The Lateralus Duet - 1 - Schism
by Valyssia
The Eyes of Others
[reviews]
Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion between supposed lovers. ∞ I know the pieces fit 'cause I watched them fall away.
It's been said that there's no truer reflection of self than what you see in the eyes of others. Is she hiding from that, or is this simply a leftover from the badness? Willow watched her partner slowly begin to eat her breakfast, then she turned her attention back to the plate in front of her. "Are you feeling okay, Buffy?"
Buffy carefully segmented the waffle into bite-sized portions, then, without making eye contact, she mumbled, "Yeah...I'll be fine, Will."
No, I'm being stupid, and impatient, and needy. I can't expect miracles, Willow chided herself. Just getting her out of the house is a huge step. I just want my Buffy back. I miss her. Reaching across the table, she took the slayer's left hand and gave it a light squeeze, then went back to eating. Did I make it worse? They finished their meal in silence. As they rose to leave, she saw her partner cautiously avert her gaze to the floor in front of her. I made it worse. I just know I did. "Buffy, sweetie, you gonna be okay walking home? I sorta need to get to class."
"Yeah...I'll be fine," Buffy replied in a soft sullen voice. When her witch drew her into a hug, she yielded and returned the hasty kiss, then turned to make her way home. She watched the cracks in the sidewalk pass under her feet as she traveled. Fine—right as rain. What does that mean anyway? Is rain really right? I suppose rain is more right than no rain. There have to be dark stormy days to make you appreciate the bright sunny ones. I mean, if it was bright and sunny all the time, this'd be a desert, right?
When Buffy arrived at home there was a light flashing on the answering machine. She pressed the button to listen to the message. 'Miss Summers, this is Sergeant Wallace at Allied Security. I would like to offer you the opportunity for a second interview.' She listened, taking down the number and returned the call.
A soft sigh slipped out as Buffy hung up the phone and made her way upstairs to dress for the interview. He has time to see me this morning. Great! Just what I needed: a job interview. Well, I need the money too, so... I can't expect Will to pay my way. Not really even sure she can. Since Tara moved out, money's been even tighter. It always felt weird taking money from them anyway. Oh God! Tara. I need to—I'm not even sure what to say. I need to say something, though.
***********
Sergeant Wallace scanned the impassive expression on the younger woman's face. There was something vastly different about the person that sat before him today. Her eyes were a cold, steely gray and seemed to scan the room, taking in details, rather than making casual contact the way they had in their previous meeting. There had been an almost flirty quality about their last encounter. None of that youthful charm could be felt in the creature that sat before him. "Miss Summers, I took the liberty of looking into your past a little and I found some very interesting things."
Buffy glanced up and gave the man a cold, hard stare, defying him to raise question. Great! Well, considering... No clue why he'd call me in again.
"Now, Miss Summers, it's okay. In addition to the background check, I also spoke with your references at length, Mr. Giles and Mr. Angel," Sergeant Wallace offered plainly, pausing to study the younger woman's face again. Something had changed. There was a hint of sorrow behind the otherwise cold eyes. "I'm a pretty perceptive man, Miss Summers. In all the years I've been doing this I've never heard anything close to the—I want to say 'reverence' these two men have for you. I know there's more to this story."
Pfft! Better. He's curious. Buffy suppressed a sigh and fixed her gaze on the wall behind the Sergeant.
Sergeant Wallace smiled kindly in an attempt to set the young woman at ease. "I don't need to know. What I do need to know is this: I need for you to actually answer my first question. Honestly, this time. Why do you want to work in security?"
Buffy leveled her gaze on the security officer, noting that he seemed to want to look away, but bravely held his ground. He wants the truth? Her tone was metered and completely devoid of emotion as she answered, "The real truth—the honest truth: this is what I do, but I've never been paid a dime for it. I patrolled these grounds as much as your officers when I went to school here. I still make the rounds every night. Sounds crazy, I know. Whatever, I've got nothing to lose here. You either want me to work for you or not. Sounds like you've pretty much made up your mind."
"I have," Sergeant Wallace replied with a nod. Observing the young woman's posture stiffening even more, he went on without commenting on the remainder of her answer, "This is a bit unusual, I'll admit, but I'd like to bring you on in a temporary capacity to see if you're a good fit. My instincts tell me you will be. If things go well, you'll become a permanent employee after a period of one month." He smiled at the look of surprise on the young woman's face. "I'd like for you to start a week from today. You'll train on days for the first week, then move to second shift the following week. Please, stop by the front desk and speak with Officer Burns about requisitioning uniforms on your way out." He stood and held out his hand.
Still trying to shake off the shock, Buffy stood and took the Sergeant's hand, briefly shaking it. Her tone was soft and pensive as she offered, "Thank you." A subtle smile warmed her features.
"Eight a.m. Monday, Miss Summers," the Sergeant said as he watched the young woman leave.
"Yes, sir," Buffy replied, turning to nod in his direction at the doorway.
***********
Willow stood patiently waiting for Tara to leave class. The cold, dismissive glares the other witch had given her in the one class they'd shared had been difficult to take, but she'd understood them. As Tara tried to shove past her, she begged, "Tara, wait, please."
"I-I've got nu-nothing to say to y-you, W-willow," Tara stuttered while she struggled to push the other witch away.
"Well I've got something to say to you. In fact, two—I've got two somethings," Willow said heatedly as she held the blonde witch back by both shoulders, forcing her to make eye contact. Her expression softened and she continued, "Thank you for helping Dawn. I know how hard that was. It wasn't really needed. I'd already decided to do the spell. I sorta asked Buffy what she thought I should do. She wasn't herself, but I made it really simple for her," she sighed, "Second thing: I'm really, really sorry, Tara. I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm sorry I didn't tell you myself. It was wrong."
