge of her sex. She winced and a loud growl slipped out. "Ten," she said in a breathy voice through the panting.
Willow stopped to caress the warm, flushed flesh of her lover's ass. After a few moments to allow her to recover, she smacked the right cheek twice again on the side where the skin was still relatively normal in hue. A loud groan escaped her lover's lips, as she watched she could see the muscles twitch. "Now, Buffy, I said no orgasm," she admonished.
"I'm sorry. Eleven, twelve," Buffy gasped as the hand snapped down again. "Thirteen, Fourteen," she added quickly. The next blow was softer than the previous and just clipped her sex. "Fifteen," she moaned, trying to control the flood of sensation as her owner rubbed her red bottom.
Willow's hand fell twice in close succession on the original target and her lover panted the numbers 'sixteen' and 'seventeen.' She shifted angle and smacked the crimson cheeks low and across the center.
Buffy yelped as the hand came in hard contact with her center. "Thank you, eighteen," she gulped thickly through labored breath. It was hard for her to tell where the next two landed, but she felt the soft quiver in her sex and had to bite back the need to cum. "Nineteen, twenty," she panted as her body started to clench and tremble. Her owner caressed her scarlet bottom and she moaned with pleasure. The next two blows took her completely off-guard and she looked around before she counted, "Twenty-one, twenty-two."
"You were a bad girl, Buffy. I told you not to cum," Willow said patiently and smacked down hard on the left cheek once then moved to the right with the same force.
Buffy squeaked as the hand hit her harder than before. The numbness subsided and her bottom burned. "Twenty-three, twenty-four," she panted through heavy breath. The last blow was so soft she barely felt it anywhere except her center. A soft groan escaped and she finished, "Twenty-five. Thank you."
After a gentle caress of her partner's warm bottom, Willow instructed, "Now, Buffy, get up on the bed and lay down."
Buffy stood up and moved gingerly onto the bed. Her bottom hurt when she sat down. She winced and lay on her back, spreading her legs in hopes her owner would join her. "Please," she begged pitifully.
Willow sighed regretfully and directed, "You may touch yourself anytime you are in our bed, nowhere else. You must use the salve in that jar as a lubricant. You may cum as much as you want in our bed, but nowhere else." I'm gonna have to make more soon. She'll go through it like water. It'll keep her from hurting though and that's a good. A subtle smile warmed her features when her mate immediately scooped a dab of the ointment out and started to masturbate. The room was soon filled with the soft sounds of Buffy's moaning. "You may not leave this room without putting a robe on. You may leave the room anytime you want, but never leave the house without me. You will let me know if you need something. Do you understand?"
Buffy groaned a quiet, "yes," then arched in a violent orgasm. Her body quivered as she continued to massage her sex well after the sensation ended.
"I need to make a phone call. Now be a good girl," Willow instructed with a faint smile as she rose from the chair. At least I get the need. Being completely still must've been like torture for her. She made her way downstairs. The feeling of freedom was amazing after she killed Spike. It was horrible except for that rush of freedom—sitting in that train car, knowing it was over. I've never even been around a boxcar, but I know exactly how it feels to ride in one now. Damned uncomfortable, really.
The crazy thing is, she was actually starting to love him before he turned her. Stupid vampire. He should've known that doing that to a slayer would be a death sentence. Take the soul and the monster follows. He was an idiot. Darwin Award material. Add Stockholm Syndrome to the laundry list of mental illnesses she's suffering from. Will she ever come back?
Willow collapsed on the couch, curled up in a ball and began to weep. Once she cried herself out, she got up and went to the phone, hitting the speed dial for The Magic Box. "Hey, Giles," she said in a ragged voice over his canned greeting.
Giles drew silent when he heard the witch's voice. After taking a deep, cleansing breath, he remarked, "Willow, you sound terrible. Is there anything—" cutting off again because he realized how silly it was to ask.
"You can give me some good news. Something like all I have to do is wiggle my nose and everything's sunshine and puppy dogs," Willow replied in a sarcastic tone. Buffy would like the Bewitched reference. She loves that horrible old show.
Giles covered his mouth with his fist and cleared his throat, trying to be polite by holding the receiver slightly away, but the sound trickled through anyway. "Actually, Dawn would like to speak with you. She's had an idea that may be just what we're looking for, but I believe you should hear it from her. Allow me to put her on."
There was a small amount of clatter and Dawn's excited voice sounded through the receiver, "Hi, Will."
