CHAPTER 16
A Criminal Mind
You've seen my hands are steady
You've seen my face before
Soon you can take your last look
And they'll close the door
I stand accused before you
I have no tears to cry
And you will never break me
Until the day I die…
"That is Willy's?" Willow asked the crumpled figure at her feet. The two of them were on the rooftop of the building across the alley from the place the female vampire had led her to.
"Yes," came the reply from the visibly shaking vampire where she huddled in pain on the tarpaper rooftop.
The vampire Audrey had been walking through an alley with her boyfriend, looking for a meal, when the naked demoness had dropped from above onto her boyfriend. She'd done something to him that made him paralyzed. Then the demoness had turned on Audrey, hitting and slashing until she had curled up in defeat.
Audrey watched from where she lay motionless on the ground as the demoness first stripped her boyfriend of any valuables and cash. Then, to her horror, she saw the demoness rip his chest open and literally suck the demonic energy from his undead heart. Audrey decided that was the moment to flee - while the demoness was otherwise occupied.
It turned out to be a mistake.
She screamed when the demoness slammed onto her back, biting deeply into Audrey's neck and bearing her down onto the hard pavement. Audrey kept screaming in terror and pain. Even as a human she was never strong willed; that's why she picked strong boyfriends, not caring how they treated her only that they took care of her. Being turned into a vampire hadn't changed that. So when the demoness, using the vice-like grip of her teeth, started smashing her face into the pavement, Audrey instinctively went limp and stopped her screaming. No matter how much pain she was in.
After smashing Audrey's face into the cement a couple more times, the demoness finally stopped and released the hold she had on her neck.
Audrey, who was used to this kind of treatment, made herself lay very still, ignoring the waves of pain coming from both her face and neck. When the demoness flipped her over and pushed her face into her own, Audrey made sure not to meet her eyes. Then the demoness spoke, her words lisping slightly due to her muzzle, "You no run… OK?"
Still looking away, Audrey forced herself to nod even though the pain from the back of her neck caused her to let out an agonized whimper.
"You know where Willy's is?"
Audrey repeater her nod; though, this time she bit back her whimper of pain.
It came as a shock when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the demoness' face shift into something more human. She was then pulled upright and told to stay - after being pushed up against the closest wall.
With an effortlessness that astounded Audrey, the demoness leaped onto the roof of a nearby one-story building. In a matter of minutes, she returned, landing quietly beside her. In one hand, the demoness carried a large shoulder bag. In the other hand, she held a trash bag with something heavy in it, judging by how the plastic was stretched.
After pulling on a short, blue dress she had taken out of the large shoulder bag, the demoness shoved the plastic bag into Audrey's hands and told her to take her to Willy's, avoiding any run-in with humans. Staggering in the general direction of the local demon bar, Audrey was thankful she knew where it was. All of her boyfriends had frequented it in the past.
On the way there, the demoness questioned her about all kinds of things: did she know of any demonic centipedes?
Audrey answered, "No."
Did she know where the person called Fence was?
It took Audrey a moment to figure out what that meant. Once she did, Audrey was more than happy to explain about Willy buying stuff. Or, if the item was too expensive, he would tell you -for a cut- where to take it.
When the demoness asked what a cut was, Audrey hurriedly gave an explanation and that lead into the fact that Fences only paid about forty percent of the items' actual cost.
The demoness wasn't happy at all.
Audrey prepared herself for a beating, like the ones so many of her boyfriends, both human and vampire, would give her for making them mad. She breathed a sigh of relief when none came. Maybe she finally found someone who could take care of her without the beatings. She did notice that no name was forthcoming from the demoness, and Audrey didn't ask. Some demons considered their names sacred. Audrey didn't ask about the weird markings on the one shoulder that the dresses thin spaghetti straps did nothing to conceal, either.
The other thing that made Audrey think that she had found a new protector was the demoness giving her a large green dog treat, telling her to eat it. It really didn't faze Audrey that much; one old boyfriend had made her wear a collar and leash. It didn't hurt that she liked the minty flavor or how the chewy treat made her teeth and gums tingle.
When they got closer to Willy's, the amount of demonic foot traffic picked up, which was surprising, since it was summer. This time of year there were usually very few demons about on the Hellmouth. Something must be up, Audrey thought to herself. The other demons proximity seemed to bother the demoness, and she made Audrey take her across the rooftops.
Now that they had finally reached their destination, Audrey let herself drop to the roof top with a painful groan. All of the bruises, cuts, and wounds on the back of her neck made her feel weak with pain and hunger. She hoped that maybe the demoness, as a reward for good behavior, would buy her some fresh blood at Willy's.
"Up."
Audrey stood, facing the demoness who had set her shoulder bag down. The demoness reached over and took the trash bag out of Audrey's hands. It was at that point that Audrey knew she wasn't going to make it out "alive" so to speak. She hated how her voice quivered when she asked, "Why?"
Tilting her head, the demoness simply answered with, "You food." In a blur, her arm shot out, and she grasped Audrey around the neck.
For a split second, Audrey felt the demoness' long fingers digging cruelly into the wounds in the back of her neck - then she felt nothing at all.
Soon after that she was dust.
Willow stood up from her feeding with a frown of disappointment; she had hoped by giving the vampire a minty bone - a large one at that- it would help with the bad taste the vampires left in her mouth. With a shrug, Willow turned and quickly gathered up her two bags before walking over to the ledge. She hesitated for a moment before stepping off the two-story building, not due to the height, but for what awaited her down below. With her tingle sense, Willow could feel that there were quite a few demons in the bar, and such a concentration was rather unnerving.
Landing quietly on the pavement, Willow made her way to the door; before entering it, though, she let her Hunter face out. She had noticed that the vampires were intimidated by it. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to enter the bar with a confident stride.
The first thing to strike her were the smells of the place; though varied in both odor and intensity, none were pleasant. With a slight grimace gracing her muzzle, Willow made her way toward the human behind the bar. She ignored the slight ripple of quiet that her entrance had provoked because the patrons conversation's resumed quickly.
The human behind the bar eyed her warily as she set her bags on the bar top and climbed onto one of the stools. Instead of crouching on the barstool cushion, Willow sat like the others, allowing her to bury the claws from one foot into the wooden floor. Once she was in place, he walked up and asked, "So what will it be?"
"It be?" Willow asked in puzzlement.
With a hint of sarcasm -which was lost on Willow the human answered, "What do you want to drink?"
"Water," Willow replied. She quickly added, "With ice."
"One ice water coming up," he said with a nod as he turned away to fill her order.
Willow watched him as he got a plastic bottle of water from under the bar and, after filling a glass full of ice, poured the water in. After paying for it, Willow took a sip, the lips on her muzzle allowing her to do so without mishap. Willow said to the human, "I looking for Willy."
The human raised his eyebrows before replying, "That's me, babe."
Narrowing her eyes, Willow said, "Willow is my name, not babe." Willow wasn't sure why, but she really didn't like him calling her that.
Willy raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Willow it is and a word of advice. If you meet a certain feisty blonde with a stake, tell her your name… might buy you enough time to run for it."
"OK," Willow said with a bit of confusion. Buffy already knew her name.