Willow released the blonde witch who gave her a sorrowful glance and silently walked away. It took her a moment to recover, but she finally moved out of the doorway. Her shoulders slumped and she stared at the ground as she walked. At least she let me say it. That's a good sign, right? Still standing—sorta, at least—and no bruises—both good signs. She sighed and took a seat near the back of the class. For the first time in memory, she had no desire to be noticed in class. A guilty tear eventually slipped out and she cursed softly to herself when it dripped onto the paper in her lap, smearing her notes. She sat through the remainder of class silently weeping, grateful the instructor seemed to not notice.
***********
Buffy knocked on Giles' door, hoping her watcher was home. She heard movement inside the apartment and reflexively lowered her gaze when he answered the door.
A look of concern played on his features as Giles regarded at his charge. "Ahh...Buffy, please do come in. Can I get you some tea? I was just making myself a cup," he offered politely, beckoning her inside.
Buffy entered and took a seat at the end of the couch before she replied, "Yeah...sure, Giles, whatever."
"How are you feeling today?" Giles asked kindly as he busied himself in the kitchen.
"Why didn't you tell me, Giles?" Buffy asked in a flat tone tinged with hints of animosity.
Giles poked his head through the breakfast nook, appearing perplexed. He noted that the slayer was staring blankly at the floor in front of her before he countered, "I'm uncertain to what you refer, Buffy. A few details might be helpful."
Her head snapped sideways and Buffy glared at her watcher with cold malevolence. Her voice had a quality that was nearly feral as she snarled at him, "Look, Giles, you asked me how I felt. First thing—first thing that pops into my head: How do you think I feel? I just had two demons use me as a mat in some sorta primitive pissing match." Without missing a beat, she bit the next four words off like a muttered oath, "I feel like shit," then sighed. She inhaled a deep determined breath, trying to beat back the sudden desire for violence. "Why didn't you tell me the slayer was a demon?"
His face went pale as parchment; Giles met the gaze and quickly averted it. He stood stammering to himself for a moment or two before he managed an answer, "Because I didn't know, Buffy." Unsure whether he should run or not, but pretty certain it would do little good if he did, Giles went back to anxiously assembling a tray for their mid-morning tea to busy himself.
Buffy returned her attention to the coffee table as she reflected, "Will told me that demon means spirit, so I looked it up. The etymology of the word—the Latin dæmon means guiding spirit, or the Greek daimon means the same. And we're sorta just mincing words after that. Point is: you could've at least clued me up on that much. This thing...it sucks, Giles. It's a lot worse than the rest of the whole 'Chosen One' gig—dying young and all that bullshit." A cold laugh drifted into the stillness between them and she added sarcastically, "There should've been something in the brochure. Not that I even got the handbook, or learned the secret handshake."
As he listened to his charge speak, Giles brought a tray with a teapot, two cups, a tin of biscuits, creamer, and sugar bowl into the living room and placed them on the coffee table. Once seated, he took the cups and filled them, then he offered in a soft pensive voice, "I suppose I could've shared that, but what difference would it have truly made, Buffy?" He took a sip from his cup and opened the tin of biscuits, taking one to nibble on. I had no idea she even knew the word 'etymology.' He smiled wryly at the thought and quickly suppressed the expression with a sip of tea.
Buffy poured a spoonful of sugar into her tea and stirred it before she remarked, "None, I suppose, once I understood the two things were pretty much the same. Will said she wanted to talk to you about this. Dunno if she did or not." She took a sip of tea, waiting for Giles to comment.
Giles sat for a moment and silently watched the slayer. Her manner changed right before his eyes. She went from being hard edged and aggressive to very painfully withdrawn. "Willow hasn't mentioned you, other than to verify the use of certain spells to aid in your recovery. Wait, what did you mean by 'primitive pissing match'?"
"Two demons, one body, no waiting...vamp and slayer duking it out for the title. It was like that Eyghon thing, Giles. When Will did the merge, I felt like they were trying to rip me apart. I sorta knew it'd be bad, but..." Buffy answered, trailing off to take a sip of her tea.
"Yes, I half expected that there would be some confrontation, but you're alright?" Giles remarked pensively, then took a small bite of his biscuit.
Buffy sighed. "Sorta depends on how you define 'alright.' Am I breathing? Yup. But I haven't felt this bad since Will dragged me out of the ground. Everything's hard and cold again and I'm not sure what to do. The only time I really feel good is when I'm in-in bed with her." A tear slid down her cheek and she added, "Sorry."
Giles nodded and sipped at his tea before offering in a reassuring manner, "No need. You've just been through quite an ordeal, Buffy. I expect it will get better." A short uneasy silence hung between them, feeling pressure to keep the conversation flowing, he queried, "I get the impression that there were no human lives taken by your vampire self. Might I inquire why? With something that is such an inherent part of their nature, it's quite curious for any vampire to abstain."