"Whatcha got?" Willow asked, starting to pace back and forth in the dining room.
"Umm... I dunno—well, you're gonna hate it, but it's the perfect fix," Dawn offered anxiously.
"Spill," Willow replied with a tone of grave finality to her voice.
Dawn made a couple of nervous sounds, then stuttered, "Ta-tabula Rasa."
Willow dropped the phone and walked away. She can't seriously think I'd ever...after everything— I almost destroyed my entire life with that spell. She listened to Dawn calling to her through the receiver for a moment, then finally leaned down and swept the phone off the floor. "Find something else," she said in a flat emotionless tone and hung the phone up while Dawn protested on the other end. The phone started to ring as she bounced up the stairs, but she ignored it.
When she opened the door to their room, Buffy was coated in a thin sheen of perspiration and panting deeply. Willow stood in the doorway and watched her.
"Do you like to watch me too?" Buffy asked breathlessly as she traced circles in her sex.
"Yes, Buffy, I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Willow replied honestly.
A subtle smile played at the corners of her mouth for an instant then her expression twisted with pleasure and Buffy cried out.
Willow smiled warmly as spasms racked her lover's form. Quite a show. When Buffy's body eventually quieted, she gently directed, "Stop for a moment, please." After walking around the bed, she took a seat at her desk. "Please look at me." She could see this caused her partner a great deal of stress, but she was grateful when Buffy finally managed to timidly look into her eyes. "What would you think if someone asked you to do something very bad, but the idea was to make something very good happen?"
Her face strained with thought for a short time before she asked, "Something very good would happen?"
Willow nodded. "It's possible. Nothing's ever one-hundred percent, but chances are good, yes."
"I'd probably take the beating. Sorta depends on how bad and how good. If 'the bad' was 'hurt you' I'd never. I belong to you," Buffy replied honestly.
That sounds very Buffy. Willow's brow furrowed pensively for a moment. Wait, she thinks she belongs to me. It fits, but...umm...wow. Finally, she prompted to gauge the reply, "I don't own you, Buffy."
Buffy turned her gaze to her owner's feet, then stated frankly. "Y-yes, you do. The slayer belonged to you. I belong to you."
Willow sat silent for a short time considering this before she spoke, "The slayer and I are lovers, Buffy. Equal partners. I wasn't her Mistress. We belong to each other."
Her brow furrowed with concentration as Buffy considered the word for a moment. Mistress means 'controller' or 'owner.' She is...she just said the slayer belonged to her. Eventually she relaxed, a subtle smile played at the corners of her mouth, then she whispered, "But you are my Mistress."
Oh boy... Willow sat silently gazing at the beautiful naked blonde in her bed. Mistress. Well, that completes the bondage special. Thanks, Spike. I'd kill you myself if there were any scraps left. Sadly, no. A soft sigh slipped out and she directed. "I'm not the same as Spike. I'll never snap my fingers to ask you for sex. Understand?"
Buffy nodded. "Yes, Mistress."
"So, if I snap my fingers?" Willow prompted then snapped her finger to see if there'd be a reaction.
Buffy flinched and started to rise then stayed where she was. "I do nothing," she responded in a simple almost childish tone.
"Good girl. Now please come here," Willow directed in a soothing voice. When Buffy kneeled at her feet and fixed her gaze on the floor, Willow pulled her robe back, slumped in the chair and parted her thighs.
Peering longingly at the moist pink folds, Buffy asked sheepishly, "May I? Please, Mistress?"
Willow tipped her chin in a subtle nod. She needs to know I still desire her. And stress. What's that? I'm just fine. What nervous tick? A deep contented moan broke the silence of the room as her lover's eager mouth cupped over her sex. The words, "Oh Goddess," came out as a breathy whisper.
***********
Her gaze shifted nervously around The Magic Box retail area, landing on Dawn. Tara was suddenly very self-conscious about being around Giles, Anya, and Xander. She didn't quite understand why, so she tried to dismiss the feelings as she said, "Y-you needed to s-see me."
Dawn rose from her seat. "Yeah...I actually need your help if—" she replied, stopping short. Then she glanced around the table at the others and added, "I'll be back. I want to talk to Tara alone."