Wiping the dirty bar top, Willy asked, "So what do you need old Willy for?"
"You fence?"
Giving her a shark-like smile, he leaned closer. "Ahh. You got some loot you need disposing of, huh?"
"Yes."
"Well let me see it then, and I'll give you an honest deal." Willy ignored the chuckles from the various patrons in the bar; he already figured that this female was pretty damned green. Easy pickings in his book.
It did surprise him a little when she reached for her large purse instead of the trash bag. When she dumped the contents of a pouch out onto the bar, he gave a soft grunt of appreciation. Looked like the kid hadn't done too bad, and, judging by the wide variety, it wasn't something she had nicked from one person.
Giving the red head a smile that would put a used car salesman to shame, Willy said, "Its crap." He reach over and picked up the necklace. "OK, I admit it's shiny and all but still crap. Tell you what. I kind of like you, Kid, so I'll give you a break and take all this off you for fifty dollars."
He thought his spiel had gone rather well until she looked him in the eye and said in a rather annoyed tone of voice, "Six hundred and twenty-four dollars."
Still keeping the smile on his face, Willy asked, "Why don't you explain how you came up with such outlandish crazy figure?"
Willy was taken aback when the young demon girl did just that, pointing out each piece's individual price and any characteristics that either added or subtracted from the overall selling price. What really caught his attention was how Willow spoke when describing the loot, very succinctly and precisely; he finally came to the conclusion that she was repeating something verbatim.
When she started reaching for the last piece of the loot, he held his hands up in defeat. "OK… OK I get it; I just got to ask who did you get the appraisal from?"
"Joyce-mom."
"Ahh… your mom, well that's good that your mom is looking out for ya." Really, Willy couldn't care less about Willow's mother; he simply felt relief that is wasn't someone giving out free appraisals trying to either garner favors or put a crimp on his business.
"Tell you what… I'll give you five hundred and seventy-five dollars." Willy held up a hand, forestalling the protest he saw the red head getting ready to voice. "Hey, some of this doesn't sell good around here so I got to send it to LA and that costs me money."
He watched as Willow gave a slight grimace and then nodded to herself. "OK."
Willow watched intently as Willy counted out her money, and, once she had recounted it herself, she pushed the pretties across the bar top to him. She wasn't very happy with not getting the money that Joyce-mom had told her they were worth, but some old memory told her this was the right way.
Willow stored the money, secure in the pouch she had chosen to be her money bag like Joyce-mom had for her gallery. She then emptied the trash bag onto the bar. "I need skull cleaned."
"Skull?" he asked in puzzlement - that turned to shock as he heard the wet, squishy noise coming from the bag. "Wait! No! Don't…"
He was too late.
With a slurping sound, the bag gave up its contents. The large demon head landed with a wet splat as it hit the bar's wooden surface. The demon's blackish blood, having drained out inside the bag during its journey, had congealed into a sticky, gelatinous mess that liberally coated the head (and now the bar itself) as it rolled to a stop, still with the startled expression on the face.
The song "A Criminal Mind" is by Styx.
Mr. Killjoy
If you see me, better flee me
If you hear me, better fear me
I help you from the fryer into the fire
Nananananah - Calling Mr. Killjoy
I'm the death of every party
Nananananah - Calling Mr. Killjoy
And I don't care if you don't like me
NO!
The conversation in the bar ground to a halt as everyone stared at the severed head that now graced the bar top. Willy himself was rather taken aback by the spectacle. He wasn't squeamish - you didn't run a demon bar without developing a tolerance for gore. No, what took him by surprise - and most likely the other patrons in the bar - was the identity of the demon whose head now lay on his lovely bar.
It was a vamped out biker, in the process of coming up for a refill of his A-negative drink, who said the name out loud. "Shit, man, that's Bob the Merc!"
Willy, still with a slightly aghast look on his face, asked Willow, "Hey, Kid, you wouldn't know what happened to Bob here, would you?"
"Yes."
After waiting a moment, Willy asked, trying to keep the aggravation out of his voice, "Well, what happened?" Something about the Kid was starting to cause alarm bells to go off in the back of his head. If it's one thing he had learned, it was to trust his gut feelings in situations like this.
"I ate him," Willow lisped in a matter of fact tone as she looked fondly at the head.
The biker vamp threw his head back as he roared with laughter filled with derision - enough so that even Willow understood she was being mocked.
Willow didn't like being mocked; it called up a lot of dark emotions caused by dim memories of female voices saying nasty words. Those feelings made her bare her teeth in anger at the large vampire, and a very low growl rumbled deep in her chest.
The vampire got right up into her face, his yellow eyes filled with ridicule. His face bore a false look of fear, and he spoke in an overtly childish voice. "Ahh… looky it's a mad little kitten." Then his face hardened as his voice turned menacing. "Listen, Kitten, when you lie, at least make it believable, cause you're in the grownup world now. And you know what we grownups do? We take what we want from little bitches like you, and that makes this..." He reached out to lay one hand on her shoulder bag, while pushing her with the other. "…mine."
The vampires actions reminded Willow so much of the nightmare involving Angel that it cause her to completely lose it.
With a shriek of absolute rage, Willow launched herself from the barstool and slammed into the large vampire with surprising force. Between her denser muscles and skeleton caused by Hell's heavier gravity, plus the sheer speed with which she moved, Willow bowled over the larger vampire. Biting and clawing, even going so far as to rake his upper thighs with the long claws on the end her toes, she ended up straddling him when they landed on the floor.
The male vampire had just enough time to get one arm up to intercept the large fangs heading for his throat; everyone in the bar heard the loud crunch as Willow's powerful jaw muscles splintered the vampire's arm bone. Letting out a yell filled with equal parts anger and pain, the vampire started to brutally punch Willow in the side of her head.
Fortunately for Willow, the thicker skull bone that came with her Hunter face offered a great deal of protection from the blows. Seeing that the punches weren't having the effect he was hoping for (not to mention his fear that the little bitch would literally chew his arm off), the vampire changed tactics. He tried to gouge out an eye with his thumb.
The results weren't what he really wanted. When his thumb came into contact with one of her eyes, he felt a hard surface cover it. Before he could push his thumb through the material, Willow reared back and twisted her head to keep her eyes out of his reach. Unfortunately for him, she didn't let go of his wrist for the move.
With a wet, tearing sound, his hand and wrist tore off. The vampire let out a scream of pain and rage at the sight of the bloody stump that his arm now sported.
The jerking of Willow's head caused the disintegrating appendage to fly from her mouth, breaking apart in a shower of dust as it struck the floor. She got a startled look on her face before spitting out a gold watch that skittered across the bar's wooden floor. The glittering watch distracted her for moment as her eyes followed it.
A moment was all the vampire needed. With a grunt of effort, the vampire ignored the pain from wounds on his upper legs and swung them up to capture Willow's neck between his crossed ankles. With a mighty heave, he jerked her backward by her neck. He intended to break her neck or her back - or smash her head into the floor. Or all three. By this time, he didn't much care; he just wanted the damned bitch off of him.
In Hell, there had been a demon that Willow named Leaper for the great heights and distance they could leap when attacking or running away. Even though she could never come close to what a Leaper could leap, she still ate enough of it to affect her physiology.