"That's pretty complicated," Buffy replied, bristling slightly as she considered how to answer. Her expression grew remote and pensive, then she remarked, "Simplest way to put it is: she was scared. It's really weird to say 'she,' but easier for the 'understanding.' I can feel it. It's part of me now. She was always afraid unless she was—" She cleared her throat, unwilling to say the word 'fucking' in front of Giles. A simple hand gesture for him to fill in the blank eventually inspired a knowing look in the older Brit. "She was me, Giles, in every way. She knew the sort of attention she'd draw. She also understood that the moment Will saw her it'd mean a soul. After Angel—" She fell silent again, obviously collecting her thoughts. When she eventually spoke, it was to recite an old credo, "Because it's wrong," she sighed ruefully, "She also knew—I know what it means to be reduced to a piece of meat—to have the same sorta value. Will took the memories, but they're still there. I see them through her. Like a shadow. In a weird way she didn't want—"
Suddenly not hungry in the least, Giles set the biscuit aside on a napkin and took another sip of tea. Setting his cup down, he slid back in his chair. After quietly reflecting for several moments the only thing that came to mind was, "I'm truly sorry, Buffy." He cleared his throat in a futile attempt to suppress the distress that he knew reflected fully on his features. When his mind finally cleared enough to allow focus, he queried, "You said that Willow wished to speak with me? Surely it wasn't regarding the simple etymology of a word."
After setting her cup back on the tray, Buffy laced her fingers in her lap and fixed her gaze on the floor. "No, no it wasn't. The slayer—that part of me—it's been getting stronger. It's actually—I dunno—it's like it has its own needs and agendas. When I first—well, it was just there. Now it's something totally different. It's like it has a mind of its own," she whispered, trying to avoid anything else that might be uncomfortable. She sat back on the couch and crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap again.
"I take it this has been an issue?" Giles prompted patiently. Concern reflected on his face as he took in Buffy's demeanor. Of course it's an issue, you ninny, he chastened himself, hoping she wouldn't notice his poor choice of words.
"Big issue, Giles. What it wants—" Buffy cleared her throat trying to summon the courage to speak her mind, "What it wants is sex. Spike—that was the slayer wanting a mate she could— That's why he—" she cut short, appearing embarrassed.
"Oh dear," Giles intoned.
Buffy shifted around nervously, still refusing to make eye contact with Giles. "Anyway, Will thought you should know, so... She said there wasn't anything in the watchers' diaries about it."
After a short pause to refill the teacups and have another sip, Giles asked in a delicate manner, "May I ask how Willow—? Perhaps that's too personal, but she is human."
Buffy stirred more sugar into her cup and took a small sip. "She's been dealing with it better than I have. She set up a couple nights a week to feed the slayer what it wants. It's pretty weird, but... Thing is, she's— I'm not even sure I can say this..." she tried, but fell short.
Sensing a need for reassurance, Giles offered, "Buffy, we're both adults and, while our relationship might have overtones that suggest a familial bond, I assure you I would never judge you as a parent might in these matters. Please, feel free to speak your mind."
Buffy set her teacup down again. Restraining the desire to run, she babbled in a stream of consciousness, not bothering to filter her words, "She's trying to break the slayer, Giles, and it scares me. I'm afraid I'll hurt her. That it'll hurt her, but the 'it'll be me 'cause, well, it is me. It uses me as a tool." A deep crimson blush sullied her features and she looked away into the kitchen, trying to recover.
Giles considered what he'd seen. She may well be correct in her concerns. It hadn't occurred to me that the spirit essence of the slayer might evolve. Though, it certainly makes sense that it would. Moreover, she seems so weakened by her recent experience. "Please have Willow to come speak with me before she proceeds."
Buffy nodded aloofly. "I need to go, Giles." She stood up, glancing nervously around the room before she added, "Oh, and thanks. Whatever you said—I got the job."
Before Giles could answer, the slayer was gone.
***********
Willow arrived at home after her last class and looked around the downstairs. "Buffy?" she called out as she bounced up the stairs. Concerned filled her when there was no answer, but she pressed it down and swung the bedroom door open. Her jaw went slack and she stammered, "Bu-Buffy? Are you okay?" The slayer hung naked suspended from the ceiling by the chains. She dropped her backpack on the floor and ran to her partner, lifting her up in the shackles. She looked at the blood that had dried on her forearms and feet, feeling a sudden urge to weep.
"Will, help," Buffy said groggily. When her witch tried to take her down, she fought and raged, "No! Help!"
Willow backed away uncertain what to do. Her eyes filled with tears and she said, "Buffy, I'm not—I-I—"
"Will, give her what she wants," Buffy stated plainly as she stood up averting her gaze to the floor. "She—she's—" she stammered. Her face went dark and she looked up at the redhead with contempt. "Listen to the child."
Realizing that the door was wide open and Dawn would be home any moment, Willow hurried to shut it. By the time she returned, Buffy was begging for help again. She made a few soothing hushing noises and went to the closet to prepare. I guess a little TV and some peace and quiet are now off the menu. She mumbled the spells to lock the room and stifle the noise as she undressed. After fastening the harness on, she took out the whip and walked around her partner.
The first lash sent a surge of pleasure through her body and Buffy moaned.
Willow drew back as she perceived the reaction. This—this is wrong.
"Again," Buffy begged, going limp to put pressure on her injured wrists. The second lash ripped through her and she groaned appreciatively.
Willow looked at the bloody stripes on her lover's back. Oh Goddess! How can she be enjoying this? She drew back and hit the slayer again, praying the reaction would change. There was a slight wince as the whip cut deeper into some of the already damaged tissue, but the reaction was still the same. She walked around the trembling body of her mate and looked into her eyes. It was still Buffy.
The next blow landed across her breasts and Buffy screamed. Her body tensed with the pain as the following blow came, she slipped away.