Giles stood from his chair to greet Tara, offering, "Good of you to come on such short notice." He nodded genially in Tara's direction, then turned his attention to Dawn. "Certainly, why don't you ladies fetch a coffee or something?" Chances are she'll be more complacent if the appeal comes from Dawn. There are certain elements of the story she will no doubt find quite disturbing on a personal level. He noted that there was a magazine inside the book Anya was to read and Xander was doing much more nervous fidgeting than actual research.
Dawn rocked back and forth on her heels anxiously for a moment, then herded Tara out the front door. "I'm not so much sure about the 'coffee' thing. I'd rather just find a place we can talk alone."
"What's wrong, sweetie?" Tara asked sympathetically as she walked at a rapid pace along the storefronts with the younger woman.
A bitter laugh choked out before Dawn commented cynically, " 'What's right' would be easier—much shorter list." She turned a corner that led to a dead-end alley and located an old crate to sit on.
Tara blanched slightly at the harsh display. Goddess, it must be pretty horrible. She leaned against the alley wall and gazed down at the youngest Summers.
Dawn turned toward the witch and slouched forward to peer at the ground. "There's part of this that—it's not my—I shouldn't be the one to tell you. It's gonna upset you. Can we skip that at least for a bit?"
"Sure, sweetie," Tara replied in a soothing tone, trying to set Dawn more at ease. The teenage nervous energy was right on the edge of making her stutter and withdraw. "Maybe you sh-should calm down some?"
"My sister's sick. Like really sick," Dawn started bluntly. Perceiving a sympathetic nod from the witch, she continued, "It's this whole thing." She returned her attention to the pavement and kicked a rusty, flattened can around with her shoe as she spoke, "The ferula-gemina—that stick, the Toth weapon—was used to split her and well, the weaker half sorta ended up with Spike. Willow said a bunch of stuff about breaking her mind and conditioning her as a sex slave. I'm not even sure what that means...and I think I'm kinda glad. Then, she said something about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I know what that is. At least I looked it up, so the other stuff sorta makes sense, but—" When she finally managed to look up, the expression on Tara's face didn't surprise her at all.
Tara had to work to pick her jaw up off the ground. Her features strained with forced concentration. "Wh-what? I-I m-mean..." she stuttered hopelessly. A deep frustrated breath passed in then out and she exclaimed, "How can I help?"
Dawn's brows knit with worry. "I thought Tabula Rasa seemed like a decent fix. The trouble is with memories and, well—but Willow won't do the spell."
"So, you thought because I—? That she—?" Tara asked by way of a question.
"You and me...we're the ones that were hurt the worst. Besides Willow. I figure if she won't listen to me, maybe she'll listen to us," Dawn offered frankly as she kicked the can violently across the alley. She added a meek, "Sorry," when Tara winced.
"What was the first part?" Tara queried apprehensively, already having formulated the answer for herself. Willow's taking care of her. Her gaze landed anxiously on the ground in front of her.
Dawn offered Tara a compassionate glance, then stared at the ground again. "Willow and my sister—I guess, I mean—they never really said much, but they didn't need to. We all sorta got it. They're seeing each other."
After several moments of mutual silence, Tara finally managed, "H-how long?"
"I'm sorry," Dawn offered with concern. A deeply troubled sigh exhaled through her lips and she tried to answer the question, "Not long. I wasn't there, but my guess is it had something to do with the ferula-gemina. It's supposed to make one half lots stronger, right? I mean, Xander got a good job and a nice apartment. My sister—"
***********
Dawn led Tara into the house, motioned for her to wait, then climbed the stairs and knocked on Willow's door. When there was no answer, she called through the door, "I need to see you, Will," before returning to the foyer to wait.
Willow exited her room, wearing a robe, moments later. When she saw Tara, her first impulse was to return to the room and hide. Oh Goddess. She slipped into the bathroom to wash up and brush her teeth. Once finished, she made her way reluctantly downstairs. A plastic bag was thrust into her hands by the other witch.
The walk over had given Tara time to consider everything and talk over more of the details with Dawn. Her expression was etched with frustration as she looked at the redhead and shot out with uncharacteristic audacity, "Stop being a coward, Willow."
Willow coughed, uncertain she'd heard what Tara said correctly. "Huh?" After examining the Lethe's Bramble and the piece of quartz, her mouth dropped open. I can't believe she had the nerve! She doesn't know what it's been like. "You don't know what I am," she spat back defensively at Tara.