As she felt herself being forced backward, Willow pistoned her powerful legs into the hardwood floor with such force that the wood crumpled slightly under her heels.
Her action catapulted her body into a backward summersault, enabling Willow to snap her head free of the vampire's crossed ankles. Even though she was now free, the momentum from the vampire's legs sent Willow tumbling through the air three quarters of the length of the room. Willow landed on all fours, and the claws from her fingers and toes dug into the wooden floor, bleeding off the inertia from her flight.
Much to Willy's dismay, she left three-feet long gouges in the wood.
Even before she came to a complete stop, Willow charged at the vampire biker as the claws on her left hand straightened themselves into wickedly pointed blades. She kept the claws on the other hand curved.
The vampire had just made it to one knee. The demon within him raged at what had happened; though, there was also a healthy mix of fear being, too, when Willow reached him.
He swung weakly, reeling from the pain of his severed hand and from what felt like multiple broken ribs. When Willow had first attacked him, she had raked her hand claws from just under both of his shoulders to right above his waist, cutting through bone and muscle with brutal efficiency.
Willow caught the arm with her right hand, the curved claws digging deeply into the muscles and tendons. While she pulled the arm straight, Willow punched her stiletto claws into the vampire's shoulder joint, immobilizing it.
Even as he roared with pain, the vampire stabbed the jagged bone of his severed wrist into Willow's side, eliciting a grunt of pain from the her and staining her blue dress red with blood.
Freeing her claws from the destroyed shoulder joint, Willow used her left hand to grab the impaling arm and kept it from being pushed in any farther. Freeing her right hand from the vampire's now useless arm, Willow held the hand in front of his face, letting him see the claws liquefying as they straightened themselves out. With a casual ease so contrary to the animalistic quality of her earlier fighting; Willow punched those claws into the vampire's opposite shoulder. With his shoulder joint destroyed, Willow let go of the vampire's severed arm, allowing it to slide limply out of her side.
Willow then sunk the claws from both hands between his ribs, hooking her claws behind the individual bars of bone and pulled with all her might.
With a nauseating splintering sound, Willow literally tore the front half of the already weakened rib cage completely away, opening the vampire's upper chest cavity. The hanging flesh and muscle that left behind was exposed for all to see.
Willow tossed the rib cage to the side, where it rolled across the floor like a macabre hubcap before turning to dust. She grasped both shattered shoulders and, using them for leverage, Willow rammed her open muzzle into his chest with enough force that the upper and lower halves of the muzzle to break partly through the ribs in his back. Causing the back of his shirt to weirdly bulge out with her longest fangs poking themselves through the cloth.
Essence.
The biker vampire had the honor of being the first of her vampire kills not to be paralyzed when she fed so the demon within him felt the very essence that made up its demonic self being ripped away. Such was the agony it felt, the vampire was able to let out a bloodcurdling wail of despair despite the damage done to his chest. Before the demonic entity was completely destroyed, though, its host's body dusted, leaving only the eerily echo of the wail to fade away.
The other demons and vampires stared in shocked silence as Willow slowly stood up, her hair blowing slightly in an unseen breeze. Her slitted pupils glowed with the same hellish red as the sparks that danced across her face and neck before disappearing under her skin. The wound in her side quickly closed itself up as blue-white and red sparkles raced across the torn flesh and muscle.
A Brachen demon said it best when he said in a subdued voice, "Well, shit!"
Later…
Willow loped silently through the darkness following the verbal directions Willy had given her. She didn't have much time. When she had left Willy's, the large clock in the center of town had rung eleven times, and one of Joyce-mom's hunting rules was that she had to come home when the large clock rang twelve times.
After Willow had killed the large vampire, the other demons had given her a wide birth, and Willy himself seemed to treat her differently.
It made Willow feel good.
He had told her there were no centipedes in town, but that there was a clan of demons that might be able to help remove the flesh from the skull. He had called ahead to see if they would see her.
They would - but only if she promised not to kill them.
She had promised not to kill them and intended to keep her word. It just seemed very important to her to keep her promises; Willow figured the feelings must be something from before her Fall when she was human.
The area of town she made her way through was filled with large buildings. Warehouses, a memory whispered to her. And her destination was what Willy had called a fertilizer plant located on the edge of town.
On the way to the fertilizer plant, Willow took an impromptu shower in a sprinkler watering the grass in the front yard of a house. She had been covered in blood and wanted to cleanup so she wouldn't be tracking it in when she got home. During her shower, a car had slowed down and shined a bright light on her, but when she had turned around to face them, they had shut the light off and sped away. Cop car, her mind supplied the name when she saw the colored lights on top.
Afterward, Willow came across a lone female vampire wearing a black skirt and white blouse that looked as if they would fit her. So now she had new clothes and more pretties - which made her happy - as she walked up to the side door of the fertilizer plant. The smell that surrounded the building made Willow crinkle her small human nose. The odor of decay was very intense.
Her senses told her there were demons inside, and when she knocked on the door, Willow could sense a demon coming closer. Then a small window slid open and an inhuman eye peeked out at her. In a breathy voice, the demon asked, "Who are you?"
"Willow."
The eye disappeared, and the window slid shut. She heard the sound of several locks being unlocked. When the door opened, Willow was surprised at the fresh air that wafted out, pushing away the nasty smell surrounding the building. After stepping into the dimly lit corridor, Willow turned to look at the demon as he shut the door and locked it behind her.
It stood just over her own height and was completely hairless. The head had two large and several smaller tentacles in place of a mouth - or hiding the mouth, if the demon had one. For ears, there were slits on either side of its head and no visible nose. The skin was heavily wrinkled and mottled with dark gray and tan markings. It was dressed in a charcoal colored, floor length robe.
Giving him a smile, Willow said brightly, "Hi!"
The demon blinked in apparent surprise before replying with slight bow of his head, "Hello." The demon started down the corridor. "Please follow me."
The demon led her to a metal balcony that overlooked a very large room that had others of his kind tending large vats of decaying animals. Taking a sniff, Willow was barely able to pick up the hint of rot at all. The demon must have seen her action, for he went on to explain. "We inject the carcasses with a digestive enzyme that helps us to absorb the nutrients from the meat. In doing so, it also neutralizes the smell of decay." It gave a small shrug. "We may be carrion eaters, but we detest the smell. That's why we have a few carcasses hidden around the outside - to keep the humans away."
"Oh," Willow replied. Oddly enough, she understood the word enzyme, and like the other times she remembered something, she had the feeling she wasn't remembering all of it.
"Now, it is my understanding that you have something from which you wish for the flesh to be removed?"
"Yes," Willow replied as she handed him the trash bag.
The demon opened the bag and reached in with his hand, which boasted three stubby fingers and a thumb, all of which ended with long, sharp claws. After pulling the severed head out and ignoring the congealed blood covering it, the demon ran his two longer tentacles over it. The action gave Willow a glimpse of his oval toothless mouth.
Once the demon finished his examination, he turned to Willow and asked, "This is very fresh, and as if I understood correctly, you said you ate the rest?"