***********
Her eyes fluttered open and Buffy cast her gaze anxiously around the dark, empty space. It took her a moment to determine that she was lying on her side. The lack of horizon and the thick blackness combined to create a disorienting effect. She rolled and felt something not quite solid move under her body. Finally, she found her bearings and righted herself. A disembodied voice cooed at her in the inky black, 'Back for more, foolish whelp?' The slayer stepped out of the murk.
A wicked laugh poured from the slayer as she examined the torn, bleeding form of her host. Her face twisted in a mock facsimile of a smile. "Love indeed."
Buffy stared for a moment at the representation of the demon. A thick, cracked coat of dried blood and grime were its only clothing. As her gaze moved up the slender form, she trembled. It was very much her, but not. There was something decidedly perverted and grotesque about this creature.
The slayer pointed at the fresh wounds on her host's chest with a gnarled, hooked finger. "Do we always flay the ones we love? Were hearts and flowers just not enough? A heart, still beating, ripped from a living victim. Flowers plucked from the grave of a child before the eyes of its grieving parents. Is this love to you, pet?"
Buffy glanced down at the open, bleeding gashes on her breasts. As she stared, another opened across her stomach. Somewhere in the distance she heard herself scream. "She's only doing what I asked." She peered down at the blood and another wound opened across her chest. Her agonizing screams echoed again in the hollow darkness. "You! This is your fault. If you'd just—"
"And why would I do that? It's so much more fun to watch the pain. Are you sure she doesn't enjoy it? Why would she choose a whip so long and fine if she didn't just love to watch her lover bleed?" the slayer purred viciously as she watched the blood flow leaving trails down the host's form.
Buffy looked up, staring defiantly into the crimson eyes of the slayer. "Because she knew you'd only respond to pain. Why's it always gotta be pain with you demons? Why couldn't it be tickles or foot massages? This is your fault. Not hers. Not mine." The screams died down and a trickle of blood streamed down onto her thigh. She put her hands on her waist and cocked her hips to the right. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?"
The slayer's face split in a hideous smile. She put her hand to her chin as if to ponder a thought, then stated firmly, "I don't like the witch. She's weak as a rabbit—scrawny, pathetic little thing. I don't see what you see in her. No hard cock to ride. I could snap her with one hand. She can't even face me without the chains." She spat at her host, "You will find me another, or I will find one myself. The vampire was much more entertaining than the tin soldier."
"Oh no... This is not a negotiation. If you don't like it, then I guess you'll go without. No big to me," Buffy growled resolutely at the demon.
"And you plan to stop me how? You barely kept me from popping the old man's head like and overly-ripe grape," the slayer cooed.
Buffy turned her back and crossed her arms. "Go get fucked!"
As the slayer stalked off into the darkness, she snarled, "Maybe, or maybe your stupid little witch will beat you to death trying to summon me. We'll see."
"I'll wear a chastity belt if I have to," Buffy mumbled as she sat down, looking at the fresh wounds while the quiet void filled with the sound of insane laughter.
***********
It was dark in their room when the slayer awoke. She sniffed the air and the aroma of blood and flowers filled her senses. Withdrawing from the witch's embrace, she sat on the edge of the bed. After a few moments, she stood, moving to the window. She pulled the sash open, tasting the smells of the cool night air.
Willow stirred from a restless sleep to an empty bed. She glanced anxiously around in time to see Buffy open the window screen and hang her body out into the moist, chilly night air. By the time she managed to call her name, the slayer was gone. Still muzzy from sleep, she looked once more around the room and what had just happened finally hit her. She snapped awake and rose to hastily dress.
Willow spent hours combing the local cemeteries, searching desperately for her missing partner. She walked the campus paths, reluctantly calling her name. It struck her as a bit strange that, in the miles she walked through and around the surrounding town and woods, there wasn't a single vampire or demon. It was eerie how quiet things were. Finally, as the sun rose, she returned home utterly exhausted. She heard Dawn fumbling around in the bathroom preparing for school while she climbed the stairs. When she stole into the quiet of their room, she found Buffy curled up in a ball asleep on the bed.
Willow crossed the room and shut the window. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, she turned to look at her partner who was lying exposed in the cool air. Her hair was tangled and there were a few leaves stuck in the golden locks. She gently pulled them out and continued the inspection. The bandages she'd so caringly applied that night were gone, exposing the fresh wounds that seemed to have reopened and bled. Her face and body were smudged with dirt, blood and grime. The wounds on her back, chest and stomach were angry and open, seeping blood. The desire to wake her and care for the injuries gnawed at the witch. When she heard Dawn go downstairs for breakfast, she gently tried to rouse the sleeping slayer.
Buffy hung on the edge of sleep. Her mind was awash with images both erotic and visceral. Somewhere through the haze she heard her witch calling her name. As the fog cleared, she became aware of the pain. She fought, wanting nothing more than to slip back into the fantasy, but the voice and the pain finally wrenched her into the real world. She groaned and looked up into the redhead's pleading face. Her voice was thick with sleep when she finally managed, "What, Will?"
"I need to—I mean...I'm sorry, Buffy," Willow babbled thickly through a shower of tears.
Buffy watched her witch hold out her hands in an attempt to get her to rise. After a few moments, she finally took the hands and rose to her feet. Sharp pain accompanied the action and she groaned, wishing her partner would just leave her alone.
After going to the closet to retrieve some old towels, Willow carefully wrapped her partner's body and led her into the bathroom. Once the shower was running, she peeled off her own clothing. She split her attention, watching Buffy's reaction as she let the towels fall.
A shocked gasp broke the silence between them as Buffy stared in horror at herself in the mirror. "Will, what—what happened?" I'm becoming her.