Tara gave the redhead a harsh, disapproving glare, then commented assertively, "I know that your lo-lover's sitting up there in that room, a shadow of her former self and you're t-too scared to help her." Pausing a second to concentrate, she concluded, "Where I'm from they call that being a c-coward." Her attention shifted to Dawn who was trying to quiet them both with hand gestures and a gentle hissing noise. She tried to push the embarrassment down when she realized they were being pretty loud.
Willow was stunned. Her features blushed with a mix of shame and rage. Finally she managed to bark, "This is none of your business, Tara."
Tara's face filled with shock as Buffy swept down the hallway and most of the staircase in less time than it took for her to take one step back.
Her brow furrowed with confusion as both Dawn and Tara gaped at the stairs. Before she manage to turn back to look someone pushed carefully past her and Willow heard a thud. She swung around to look and Buffy had a forearm across Tara's throat pinning her to the door. Her mouth fell open.
Tara was too concerned with not being able to breathe to be bothered by the fact that Buffy hadn't tied her robe closed. She gasped for air and stared into the cold, malevolent eyes of the slayer.
"Buffy!" Willow snapped as she took hold of her partner and tried to pry her off the other witch. It was useless.
"But, Mistress, she was hurting you," Buffy offered in a simple voice.
"Buffy, no!" Willow snapped again and brought her hand reflexively down on the slayer's ass with all her strength. "Bad! Go back to our room," she scolded and spanked the blonde again.
Buffy hung her head and released Tara, then walked back up the stairs.
A deep crimson flush settled over Willow's features when she realized what had happened. She stared at the floor unable to meet Tara's gaze.
Tara rubbed her throat until the panic died down, then remarked forthrightly, "Willow, magick is a gift. You know the rules. Tabula Rasa was written to help when the memories are just too awful, like these," she sighed, "You know the longer you wait, the worse it'll be. If you wait too long, you may never get all of her back. If you won't do it, I will, for her sake."
Willow suddenly felt like a small child being chided by a teacher. She hung her head and walked slowly up the stairs with the plastic bag in hand. Halfway up, she glanced back at the landing and said, "Thank you. I'll do it." The front door closed before she was back in her room and she was grateful. Her eyes were full of unshed tears when they fixed on the naked blonde in her bed, laying face down with her bottom up in the air. She walked over to her desk and set the bag down. When she blinked, the tears started. Her head dropped into her hands and she began to sob. Reaching behind herself, she crossly pulled two Kleenexes out of the box on her desk and wiped her eyes and nose. Damn it! What am I more worried about? Is being ashamed really—do I really have a reason? Her brow furrowed under severe emotional strain. Rising from the chair, she moved to the bed and lay down.
Buffy was entirely befuddled when her Mistress pulled her into a tight embrace. She tensed not knowing what to expect. But I deserve to be punished.
"You're supposed to mind me, right?" Willow asked in a raspy voice.
"Yes, Mistress," Buffy stated simply.
Willow took the wadded Kleenex and dabbed at her eyes before she commanded, "Then relax and hold me." I shouldn't be ashamed. The only shame's in not doing what's right. I've just been reacting. I need to do— need be calm.
Confusion washed over her, but Buffy took her mistress in her arms and held her. She struggled to relax, listening to the deep metered breaths of her owner. Finally she asked in a bewildered voice, "Why don't you want to punish me? I was bad. You even said so."
"I didn't want you to hurt Tara, but protecting me isn't bad, Buffy. You just didn't know," Willow replied frankly, then sighed. A subtle grin flashed across her tearstained face seconds before she added, "Oh, and when I said 'wear your robe,' that meant the 'tying it closed' too." Any luck, she'll be the one with the embarrassment issues soon. I hope they're right. It just scares me...but I'm afraid 'cause I don't want to hurt and that's a good thing.
Buffy nuzzled into the soft shoulder of her mistress's robe, wishing the garment wasn't there. The confusion ebbed slightly while she listened to her owner's breathing and heartbeat both slow to much more peaceful levels. Finally, she managed in a soft sleepy voice, "I'm sorry, Mistress, she was hurting you. I just wanted her to stop."
"I love you, Buffy," Willow said soothingly. All of her focus went into putting her partner into a deep restful sleep. When Buffy was finally slumbering soundly enough for her to move, she carefully rose and drew the covers over her. After retrieving a large brass incense burner from the dresser, she went to sit at her desk, casting the wadded tissues into the trash.