"Of the meat, I only ate heart and other inside meat. Joyce-mom makes me three meals a day so I not have to make my tummy big," Willow replied.
"Then there is quite a bit left of the carcass?"
"Yes."
With a show of disinterest the demon gazed down at the large severed head in his hands. "You wouldn't happen to remember where you left the carcass, would you?"
Willow's red, slitted eyes narrowed further as understanding came to her that the demon wanted the carcass. She asked suspiciously, "Why?"
"The flesh of demons adds a special spice to our meals and so is highly coveted. Sadly, the most prolific demon on the Hellmouth is the vampire, which is virtually useless to us. We have tried following the Slayer, for it is against our beliefs to hunt for ourselves. Alas, we are not stealthy creatures, and usually we end up on the wrong end of a stake. On top of that, for our enzymes to work properly, the carcass cannot be any older than six hours." The demon made a strange fluttering gesture with its tentacles, "I do apologize. I will gladly pay you for the carcass."
Willow tilted her head slightly before asking, "How much?"
"Five dollars per pound."
Willow stared down at the workers as she thought over the demon's offer; she had understood enough to know she would get money for the carcasses of her kills. Glancing back to meet the demon's inhuman eyes with her own, Willow asked, "You will clean skulls for me?"
The demon nodded. "Yes; though, we will subtract the weight of the individual skull we return. Will that be acceptable?"
"Yes." Willow replied happily. Then a thought came to her. "When I kill, do I come here to tell you?"
"You can, or you can call me on the phone." He pulled a small notebook and pen out of a hidden pocket of his robes. "Here; let me give you my phone number. You can reach me or my spawn partner. By the way, my name is Re'qwik, and my spawn partner is Po'cek."
"OK," Willow replied. She would have to ask Joyce-mom how to use the phone. For some reason, she didn't want the demon to know she didn't know how to.
She then told Re'qwik where to find the demon she had killed by describing in great detail the surrounding grave markers and mausoleums. Willow was able to do this because she had learned to memorize her territory in Hell to such an extent that, the next time she passed through, Willow would be able to detect any differences in the landscape.
After Re'qwik told her that she could pick up the skull and her money in two days, Willow left. On the way home, she decided that she should have enough time to hit one more cemetery. After stashing her bag and clothes, she did just that.
All she could find was one lone male vampire coming out of his grave, and he didn't have anything on him.
When Willow finished feeding, she stood up - only to have a crossbow bolt punch through her back, piercing her heart. Willow let out a startle gasp as her legs collapsed. She was dead before she hit ground.
The song "Mr. Killjoy" is by Lordi.
Weathered
I lie awake on a long, dark night
I can't seem to tame my mind
Slings and arrows are killing me inside
Maybe I can't accept the life that's mine
No, maybe I can't accept the life that's mine
Simple living is my desperate cry
Been trading love with indifference
yeah it suits me just fine
I try to hold on but I'm calloused to the bone
Maybe that's why I feel alone yeah...
Maybe that's why I feel so alone…
Even before the demon's body had hit the ground, Kendra was moving. She darted quickly but quietly between the tombstones toward her target. Once there, she ripped the crossbow bolt out of the demon's back, her Slayer strength allowing her to remove the barbed head easily, causing even more damage to the surrounding tissue.
Mr. Zabuto, her Watcher, was very adamant about waste.
After dropping the bloody bolt beside the demoness' body, Kendra verified the identity of her target. Flipping the demoness over (thereby hiding the emerging sparkles as they began healing Willow's mortal wound) she made sure that it fit the description she had gained from the female vampire. Ascertaining that it was, in fact, the demoness that the vampire had claimed rose from the Hellmouth, Kendra moved on to her next problem - disposing of the body.
One of the rules Mr. Zabuto had drilled into her was that you did not leave your kills lying around for any common person to stumble across. Spying the exit hole from which the male vampire had dug his way out of the grave provided Kendra the perfect solution. It was quick and simple for her to stuff the corpse head first down the hole and then trample the dirt flat. Once done, she picked up the crossbow bolt and put it back in the quiver after wiping it clean on the grass. Kendra then hurried back to report to her watcher of her success.
Cruise Ship in the Mediterranean…
Buffy made her way slowly down the ship's corridor thinking. She had just left from speaking with her fath… speaking with Hank about when she would be able to go back home. Buffy had told him a heavily edited version about Willow being back from the dead. It was pure luck that the Scoobies had used the story about wild animals dragging the red head off.
Buffy's story to Hank was that Willow had somehow survived but had either suffered brain damage or was suffering from amnesia. Hank hadn't really seemed too upset with her going - which didn't surprise Buffy in the least. Something she had left out during the phone conversation with her mom was that this wasn't a simple vacation for Hank and his fiancé. Actually, there were two things she hadn't told her mom. Not only had the trip been paid for by the company Hank worked for, it was also some kind of company get together for all of the higher mucky-mucks from the company's global offices.
For Buffy, the cruise had started going downhill when, on their way to the first of many cocktail parties, Daddy Dearest had quietly explained that this would be a golden opportunity for her to meet some very influential bachelors, and if she wanted to have little fun… well he felt she was old enough.
For a moment, Buffy hadn't quite understood the last comment. Then it dawned on her.
Hank was pimping her.
Buffy didn't know whether to punch him or cry; instead of doing either, she went to the party in a daze. The rest of the evening passed in a blur. She vaguely remembered dancing with several different men that her father had introduced her to - both old and young. The one thing they all had in common was that they looked at her like she was a piece of meat.
Buffy had begged off on the next party saying that she didn't feel well. By the time of the third party, though, Buffy was mad. No…she was furious, and with a little help from her Slayer strength, Buffy made sure NO ONE wanted to dance with her. After the fourth so-called gentlemen fell hard while dancing with her, no one wanted to dance with her.
To say Hank was upset would have been an understatement; Buffy could tell he knew she'd purposely messed up the dancing. But he couldn't figure out how, and that led to one hell of a yelling match in his cabin. As she left the room, her Slayer hearing picked up the whispered comment Hank's fiancé made to him.
"I don't know why you're wasting your time on her; it's not like she's really your daughter."
Buffy spent the next several days locked in her own cabin in a deep depression. Between losing Willow and this new information, Buffy simply shut down. She spent almost the entire time in bed, either sleeping or staring at the ceiling. At the end of the second day, the dam finally broke on her emotions. She cried. Huge, gut-wrenching sobs tore through her as she let the pain and heartache out.
She cried for the loss of her innocence due to being Chosen…
She cried in humiliation, anger, and hurt at the actions of the man she'd thought was her father…
She cried for the death of her best friend and for the shame she bore because she knew Willow's death was her fault.
She was to blame because, instead of listening to everyone's advice and accepting their help, Buffy had let the fear and despair guide her actions. She had chosen not to protect her friends and let the Master kill her, simply because she had grown so weary of her life as the Slayer.
She was tired of having to go out every night to slay. Tired of seeing the disappointment in her mother's eyes due to yet another poor grade or from the numerous complaints from Principal Snyder. Secretly, Buffy felt a sense of relief on hearing that she was prophesied to die. That was the real reason she had let the Anointed One lead her to the Master - and in doing so had caused the death of her best friend.