"I-I think—I'm not sure...but I think the slayer's punishing me for... She said taming her would kill you. That I was an arrogant child. I think she's—" In the bright light of the bathroom, Willow was better able to assess the injuries. The marks left by her attempts to summon the slayer were only a fraction of the damage. There were scrapes and wounds randomly etching her partner's form. The deep claw marks on her shoulder made the redhead shudder. Struggling a moment to steel herself, she guided Buffy into the shower.
Buffy winced as the water hit her. All of the scrapes and cuts burned as her witch gently bathed her.
"I'm sorry, Buffy. I just—you need to be clean before— I can keep infection from setting in, but..." Willow offered. Her voice faded as she focused on cleansing around the three claw marks that cut deep into the flesh of the slayer's right upper arm. This has to be demon. I wonder what kind. She's lucid so...toxins— We'll have to wait and see. She sighed gratefully when she finally made it to her lover's feet, finding that the remainder of the injuries were mostly minor abrasions that should heal before noon. After quickly washing her partner's hair, she guided her silently from the shower and dried her off.
Once they were back in the room, Buffy took a seat in the high-back chair and appreciatively accepted the blanket her witch draped around her. Her expression grew detached as she inattentively watched the redhead strip their bed and remake it.
Willow laid out more old towels on the fresh bedding and gestured for Buffy to come. When her partner was lying comfortably, she retrieved the first aid kit out of the closet and the jar of ointment.
As her witch began to gently tend to her injuries, Buffy reflected, "I talked to Giles about this yesterday. Like you said, 'no real details,' but the truth. Maybe—well, he was as clueless as we are—more clueless really—but maybe he got something figured."
"Buffy, how much do you remember?" Willow asked pensively while she applied antiseptic to the various wounds.
Suppressing the impulse to wince, Buffy clenched her jaws as her witch cleaned the injury to her arm. Once the worst of the discomfort had ended, she gathered her thoughts. I can't lie to her again. She—I already sorta told her the truth when... "Pretty much all of it I guess. I mean, I'm not sure, but I have these dreams—really intense dreams. They're umm...well...wow...and not in the bad way—least not usually," she blushed despite the discomfort, "Actually...they're kinda hot."
Willow glanced up and grinned at the blush. "So...is that—I—you like it?" she babbled, turning her attention back to the injured arm.
"Well yeah, what's not to like? I've never—I've had erotic dreams, but nothing like these. They're so real," Buffy responded awkwardly. Her gaze settled on a low spot on the wall opposite her witch.
"Buffy, I'm pretty sure Giles isn't gonna know much. We can check, but chances are he's just as clueless as we are. It's not like there's ever even been a slayer that saw her twenty-first birthday. We're sorta flying blind." Willow sighed and taped a large sterile pad over the claw marks. As she wrapped the arm in clean gauze, she reflected, "We can sorta only go three ways with this. Leaving it isn't an option. Not after tonight." She taped the gauze in place and moved to the wounds on her lover's chest, applying a coat of the salve as she continued, "I can—I'm not even sure how without allowing her to hurt me. I can submit to the slayer. Allow her to dominate me."
Buffy turned so quickly it made her witch jump. Her gaze fixed on the redhead and she sternly said, "No." Her voice broke as she continued, "She'd—no, Will, she'd hurt you. She might—I can't—she might kill you. She threatened to and..."
Willow applied another bandage before she spoke, "The second choice: I leave." She watched her partner's jaw fall limp.
"No!" Buffy snapped. Tears welled up and began to pour down her temples. "No, please, Will. I need you," she begged while she wept.
Willow took a deep breath and continued, "Third choice: I finish what I started."
Buffy considered what this might mean for only a second or two before she confirmed, "That's the only choice. I don't care about the 'what,' Will. Just do it."
"But Buffy, I'm not sure—with you remembering—I don't know what it'll do to you. You're already—" Willow stumbled. Her gaze fixed on her partner's face. After a few moments of searching the evasive eyes for some indication of the thoughts behind them, she finally reached up and forced Buffy to look at her. "You're already—because of— You can't even look at me. What makes you think this—? It's not what's best for you. In fact, it's what's worst."
A hard, determined expression set on Buffy's face. She peered defiantly into her witch's eyes for several moments before she impassively remarked, "I won't let you leave and I won't let her hurt you. It's the only choice."
An exasperated sigh hissed from the witch. She released the slayer and turned her attention back to tending the wounds. Frustrated tears clouded her vision as she continued to numbly work. Eventually she rallied enough focus to state heatedly, "You don't get it, do you? You're asking me to do what Spike did. It was hard enough when I thought you wouldn't remember. Now I know you do. How the hell do you expect me to—? How can you—?" she threw her hands up, abandoning the task, "That's just it though, you don't care about you. I bet some little piece of Buffy still thinks she deserves punishment for whatever sin. Is that it, Buffy? Do you want me to torture you so you can fulfill some twisted sense of justice? For the death of Warren Mears...or whatever other— The weight of the world, right, Buffy?"
Buffy stared at her witch for several minutes before answering, watching the frustration and pain reflect in her features and wanting desperately to soothe the tears away. Her tone was patient and reassuring when she finally did speak, "This isn't about blame, Will. It's about love. I can't let you go. I won't. And I'd rather die than hurt you." A subtle smile warmed her features as she added, "Oh and, Will? I got the job so...whatever...do it before next Monday."
"You got—you mean the security job? Really?" Willow sputtered, trying to calm down.
Buffy nodded. "Really. Like, enough that we can make a life together...and the rest of it—well, we'll get it figured. Thing is, I can't—I need this to be over. I need for life to normal up."