Willow reached for the plastic bag Tara had given her, pulling out the spell ingredients. She sat for a long time simply staring at the Lethe's Bramble, thinking about what she'd seen in the shared dreams that morning. 'Kay, so...now the hard question: how much? I could take the whole thing—all of it up to now—and explain the missing pieces, or I could leave some... Would she be better off knowing why—with the weirdness? I guess the real question is: what part's actually hurting? The parts that don't hurt should stay, then the telling. Suppose I could always take more later. If there's a problem. Just the real badness.
Willow meditated on the abduction and torture, then said in a low, deliberate tone, "For Buffy, this I char." She struck a match and set the Lethe's Bramble on fire, watching it burn. After dropping the flaming herb into the brass bowl when the fire moved up the stem, she continued, "Let Lethe's Bramble do its chore. Purge her mind of memories grim, of pains from recent slights and sins." She picked up the clear piece of quartz and peered through it, pouring her intent into the little rock. Once her focus was set, she dipped the crystal into the flame and intoned, "When the fire goes out, when the crystal turns black, the spell will be cast." Her attention remained fixed on the tiny shard of quartz. She watched it cloud and turn black. Then she pulled the crystal from the smoke wafting off the smoldering herb and concluded, "Tabula rasa, tabula rasa, tabula rasa." Goddess, give her peace.
After several minutes of simply staring at the tiny shard of darkened crystal, Willow carefully set it aside in a china dish with some dried herbs and rose petals. Then she rose from her chair and made her way quietly out of the room. This is the last thing I feel like doing, but...it's also the responsible thing—the right thing. She moved swiftly through the house and picked up the phone, hitting the speed dial for The Magic Box. When Anya answered the phone, she cut her off mid-greeting by saying, "Anya, could you please get Giles?"
"Oh, Willow, yeah sure," Anya replied, biting back the half-dozen or so questions she had about owning a sexual servant. I don't understand what the big deal is. Buffy can be both, right? Willow would have to command her to kill, but it might be advantageous to have a slayer who isn't worried with all those troublesome thoughts. The Council certainly would like it better. Hey, maybe Willow could transfer ownership to Giles and go back to Tara. Then everyone would be happy. I'll have to suggest it when he gets off the phone. All these people sulking around—it's a bit annoying. They should be happy for Xander and me.
Willow sat down at the dining room table. The tiny microchip caught her attention and she stared at it absently until Giles' voice sounded over the receiver. She took a deep breath and stated in a matter-of-fact tone, "It's done, Giles."
"You've completed the spell? Oh that is good news. How is she?" Giles rattled off cheerfully.
Willow pushed the tiny piece of plastic around with her nail as she offered dully, "She's still sleeping. I thought it'd be easier on her if—anyway, I put her to sleep."
"Yes, quite right. That was a good idea," Giles confirmed plainly.
Her attention waned from the microchip and Willow cupped her forehead in her hand. The headache was returning and she got up to get a glass of water and some aspirin. "I didn't take it all, Giles. I only removed the parts that hurt. It may take some time, but I didn't want—I can always do more. Anyway, let the others know," she remarked as she took a juice glass down out of the cupboard and filled it with tap water.
Giles was momentarily filled with pride at the prudence of the young witch. "Very good, Willow. That was a wise decision. It would be far better to avoid anymore shock than necessary. She has already been through a great deal," he sighed, "Speaking of, how are you holding up? You don't sound well."
"I'll be okay, Giles," Willow replied nonchalantly, trying to brush off the concern as she lowered the phone to take the two aspirin and a small sip of water. "Giles, there was a young woman named Mary Hoffmann. Would you ask Dawn if she knows her? I'm sorta worried that she might—I dunno—she had a pretty unhealthy fascination with..." she added in a ragged voice, trailing off to take another sip of water. When Giles affirmed, she brought the conversation to an end by saying, "I really should get back. I don't want her to wake up alone. She may be pretty confused." Once Giles had said his farewells, she hung up the phone and finished drinking the water. She set the glass in the sink and returned to phone to its cradle then made her way back to her room.
Buffy was still sleeping soundly, so Willow removed her robe and carefully crawled into bed. When she was settled, her partner snuggled against her. She closed her eyes, hoping a nap would ease the headache.
***********
Buffy woke to low light cascading in from the neighbor's porch and the street lights. There was a dull ache behind her eyes. She felt dizzy and confused as she leaned up, glancing around the room.