Her wallowing was cut short the following day when Hank sent a crewman to tell her that she needed to call home.
When the ship's corridor became blurry, Buffy quickly wiped the tears from her eyes, thankful that the hallway was empty of any witnesses. Even after two days of crying, Buffy still found herself breaking down out of the blue.
God, she wished Giles was here; she really needed someone to talk to.
Suddenly, the smell of wood polish and scented candles caught her attention, and, glancing up, Buffy found herself outside the entrance to a small chapel. After a moment's hesitation, she entered.
Even without her slayer senses, Buffy would have been able to tell there was no one around. There was a sense of stillness in the air that left no doubt that she was alone.
She sat in the third pew from the front, feeling too self conscious to sit in the front row itself. After nervously smoothing out her sundress, Buffy looked up at the large cross hanging on the wall. At first glance, it seemed rather plain, and yet, as she let her eyes wander across it, she began to pick up hidden details.
The weathered and discolored wood gave the impression of age with; it even had slight nicks marring its surface. Yet, instead of diminishing the presence of the cross, the imperfections lent a sense of enduring timelessness. Buffy felt herself slowly relaxing, the tension seemingly draining out of her body.
After letting the tranquil atmosphere of the chapel soothe her frazzled nerves, Buffy began to speak, never taking her eyes off the cross. "It's kind of strange, you know? I use your holy symbol all the time and yet I don't … don't really know if I believe in you anymore." For a moment, she glanced away, needing to think. Then Buffy turned her gaze back to the cross on the wall.
"We… I mean Mom, Hank, and I used to go to church all the time. Every Sunday, that is. But then Hank started to work weekends, going away on business trips or whatever, and Mom and I went by ourselves. At first, I missed him. Missed Hank. I didn't after a while, though, and I loved having that time with Mom." Buffy bowed her head, tears burning her eyes. "After I was Chosen, and things between Mom and Hank went downhill, we just stop going at all." Giving the wooden cross a sad smile, Buffy wiped her eyes and continued. "I guess you could say we lost faith in you – or…maybe in ourselves."
Buffy looked down and began tracing the backrest of the pew in front of her. "After the divorce and having to move to Sunnydale, I really didn't believe there was anything good in life anymore."
Buffy's face grew soft and a warm smile stole across her lips. "Then I met Willow. I can still remember what she was wearing. She had on the most God…" Buffy glanced up at the cross with an 'oops' expression on her face then return her attention to the wood in front her. "…gosh awful green plaid dress I've ever seen over a white blouse. Her white hose really showed off her legs. To this day, I'm not sure why she had a sweater tied around her waist."
Buffy looked up at the cross with a hint of apprehension in her eyes. Licking suddenly dry lips, she continued in a slightly breathless voice. "That was the moment I fell in love with her. Surprised?" Buffy asked the cross. "So was I. I mean, I'd only liked boys." Buffy looked down at her fingers. "Though, I did share a few kisses with one of my girlfriends. It was practice, I thought."
"But when I saw Willow, something just clicked and…" Buffy thought back to the look on Willow's face when she'd glanced back while walking away from Cordelia and Buffy. "I think she might have felt something, too. I was too scared. Too… unsure of myself at the time - and let's not forget me being the Slayer, either."
Buffy suddenly looked up to face the cross. "She was so innocent and naive, yet she had… no, she HAS such an inner strength that it takes my breath away. She always seems to know what to say to make things brighter, no matter how bleak."
Buffy's feature grew grimmer. "I felt like if I told her how I felt, I would somehow sully her. Maybe I was afraid of being rejected and what that would do to our friendship. Long story short, I stayed quiet and let myself get swept off my feet by Angel. He wasn't innocent; he was a killer like me, a part of the darkness that I live in now because of being the Slayer. He was… safe."
Buffy grimaced before continuing. "I was so sure of myself. I convinced myself that I had made the right choice. Then…" Her voice filled with loathing. "Then she died because I gave up."
Standing suddenly and grasping the back of the pew in front of her, Buffy leaned forward to gaze at the cross with eyes filled with misery and anger. "I got to watch her die… no… I got to watch her get dragged to Hell." Tears began to cascade down her cheeks as Buffy began to sob. Holding one hand out to the memory of Willow, Buffy whispered, "She reached for me, her eyes begging me to save her." Buffy let her hand drop to rest beside its mate on the back of the pew, "But I wasn't fast enough, I wasn't…"
The groaning of the wood under hands caused Buffy to jerk them away from the pew. Looking down, she saw that she had left finger impressions in the pew's wooden surface.
Wiping her eyes with the back of her shaking hands, Buffy peered at the cross and said, "Willow's back now, and, thanks to me, she's suffered from her stay in Hell."
Buffy stepped into the aisle running down the middle of the small chapel and took a deep breath. Squaring her shoulders, her eyes hardened with determination. The hurt young Buffy was gone, and the Slayer stood in her place. "I lost my faith in you, and in myself - but not in Willow. This time, I'll be there for her; I won't let her down again."
Buffy stared silently at the weathered cross, waiting for something. A sign, maybe. Nothing happened, and she abruptly turned away, disappointed. Buffy quietly left the chapel, passing two crewmen on the way out.
The crewmen gave each other a puzzled look, then, with a shrug, they entered the small lounge to finish hanging the decorations for a kid's tenth birthday party.
The song "Weathered" is by Creed.
Memories
All of my memories keep you near.
In silent moments,
Imagine you'd be here.
All of my memories keep you near,
In silent whispers, silent tears
Made me promise I'd try,
To find my way back in this life.
Hope there is a way,
To give me a sign you're okay.
Reminds me again it's worth it all,
So I can go home…
With a gasp, Willow came back to life - as she had done hundreds of times in her past. Needless to say, Willow was rather blasé about the whole affair by now. The first thing she did was sink all her claws into the soil surrounding her, using the 'tremorsense' that the claws granted her for movement nearby.
Nothing.
That wasn't the only thing Willow was doing. Looking around (her demonic eyesight easily piercing the absolute darkness of the grave), Willow saw that, while her body was scrunched up in the vampire's exit tunnel, her head actually was hanging through the hole in the coffin's top.
With a slight grunt of effort, Willow wiggled her way into the coffin itself, her body limber enough to allow her to turn around in the coffin's interior. Being buried alive didn't faze her in the least; many times she'd awoken buried under a pile of rocks, where her remains had been hidden by one of the smaller demons like a Nibble.
It was relatively simple for her to push through the foot of dirt that blocked the exit to the outside. Once free from the hole - and after giving herself a good shake to rid herself of as much of the dirt she could - Willow crouched down to once again sink her claws into the ground. At the same time, her hunter face came out. Opening her muzzle slightly, Willow inhaled through both her nose and mouth, tasting the air for the scent of what had hunted her.
The scent of her blood came to her first, but it mixed with another scent… human/female/pure. Willow really didn't understand the meaning of the last, but during her walks with Joyce-mom, Willow had noticed something particular about how the humans they passed had smelled. Though each human had their own unique scent, some had a secondary smell about them. For Willow, the odor was indescribable; the closest identifier she could apply to it was how the rain had smelt to her - clean and pure.