***********
Buffy spent most of the day alone in bed, soothing the anxiety she felt for what lay ahead. Willow finally agreed that this was the only way. Willow then left to gather her assignments for class and make all the necessary preparations. By the time her witch returned, the injuries from the previous evening were mostly healed.
Willow stood in the doorway watching her lover fondle the moist, silky flesh. She—even after everything—it's an escape...
"You still like watching me, don't you?" Buffy asked in a distant manner. Her fingers dipped lower to massage the thick, healing salve inside.
"I still...you'll always be the most beautiful. I love you, Buffy," she offered frankly. After shutting the door, Willow walked over to the bed and deposited the two heavy shopping bags on the floor at her feet. She fished into the first bag and pulled out a length of chain.
"I love you too, Will." The clanking noise caught her attention and Buffy turned to look.
Willow met her partner's gaze and offered nervously, "No more of the—we're gonna do this slow. I can't inflict that much—not for that long."
Buffy watched as her witch spread the contents of the two bags out on the bed between them, still absently caressing her sex. Paddles replaced the whip and she felt herself flood with desire. Smooth, padded manacles were exchanged for the rough shackles.
Willow watched the reaction and commented, "You approve?"
"Umm...yeah, Will, but I'm not sure what—" Buffy answered as a soft blush rose on her cheeks.
"The slayer and you are linked. She'll love it. Which should make my job easier. We're gonna go slow, Buffy. I'm not gonna force anything. When she shows—we'll negotiate rather than fight. It'll be better. I was wrong," Willow offered sheepishly. When her lover responded by leaving the bed and walking round to face her — straddling her bent knee — she felt her face flush too. She relaxed as Buffy lay down crosswise on her lap, with her upper body resting on the bed. She stared down at the silky tanned skin of her lover's bare bottom. Buffy's legs were parted and hung to either side of her thigh. Willow flooded with pleasure as she began to caress the supple skin.
Buffy moaned and reached for a leather paddle, passing it back to her witch. When the redhead accepted the paddle, she smiled and purred, "I've been a very bad girl, Mistress."
"No, Buffy, you've been very good," Willow countered and set the paddle aside, using her hand instead. The first swing was just hard enough to raise a slight blush and her lover trembled with pleasure. "To thirty, Buffy. Count for me and no cumming until I say." The soft sheen from the ointment and the subtle floral fragrance mixed with her lover's own musky scent made her head swim as she continued the light spanking. She stopped briefly to caress the moist, silken folds, returning immediately with another, slightly-harder smack.
Buffy counted softly as her witch paddled and caressed her bare bottom. By twenty, she could feel the muscles of her sex twitch and convulse after each stroke, then they grew gradually firmer. She felt the skin warm and turn numb and said, "Twenty-five, thank you, Mistress," mid-groan. When thirty finally arrived, her body was alive with yearning. She barely managed to crawl off her lover's lap and push the toys aside to lie down.
Willow prodded her partner around on the bed and chained her into position with the new shackles. "Buffy, you're gonna spend most of the next week just like this."
As her lover undressed, Buffy tested the new bonds. They were just as strong and limiting as the old, but it would be nearly impossible for her to cause herself harm with them. She glanced down at the pink stripes on her breasts and breathed out a deep sigh. "Are you sure—I mean she—we're sort of used to..."
Her chin dipped in a subtle nod as Willow kneeled on the bed. She crawled up the length of her lover's body and settled atop her, pressing the dildo inside. The rhythm was gentle and soothing to start as she replied in a silky voice, "It'll be fine, Buffy."
This was not at all what she expected and her mind raced for a time. Eventually Buffy relaxed and melted into the tender ministrations. The gentle kisses, soft caresses, soft soothing coos, all left her feeling warm and loved. As the pace increased she arched her hips into the vigorous strokes. Her body trembled for release, but she pressed it back, waiting for the words. The hushed purring voice of her witch finally filled the room, 'Cum for me, Buffy.' No four words ever sounded sweeter to her.
Willow felt the bed strain as her lover pulled tight against her bonds. She allowed the crashing waves of passion to run their course unaltered. As the slayer's body drew quiet, she increased the pace and harshness of her thrusts, knowing it would start to ache, but the discomfort wouldn't cause any lasting injury.
Buffy racked against the bonds when her witch didn't stop to her give time to recover. The constant pressure turned unpleasant. When it finally started to hurt, she growled with displeasure. Warm soft hands cupped her shoulders, massaging the tight muscles. For an instant she melted into the soothing touch, then a sharp pain shot through her neck and shoulders. Her lover seized her throat, biting painfully into the sensitive flesh. As she thrashed with all her strength to escape the torment, her senses dimmed, finally slipping entirely away.
***********
The thick veil of sleep slowly lifted, and with it went the stream of deeply erotic images. Her eyes fluttered open and Buffy longed to touch. She needed to feel something inside almost more than she needed water. Both desires were so pressing that she gently moved and raggedly whispered her witch's name. The soft, sleepy form pressing into the curve of her body shifted as she croaked, "Willow," once more, sounding worse than before. Completely awake now, she became aware that, despite everything, she actually felt better than she had in days. Another slight shift caused her lover to stir. "Will?" she croaked again through the heavy thirst.
Willow stirred, glancing sleepily around the dimly lit room. She sat up and stretched, then rubbed her eyes. "Hungry?" she asked groggily.
"Thirsty mostly," Buffy replied in a gravely voice, shifting against the restraints.