As her partner moved, Willow's eyes fluttered open. "Are you okay, Buffy?" she asked in a soft sleepy voice.
"Yes, Mistress," Buffy answered without thinking. The press of sleep and dream still lay over her heavily. She knew something was wrong, but she couldn't understand what. The dreams were different this time. Her brow wrinkled under the strain of concentration as she tried to recall. I was chained in this room and Mistress was whipping me. I was frightened, but not of Mistress. It was something else. Too much pain. She turned to look at her owner and took in the crestfallen expression on her face. "Did I do something wrong, Mistress?" she asked in a small voice.
Willow watched her partner sit up then asked, "No, Buffy. What do you remember?"
Buffy looked up at the false tile in the ceiling then back at her Mistress, tentatively trying to meet her gaze. "I was chained there and—" She tried to relax, hoping the memories would be clearer. It worried her that her owner flinched. "What's wrong, Mistress?"
"Nothing, Buffy, please continue," Willow prompted. She told me she didn't remember. Did she lie to me, or is this new?
Her face darkened as the memories of the dream came back. She didn't understand why, but it didn't hurt anymore to meet her owner's eyes. Shock shown on her features and she reflected, "I threatened to kill you." Sickness welled up inside her. A thick haze of confusion and fear fell over her. "Mistress, the chains, please."
Willow was surprised her partner effortlessly met her gaze, but she suppressed emotion. Her voice was full of compassion when she offered, "It wasn't you. Don't worry, Buffy."
Buffy looked anxiously around the room, suddenly wanting desperately to leave. Her eyes welled up and she wept. "It was me, Mistress. Please lock me up so I can't hurt you," she began to beg as her body fell limp.
"Remember, Buffy, I don't need chain to stop you? Now settle down," Willow offered in a matter-of-fact tone. A subtle smile warmed her features as she took in the relieved expression on the slayer's face. This is still not—I wonder what's wrong. Did the spell flop? No, I felt it work. Maybe it'll just take time. After several moments of shared silence during which her partner seemed to grow more serene, she asked, "May I touch you, Buffy?"
An incredulous look infected her features then Buffy replied plainly, "You own me."
"Silens foris," Willow intoned in a voice barely audible then sat up and tucked a pillow behind her partner's head so she'd be comfortable. Settling into the curve of her shoulder, she gently started to caress the moist supple folds of her sex. "I love you, Buffy."
"I love you too, Mistress," Buffy replied as she melted under the comforting touch. A soft gasp slipped out when fingers pressed inside, filling her and making her feel warm and cherished. Her Mistress rolled gently atop her and began to tenderly make love. Her paralyzed body seemed to tingle with the soothing rhythm. She eagerly met her lover's lips, drifting off into the warm adoring kiss. As the kiss intensified, so did the cadence. Soon Buffy found herself moaning and pleading through the kiss.
Her body tensed when she felt the energy between them escalate. Willow withdrew from the kiss. Something's wrong. Reducing the tempo, she focused her will, examining all of her lover's chakras. Manipura was misaligned and malfunctioning at the solar plexus. Weird, it must've transferred with the merge. Spike seemed to enjoy hitting pressure points and nerve clusters to inflict. And Buffy does have a really light scar on her cheek now.
Willow worked for several moments to ease the tension and adjust the injury. That had to hurt, but she didn't complain. Wish she would've. Then she purred, "Cum for me, Buffy." A gentle nudge and the body underneath hers came alive in a torrent of vivid light. She listened to the cries of intense pleasure while she carefully cycled the energy to its source, guiding it to flow to trickle through the injury at first. As her mate was caught by the second crashing wave of cleansing energy, she whispered, "Solvo," to free her. Fine now—she'll be a bit tender. Not that she'd say anything.
Sudden distress caused Buffy to struggle for breath when her body arched and all her muscles tensed in unison. The third wave washed over her without warning and she fought to maintain control by reflexively seizing her lover's back. She held on as heady sensations caused her to thrash and quake. Her back arched as the muscles abruptly tightened, then relaxed. When it finally fell silent, she lay exhausted and gasping for breath when her lover's body erupted with passion. Buffy clung to her while she racked and thrust her fingers deeper still. Her trembling legs wrapped tightly around Willow's waist, pressing their two forms together as her witch fell limp and panting.