Taking another deep but slow breath, Willow picked up the slight blood smell of vampires and vampire dust intermixed with her killer's scent. Pulling her claws out of the ground, Willow began to lope silently through the tombstones, following the scent of her stalker. Following the instinct she had developed in Hell: revenge.
The trail led her out of the cemetery and, luckily for Willow, the human female went down the alleys instead of the sidewalks. Willow moved at a steady pace, her flesh and hair shifting to blend with the shadows. She had traversed eight blocks, the scent getting stronger, when Sunnydale's large clock tower's bell began ringing. Stopping with a frown on her muzzle, Willow counted the number of rings… twelve. With a quiet huff of disappointment, Willow turned away from her hunt. It was time to go home.
The Branson's Ranch in New Mexico…
Lost in thought, Xander walked quietly, his hands buried in the pockets of a light jacket he was wearing to ward off the evening chill. He strode beside the wooden fence he had earlier that day helped to put up. He was willing to admit he enjoyed the hard physical labor this past week. The ranch owner had decided to replace several barns and miles of fencing. For Xander, the hard work helped him release the anger that seemed to always simmer in the back of his mind.
Anger at Buffy for not listening and going off alone to face the Master.
Anger at Angel for having to be freaking forced at cross point to go and help Buffy.
Anger at himself for not being there for Willow when she had needed him the most.
He had a lot of anger, he admitted to himself.
Xander had surprised himself. At the end of a long, twelve-hour workday, he hadn't felt as wiped out like he'd thought he would. Xander chalked it up to the past nine months helping Buffy in her slayer duties. Xander's lips turned up in a slightly deprecating smile. OK, so mainly there was a lot of running involved on his part – and not so much helping.
Then a twinge from one of his hands caused the smile to fade away. Pulling both hands out of his jacket pockets, he stopped to hold them up, looking at them in the glow cast by a nearby outdoor light. The skin on his knuckles was bruised and split, with blood seeping slightly from one of the reopened cuts.
With a slight grimace, he closed both hands tightly, welcoming the pain from his actions. He'd been emotionally numb since arriving here. That had changed earlier this evening. Jamming his hands back into the jacket pockets, Xander thought about what had happen while he began walking once again.
There was a local bar and grill that all of the ranch hands from the surrounding area went to. It was like a country western version of the Bronze, just a bit rowdier.
The owner of the ranch Xander was working on had a policy of giving everyone Sunday morning off to either go to church or to sleep in. Xander had already decided on the latter. The past week he'd kept pretty much to himself so he was rather surprised when some of the older ranch hands had invited (more like shanghaied) him along to the bar for the Saturday night gathering. It seemed as if he had impressed them with all of his hard work without voicing one complaint.
Even with him being underage, they had offered to get him a beer. It was a rather laid back place, as far as the laws went. He had settled for a Coke, instead. It wasn't too much later that the guys that he was with were out on the dance floor with some lady friends. Xander sat in the shadows, nursing his drink while studying the images reflected in the large mirror running the length of the bar. He made sure everyone on the dance floor had a reflection. He might be out of Sunnydale, but it still paid to play it safe.
Motion near the entrance drew his eye, and he watched the mirror as it showed three teenage girls coming in. The first two he could tell fit right in and must have been known to the patrons from the greetings they received. It was the third that made him draw in a sharp, startled breath.
Willow.
Then, with a stab of grief, he saw it wasn't his late friend. Oh she had red hair and even the same build. But the face was completely different. She wore a light blue blouse and denim skirt; from where he sat, he couldn't tell what she had on her feet. He could tell that she was very ill at ease. Her uneasiness turned to outright fear when her two friends left to meet up with a couple of rough looking guys, leaving her standing alone near the entrance. Her posture screamed victim.
It wasn't a minute later that an arm snaked out from a figure sitting partly in the shadows at a small table littered with several empty bottles to grab and drag the girl onto his lap. Though he couldn't hear it, Xander saw how her lips moved as she let out a squeak of dismay.
When the guy started trying to kiss her, his one free hand roamed up and down her thigh. Xander suddenly found himself striding across the dance floor toward them. It seemed no one else either saw or cared what was happening.
"Hey! Paws off the girl. I think she prefers to date within her own species." Xander's voice cut through the din from the music, causing heads to turn toward the commotion.
Xander didn't know who was the most shocked at what he had said - himself or the girl. At first, the guy simply stared at Xander. Then, with a cruel smirk, he shot his hand up under her skirt causing her to buck with a yell. Before Xander could take a step toward them, the man pushed the girl off his lap hard enough to cause her to stumble and begin to fall.
Xander darted forward, catching her before she hit the floor. She shot him a look of gratitude as he helped her to her feet. Turning around, Xander found himself facing a very large and very broad chest.
He slowly looked up and up…and up.
"I want my Buffy!" his mind gibbered as he took in just what the shadows had hidden. The man was big - very, very big - and Xander was pretty sure he wasn't a demon.
He was so screwed.
The behemoth bent down, sticking his ugly face close to Xander's, almost causing him to gag at the whisky-laden breath that blew in his face as the giant began speaking. "Listen, moron, I don't know, and I don't care, if that's your girl or not. But I'm telling you…" Here the behemoth's lips twisted into a sneer filled with malice. "When I'm done beating you down, I'm taking her outside to show her what a real man feels like. Shit, kid, I bet she's a real screamer." And with that, he threw a punch at Xander.
At that moment, as Xander watched a fist that was seemingly the size of his head fly toward his face, Xander had an epiphany.
He wasn't going to let this girl down.
This was going to hurt… a lot.
And the most important thing: humans moved a hell of a lot slower than the vampires he'd been fighting.
Oh, there was one other thing. He was so God damned angry!
It took two guys to pull him off his attacker. Xander faintly remembered begging one of the waitresses to make sure the girl got home safely. It must have worked because as they (they being him and his fellow ranch hands) were leaving the parking lot, Xander saw the girl being escorted to a car in the employees' parking by the waitress that he had talk to. The red head had actually waved goodbye to him - which he returned; though, he doubted she would be able to see it.
Xander at first figured he was in some kind of trouble, but instead, it seemed that he had gotten elevated to something remarkably similar to sainthood, judging by how the other ranch hands were going on about him talking down the big guy.
After they got back to the ranch, Xander had split off from them to head for the bunkhouse that he shared with the other summer help. But by the time he got to the door, Xander knew he was too jittery to sleep. He turned to take a walk around the property.
That was how he had ended up walking through the darkness, something he wouldn't dare do back home; even out here, though, he still carried several stakes and a cross. With a rueful smile, Xander thought sadly, "Wouldn't Willow have been surprised to hear that I got in a bar fight."
Summers' residence, Sunnydale…
Willow made her way quietly up the steps after letting herself in with the key Joyce-mom had given her. After setting her shoulder-bag on the small table in the hallway, Willow silently entered Joyce-mom's bedroom. The red head was surprised to find Joyce-mom staring up at the ceiling, awake.
"Joyce-mom?" Willow called out.
Joyce let out a mild shriek in shock; she hadn't even heard Willow entering her room. Plus, she was rather on edge after laying in bed worrying about the Willow.