Willow got up and released her mate. "I'm gonna go make us food. Take a shower or whatever you want until I get back," she suggested as she put on her robe.
Buffy sat up and stretched. A soft blush turned her cheeks rosy and her gaze fixed on the floor at her witch's feet, "May I cum? Please, Mistress?"
"Yes, Buffy, if that's what you need. You have half an hour to spend doing whatever, but then we start again," Willow replied, then slipped out the door. When she returned, her lover lay caressing her sex. She's utterly insatiable, but I guess most of this is just dreams to her so...that and the no touching. She set two bottles of water and a plate of sandwiches on the bedside table, then whispered, "Cum for me, Buffy," and her lover's body exploded in a surge of passion. She took half a sandwich and started to nibble. When her partner fell quiet, she watched her take one of the bottles of water and drink half of it in one long gulp. Willow giggled when Buffy greedily grabbed for a sandwich, tucking in immediately. Knew she'd be starved. It's kind of a constant with her. Allowing a few moments to pass lazily by while the slayer ate like she'd never seen food before, she finally asked pensively. "Why do you ask if it's okay to cum? You know I don't own you, right?"
Buffy swallowed the bite she was working on and took a large gulp of water before she replied in a soft almost childish voice, "That's not true." After taking another hurried bite of the sandwich, she peered at her witch's furrowed brow. "I didn't mean to upset you, but...we own each other, remember?"
After finishing a bite of her sandwich, Willow prompted, "Yeah...but you didn't answer the question, Buffy."
"I dunno, Will. It's like something deep down tells me it'll hurt. I'm not sure why. I haven't really thought about it so much 'cause I love hearing you say it. It's...umm...well, the words are..." Buffy responded pensively, then curled around her witch as she sat on the edge of the bed.
They both fell silent for a time, focusing on eating. Willow finally commented distantly, "The reason you think it'll hurt is 'cause Spike conditioned you to think that. That's why the worry."
Buffy finished the bottle of water, instantly wanting another. She pointed at the second and saw her witch nod. "If you don't like it, I can try to stop," she whispered as she opened the second bottle.
"It's not a matter of like. Actually, I love it. It's just the 'why' that's—well, it's really disturbing," Willow stated plainly as she stood to get more water. "So, you're okay with this?"
"I feel better than I have in days," Buffy replied bluntly before she polished off the second bottle of water.
"'Kay...I'll be right back. Do whatever you need while I'm gone. We'll start again when you're ready," Willow instructed, then slipped out the door.
Buffy finished eating and put on her robe to go pee. When she returned, Willow was back. "Please, Mistress, one more," she asked sheepishly, tilting her head to gaze at the floor as she pointed at the new bottles of water on the nightstand.
"Okay Buffy, but quickly," Willow directed patiently. It's weird. Like a mix. She watched her mate quickly drain the bottle of water.
After placing the empty bottle in the trash, Buffy laid down on the bed, stretching her arms and legs into position. She felt the padded shackles lock down one at a time and closed her eyes when they were finally in place. Moments later, the dildo slipped inside and she moaned. It didn't take long for her to start begging for release.
Willow listened to the words, 'Please, Mistress,' repeat several times before she issued the command, "Cum for me, Buffy." Her partner's back arched rigid underneath her and she watched the cascade. She's right—healthier than she has been in days—since before the merge. She feels a bit healthier mentally too. The mix is weird, but she may just be that now. Pieces of one and the other. She increased the rhythm, sensing the discomfort build. After several minutes, a low guttural snarl erupted from her irritated, over-stimulated lover. She answered it by cupping the apex of her partner's shoulders and digging her fingers into the subclavian pressure points. The snarl turned to a sharp growl when her hands clamped down and she responded by biting down on the slayer's throat. Feel like I'm taking a page from Spike's book. At least I can tell if there's lasting damage and correct if... That's the real difference, though—the caring.
Buffy felt the harsh bite and slowly slipped away.
***********
As time passed, the deep green eyes left her dreams. The days seemed to blend together into one thick, murky haze. Buffy could feel the slayer writhing inside her during the few moments she was actually awake and alone. It came as no surprise to her that, in the dreams, none of the sex was conventional. What did shock her was that she was never sore and never felt in the least bit abused. It was, in point of fact, profoundly erotic. It was also a true juxtaposition of views. On one hand, she became very comfortable with the sensations in her reverie. She began to wonder in the moments between dream and lucidity what it would be like for her witch to make love to her this way. On the other hand, the slayer seemed completely enraged. She viewed it as the deepest humiliation and vowed to kill the witch over and over in the dreams. Each time she did, it terrified Buffy.
Anytime she was awake and wholly herself, Willow tended to her like she was the most important thing in her world, then the ritual would begin again. There was a sense of order to this life. She was never hungry, never cold, and when Buffy was awake she felt completely loved. In truth, she didn't want it to end, but she wondered how her lover was managing. She didn't require that much sleep and, with bulk of her waking hours being suppressed to the world of dreams, she found actually found she needed less. At least she imagined this was so. It was hard to separate the two things.
The slayer shifted anxiously in the restraints, trying to evade the penetrating glare of the witch. It made her angry when the arrogant little witch made the child's body writhe with delight. This was an abomination. It was unnatural. A sense of profound shame tore at the slayer. The sense that the child took pleasure in her disgrace made the slayer livid. She wanted to lash out and strike them both down for their insolence, but still she couldn't meet the witch's gaze. Each time the slayer retreated, the witch or the child would press her back to face the torment.