Buffy felt the energy building again. OH GOD! Her body tensed and arched as she was caught in another violent surge of pleasure, she began to plead though thick, heavy breaths. Every muscle quivered under the overwhelming strain. She clamped her eyes shut and her vision blurred and flashed behind the lids. As her body quieted, she sought out her lover's lips, seizing her in a brief, hungry kiss. She held tight as her lover's body tensed and shuddered on top of hers. A subtle smile warmed her features when Willow cried her name, then fell limp draped over her.
Willow lay utterly exhausted for several minutes. When she was finally able to move, she rose, staggering to her feet. A quick glance at the clock showed it was just after eleven. There's still time. I was hoping...well, I'm not sure what I wanted. A miracle maybe. She opened her bottom desk drawer and moved the file folders forward to reveal a small gift bag. After taking it out, she shut the drawer and returned to the bed, wrapping Buffy into a tight embrace. She pulled the blankets over them and placed the bag in her partner's hand, whispering, "Happy birthday, Buffy."
Buffy moved the gift bag aside and shut her eyes as Willow drew her into a brief tender kiss.
As her partner removed the small plush teddy bear from the gift bag, Willow reflected, "I had this whole thing planned. Instead of the usual 'Buffy birthday horror,' we were gonna go out and have a quiet dinner together. I should've known better than to plan. We'll just have to do it later. There's lots of time."
Buffy looked in the bottom of the gift bag after playing with the teddy bear for a moment then propping him against the pillow next to her and pulled out a small black velvet box. She opened the hinged box and her eyes lit up.
"I had a hard time deciding. It seemed—" Willow offered anxiously, suddenly falling silent when her partner put a finger over her lips and drew her into a lingering tender kiss. When the kiss, in time drew to an end, she took the garnet white gold filigree ring out of the box and slid it over Buffy's left ring finger. She set the box aside on the nightstand before she clasped her partner's hand and looked into her eyes in the dimly lit bedroom. "Buffy, I know we haven't been together that long, but then we've been together through—it's a little bit hard to even think what we've been through. I knew I loved you the moment I first saw you. I was just too stupid to see—"
A tear slid down her cheek as Willow continued, "When I lost you the first time it killed a little piece of me. I was willing to do anything. When I thought I lost you the second time I wanted to lay down and die," she brushed the tears away, "I needed you. It was selfish and stupid, but I didn't want to live in a world without you. I still don't." She raised her hand to soothingly cup her lover's cheek, then reflected, "Even if I never have more of you than I have now. It's enough. I'll never leave you. I don't want anyone else. I never really did. It just seemed so impossible that someone like you could love someone like me."
Willow studied her silent partner's face in the low light. It was hard to tell what she was thinking from the expression of deep concentration. After a short pause, she offered, "I took something from you today, hoping it would help. I'm not sure if—but you need to know. I made you forget some stuff that was really hurting you. I did something I swore I'd never do again. I stole the memories of someone I love without telling them. I hope you'll forgive me."
"I was raped by Spike, but he's dead now and I'm safe here with you. He can't hurt me anymore," Buffy remarked in a soft pensive voice. She went back to quietly trying to sort all of the pieces of jumbled disjointed memory, figuring out where they all fit. Several minutes passed before she whispered, "I forgive you, Will." A soft blush warmed her face. Wow! And I thought Will was a slutty vampire.
Willow wasn't sure she'd ever been happier to hear her own name, or at least the better part of it. Tears welled up in her eyes as a bright smile lit her features. She watched for a few more moments while her partner puzzled. It felt wrong to interrupt, but she needed to hear one more time just to be sure. Finally, she whispered, "I love you, Buffy."
Buffy turned onto her side to face Willow. As she gazed into the redhead's green eyes, she reflected, "Lost as I was, I got one thing right: I do belong to you, Mistress." She paused to take in the crestfallen expression on her lover's face. Her eyes fluttered closed and she gently rested her forehead against the witch's. A mischievous smile flashed across her face, then she whispered, "I love you too, Will." Her mate swatted her bottom and she playfully wiggled, seductively cooing, "One."
Willow drew back and commanded in a hushed yet stern voice, "Count for me to twenty-one. No cumming." An impish grin infected her features when Buffy's eye's snapped open and her jaw dropped.
Buffy scanned the expression on her witch's face then rolled onto her belly, replying timidly. "Yes, Mistress." Uh-boy...
Willow sat up and pulled back the blankets. "It's very naughty to tease a witch, Buffy," she purred wickedly as she caressed the slayer's bare bottom.