"Sorry!" Willow said nervously; she hadn't meant to scare Joyce-mom!
Getting her breathing under control, Joyce looked over to see two glowing red eyes looking back at her from the darkened doorway. Meeting the demonic eyes without fear, Joyce couldn't help giving thanks Willow hadn't tapped on her bedroom window. Ever since watching the movie The Amityville Horror, Joyce had nightmares about red eyes outside of the window.
"Oh, honey, it's alright. Next time, turn on the hallway light so I know someone is out there, OK?" Joyce said as she sat up in bed and reached for the small reading lamp on the nightstand.
"OK," came Willow's reply from the darkness - which was banished when Joyce switched on the reading lamp.
"Willow, what happened to you?" Joyce cried at the red head's appearance. Streaks of dirt covered Willow from head to toe. Also, Joyce noticed that Willow had changed outfits and the new clothes didn't appear as dirty as the rest of her. Hurriedly, Joyce got out of the bed.
She watched as Willow looked down at herself and actually blushed. "I… got put in vampire grave, had to dig me out."
Distracted by what Willow had said, Joyce didn't attempt to correct the young woman's grammar. "How did you get trapped in a grave?" Joyce asked while looking Willow over for any apparent injuries. Even knowing about the girl's healing abilities; the older woman couldn't stop from looking for her own peace of mind.
"Got hit in back and died. Woke up in hole the vampire dig to get out of coffin," Willow replied matter of factly while Joyce-mom fussed around her, much to Willow's enjoyment.
Turning Willow to face her, Joyce exclaimed, "You died!"
With an abashed look on Willow went on to say, "Yes, big pain in back and died." She then gave Joyce a bright smile. "But I got better!"
"I… I see," Joyce replied dazedly. "Here, honey, let's take your shirt off so I can look at your back, OK?"
"OK." Willow casually unbuttoned the blouse and took it off as she turned presented her bare back to Joyce.
Joyce let out a small gasp of dismay on seeing the smear of dirt-encrusted blood on Willow's back. "Oh, honey, it looks like you've been bleeding," Joyce said softly. She started to gently probe the flesh, looking for a scabbed over wound.
Willow let her head hang down as she enjoyed Joyce-mom pushing on her back; it felt good; though, she wished the human woman would push harder.
"Well, it looks like you're all healed up," Joyce said once she'd satisfied herself that Willow's healing had taken care of her injuries.
"Yes, was heal when I woke up," Willow sad languidly. Joyce-mom's touches were making her sleepy.
Joyce looked over Willow's shoulder. "Why didn't you say something before, honey?"
Willow looked at her from the corner of one glowing red eye and said shyly, "Pushing felt good."
Raising an eyebrow, Joyce smiled. "I thought you felt a little tight; tell me if this feels better." Ignoring the dirty skin, Joyce began to lightly knead Willow's shoulders -with immediate results.
Groaning in pleasure, Willow felt her legs almost give out from under her, causing her to stagger in place. Laughing, Joyce-mom asked if she was alright, and Willow could only mumble a garbled, "Yeah."
After about five minutes, Joyce had to call it quits. Willow's shoulders felt rock hard, and Joyce's fingers were beginning to hurt. "Sorry, honey," Joyce said on hearing the mumbled protest. "My fingers are worn out, but I've got an idea I think you will like." Joyce took Willow's hand in hers and led the topless red head into the bathroom.
"Let me show you something," Joyce said as she pulled back the shower curtain. She turned on the shower after taking the shower head off of its bracket. "Now, Willow, watch what I do." Joyce pointed the stream of water from the shower head into the bathtub. She then showed Willow how to adjust the nozzle so she could choose what kind of spray came out. The last one was the one Joyce thought the girl would appreciate the most, the pulsating massage setting.
Taking hold of Willow's wrist, Joyce put the red head's palm in line with the pulsating spray. "Ohhh," Willow exclaimed in pleasure, already guessing its usage on her back.
Turning the water off and putting the shower head back in its cradle, Joyce said to Willow, "Tell you what…why don't you go ahead and take your shower, and I'll reheat what we had for dinner. Does that sound good?"
"Yes!" Willow happily replied as she dropped her skirt to pool around her feet.
Later…
Willow was just finishing up her shower and was in the process of running the massaging spray up one leg with the idea to switch over to the other leg. The massage setting felt so wonderful. Never, in all of her time in Hell, had Willow felt such an agreeable sensation. Once she reached the top of her leg, Willow moved the pulsating stream of water toward the other leg.
She never made it.
With a gasp, Willow fell against the side of the shower stall as the water pounded a very pleasurable spot between her legs. Sliding partly down the shower wall, the red head opened her legs a little more, exposing the sensitive flesh to the water's ministrations.
"This feels sooo good!" Willow thought dazedly. When she felt the points on her breasts get hard (nipples her mind whispered), she followed some long forgotten memory and fondled one breast with her free hand.
Willow's whole body began to quiver and shake; though, the hand with the showerhead remained rock steady. With her pupils dilated to their fullest, Willow threw her head back to…
Joyce was in the process of setting the reheated leftovers on the kitchen table when a long drawn out wail shattered the late night quiet. Dropping the skillet with a 'bang', Joyce rushed from the kitchen, "Willow!"
The song "Memories" is by Within Temptation.
Physical Fascination...
Talk to me! Why don't you talk to me?
C'mon and use your body language
and have yourself a good time.
My-my- my-my-my-my-my.
And radiate your sweet temptation.
All succumb to the physical fascination,
all surrender to the physical fascination.
Yea yea yea yea...
Joyce glanced over from the driver side of her SUV at Willow, who was quietly watching the scenery passing outside the passenger side window. It had taken a bit of talking to get Willow to accept being buckled in and that sitting on her butt instead of crouching like she normally did. Even then, Willow had both legs drawn up against her chest with her arms wrapped around them.
Turning back to face the road, Joyce sighed tiredly. She had hoped to leave for the Sunnydale Mall a lot earlier then this. But, thanks to what had happened last night, Joyce had ended up sleeping later then she had originally planned.
Thinking about last night made the older woman shake her head in bemusement. On hearing Willow cry out, Joyce had rushed upstairs with the thought of something horrible happening to Willow.
"Boy, wasn't I wrong!" Joyce thought with slight a smile.
What she had found was a very wet and dazed Willow lying in a crumpled heap against the shower wall. Joyce had to quickly turn off the scalding water since the showerhead now lay crushed in one of Willow's hand. Willow, though, didn't seem bothered by the hot water. Much to Joyce's embarrassment judging by the look on Willows face, it wasn't falling in the shower that caused her to let out such a cry.
Once Willow became aware of Joyce's presence, she acted body conscious for the first time since returning. She tried to cover her breast and genitals and her head and shoulders flushed a deep red. To give Willow a little privacy, Joyce got a large bath towel and placed it around her while telling her not to worry about the broken shower head. Willow looked dismayed once she had noticed the mangle remains in her hand.
Joyce let Willow dry herself off while she replaced the busted shower head with the generic one that had come with the house. By the time Willow was done drying herself, she didn't appear to be suffering from her earlier bout of shyness; though, Joyce could tell that the red head did seem nervous about what had happened. Joyce decided then and there that it was time for the Talk.