***********
Her eyes cracked tentatively open and Buffy looked around the expanse of the dark void. What in the hell? I thought I—there wasn't any pain—least not so much. She stood up wondering why she'd slipped back into the safe space. The sounds that echoed in the cavernous expanse this time were of passion not pain. It was extremely strange to hear herself moan with pleasure from this perspective, but she wrote it off with the thousand other weirdnesses that made up her life. She turned around to see the slayer slip from the shadow. There was something markedly less menacing about the creature that stood before her this time. It was like some part of her had broken. The pride seemed to have slipped away, leaving a much more subdued beast.
"Child," the slayer said in an almost humble tone.
Buffy smiled at the slayer and admonished her, "Would you knock it off with the 'child' thing? Name's 'Buffy.' It's really not that hard."
The slayer gazed into the host's eyes and tried to reason with her. "I called you to see if you would reconsider. The witch is not good for us. Look at what she does. It's a perversion, a humiliation."
"She knows you hate it," Buffy remarked wryly, then winked. An amused smile settled over her smug features. "Thought you said the witch was pathetic? Firming up, are we? So 'pathetic' she can pretty much strike us down with a single word. Looks to me like you're here to beg."
The slayer stood up tall and spat defiantly. "I do not beg!"
"You beg. Listen," Buffy prompted and fell silent. Though the expanse of the void the words, 'Please, Mistress,' rang. "We all beg. She has that effect."
The slayer folded her arms in front of her. "That's the shell. I left her to entertain the witch."
Buffy put her arm around the slayer and turned them both in the direction of the sound. As she began to guide them out, she remarked, "Clue up... Shell, me, you...all sorta the same animal. We all live here. Unless you can figure a way to change it, we're kinda stuck. We can do it peacefully or we can fight. The fighting...it's wearing a bit thin, but if I have to, the 'chastity belt' threat—it's a promise. Guess who'll get the key. Chained to the bed every night," she sighed, "Sounds a bit tedious, but whatever it takes." She stood at the archway leading out of the void and pushed the slayer forward. "Now go out there and be a good slayer—our witch has hella stamina. Just enjoy it. No eye contact and don't forget to beg to cum. She loves that."
***********
Buffy's eyes fluttered open in the dimly lit room and there was peace. The dreams weren't filled with strife. She lay there searching, examining the dream. The slayer begged? How long? What day is this? She could feel the slayer inside her sleeping like a contented kitten. "Will? Will, what day is it?" she rasped thickly through the thirst as she shifted around, trying to rouse her witch.
"Huh?" Willow asked sleepily. It took her a moment to collect herself enough to understand the question. "Oh...it's Saturday."
"Saturday morning?" Buffy prompted, glancing at the soft light that shone in through the window.
Willow took a second to peer muzzily at the alarm clock before she replied, "Evening...I think. See the p.m. thingy on the clock? Are you hungry?"
"Very thirsty," Buffy responded in a soft, gravely voice. Her eyes drifted shut as her witch released the restraints. She lay quietly caressing the moist folds of her sex, awaiting the sound of the door. I should've known that. I always feel restless at this time of day. Not feeling her—the unrest—I can't remember. Was I in high school last time? It may've been before Sunnydale. I dunno—being at peace is really weird. When the door opened, she heard the words and plunged her fingers inside.
Buffy's cries filled the room as Willow placed a tray with bottled water two sandwiches and two bowls of soup on the desk. Music. Goddess, I'll never get tired of that sound. She crossed the room to deliver the water, then returned taking her bowl of soup off the tray and placing it on the desk. She carried the tray over to her lover and set it in front of her just as she finished gulping down half the first bottle of water.
After gratefully receiving the soup, Buffy took a tentative sip to test the temperature, then took a bite of the sandwich. Once her mouth was clear, she whispered, "Will, I think—I'm not sure, but I think you did it."
Returning to her desk, Willow took a seat and began to eat. She glanced up, distracted by hunger and the dull ache in her stomach and back muscles, she asked, "Did what?"
"The slayer—she's—it's weird—she's at peace," Buffy mumbled before taking another sip of soup.
Willow stretched to loosen her tense muscles and groaned. "That's, well...wow, but we should finish, Buffy," she replied, still sidetracked by the aching body.
Buffy was slightly hurt by the quick dismissal. After taking another bite of her sandwich and washing it down with several sips of soup, she commented, "I didn't say we shouldn't, but, Will...I can't remember the last time I felt this—I dunno—settled, content maybe. It's a big deal."
A soft sigh slipped out and Willow glanced up to see the wounded expression on her lover's face. Her heart melted. "I'm sorry, Buffy. I just—I-I..." she stammered, unable to bring up her own troubles.
After a moment of careful study, Buffy offered, "You're in pain." She could see it clearly written on her witch's face once she took the time to look.
Willow simply nodded and went back to silently finishing her meal. By the time she was done, Buffy was on her second bottle of water, having ravaged her plate of food. She took the plate and returned to the kitchen. The house was empty and there was a note informing her that Dawn was spending the night with Xander and Anya and something about poker. Great, they're gonna teach the kid to gamble. Just what we need. She snickered. It's been good of them to step in and help, Giles too. Between patrols and Dawn, this has been harder on them than me. She quickly cleaned up the mess and returned to the room. When she entered, Buffy was laying, ready to be chained.
Her eyes closed as the shackles clamped down. Buffy's body was awash with pleasure within moments. The words, the pleasure, the pain, the bite and then she drifted lazily back into the shadow. The dreams came and she listened to the contented purr of the slayer. Her mistress loved her; she knew this as surely as she knew the sun would rise in the morning.