She led Willow to the couch downstairs and, after getting a glass of ice water for Willow and a small glass of wine for herself, began explaining the birds and bees to a five hundred year old human/demon virgin.
She had thought talking to Buffy was hard!
During the talk, Joyce actually caught glimpses of the old Willow shining through. Sometimes Willow would hide her face behind her hands and other times she would stammer a question. Even though the times were few and far between, it had given Joyce renewed hope in Willow's recovery of her lost memories.
It was during the birds and the bee's part that Joyce learned of the chilling facts about the demons' biology in Hell. It seemed that, at times, a female demon would have a very subtle smell about her (Willow had describe it as a very quiet scent), and when a male demon got close he would start purring. If the female demon started purring back then they would circle one another until the female turned her back and bent over. At that point, the male would run up and poke the female many times really fast, and after that he would run away.
Joyce had to bite her tongue to prevent herself telling Willow that human males pretty much did the same thing.
She had hesitantly asked Willow if she had any boy demons purr at her.
With an embarrassed shrug, Willow had replied, "Yes," and that she would purr back at them trying to get them to relax so she could hunt them more easily. However, when she wouldn't turn around for them, they tried to poke her anyway. She stopped doing that, and whenever she started feeling odd, Willow would simply stay in her cave and let the centipedes handle any boy demons that came around.
Joyce was happy to find out that though the boy demons had tried to poke Willow, none of them were able to do so. At least on top of every other horrific thing that Willow had suffered in Hell, being raped wasn't one of them.
Once Joyce finished with the birds and the bees part, she move on to explain what had happened in the shower to Willow. For the life of her, though, Joyce couldn't say the word masturbation. Instead, she called it having a happy moment. After getting over her embarrassment, Willow became very intrigued at what Joyce was describing to her.
Willow had bashfully told Joyce that she had never felt anything like that in Hell; it had made her feel really, really good!
Even though Willow came across as childlike in her mentality most of the time, her body was very grown up, and Joyce wanted to give Willow an understanding about what her body was feeling. So she found herself very awkwardly describing to Willow several safe ways to have a happy moment.
Needless to say, Willow paid diligent attention to Joyce's instructions.
The last thing Joyce had told Willow was that she could only have a happy moment in the shower or in her own room. Joyce wanted to avoid any more embarrassing circumstances.
Willow immediately said she was going to her room. After a pause, Joyce told her that when she was… done that Willow had to go to bed. With Willow scurrying up the drop-down ladder to the attic, Joyce got herself back to bed for some much needed sleep.
Fifteen minutes and three wails later, Joyce tiredly decided that another happy rule was going to be about being quiet.
Sunnydale Mall…
For Willow, being at the mall brought back dim memories of walking the same corridors with Buffy and Xander. There were so many different sights and sounds that Willow, at times, felt a bit overwhelmed. Following Joyce-mom's orders, when it got too much Willow let Joyce-mom know. Joyce-mom would then either sit them down on a bench within the mall or go outside to walk around the mall itself.
The fun part was the shopping; Joyce-mom let her pick quite a few new outfits to wear - and even a couple of nightshirts. Willow still didn't quite understand why she had to wear clothes when she was asleep, but Joyce-mom was adamant that she had to wear something when she slept with her. Since Willow found Joyce-mom's nightgowns a bit long and confining, they settled on several pairs of large nightshirts. One had brightly colored moons and stars on it and another large owl sitting on a snow cover tree branch. Joyce-mom even made Willow buy some bras and panties. They seemed like a waste of money to Willow. She was not going to wear such constrictive clothing!
Joyce-mom also had her buy a couple more pairs of sandals and some small pieces of furniture for her room. It made Willow very proud that she was able to use her own money, which Joyce-mom grudgingly allowed her to do. Earlier that day, when Willow asked Joyce-mom to price the new pretties she had gotten the night before, Willow's eagerness must have made Joyce-mom suspicious.
She had asked Willow some very pointed questions, and Willow could tell that Joyce-mom wasn't too pleased with her answers. After some talking (Willow left out the fight in the bar), Willow convinced Joyce-mom that the bar patrons were very impressed with her hunting ability - which was true! Joyce-mom had finally agreed to let Willow handle her own business transactions.
That statement made Willow feel very grownup!
After that was settled, Joyce-mom showed Willow how to make a phone call. They called the art gallery and Joyce-mom let Willow leave a message on the answering machine. Buffy's mother also gave Willow a small book with phone numbers in it. The book now rested in its very own pouch in Willow's shoulder bag.
When they were done shopping, Joyce-mom asked Willow if she would like to try the pizza that they sold here. She told Willow that she, Buffy, and Xander always went to the mall's pizza place when they came here.
Willow said yes, even though she only vaguely remembered what a pizza was.
With supper decided, they took their packages out to the SUV before going to the plaza surrounded by small restaurants. Knowing that Willow probably wouldn't like standing in line, Joyce-mom had her sit down at a table that was a little out of the way. Willow spent her time watching all of the humans as they ate and talked after Joyce-mom left to get the pizza,. From the tingles she was getting, Willow could tell there were some demons around, too.
After some time had gone by, Willow began to grow nervous when Joyce-mom didn't return. Her agitation grew to outright fear when the mall's swirling air currents brought a particular set of scents to her sensitive nostrils.
The first scent to catch her attention was that of the female hunter that had killed Willow the night before. The second scent mixed with the first and brought to Willow's mind an image of male/old/tea/musty-paper. Surprisingly enough, though, it wasn't these two smells that captured Willow's attention completely. No… it was the third scent the other two overlapped but did nothing to hide.
It was a familiar scent.
It was Joyce-mom - and she was very afraid.
Earlier at the mall…
Kendra felt like she was walking on air. She had killed one of her first true demons and subsequently made her Watcher, Mr. Zabuto, very proud of her. Last night, when she reported her success, Mr. Zabuto had whipped up a huge helping of her favorite meal of tripe and beans. Today, he had announced they were going to the mall, and he would allow her to pick out several new shirts and pants, plus a new pair of boots, too.
For Kendra, just the thought of having more than a handful of changes of clothing was mind blowing. Not that she was complaining…no! From the very first, she had been taught that the Slayer was the weapon of the Council. A powerful weapon yes… but still only a weapon. Since a weapon's only purpose was to kill, a Slayer only needed to live a spartan life, so not to become distracted from her Chosen Duty.
It was the duty of the Slayer's Watcher to mold and then wield her like a Gentleman of old. Thus, a Watcher's status should reflect the hard work, dedication, and sacrifice of he and his ancestors had undergone in following their own sacred duty. Mr. Zabuto's fine clothes and antique furniture were truly deserved, thought Kendra.
They had just left the shoe store with Kendra's pair of new boots on her feet when her world came crashing down around her. Looking down the wide corridor, Kendra's eyes were inexplicably drawn to a young woman in a yellow dress and a large hat. What made her catch her breath in surprise were the black markings visible on the red head's bare shoulder. They were exactly the same as the one on the demon from last night.
Narrowing her eyes, Kendra easily recognized the face hidden behind the mirrored shades and under the hat. With a sinking feeling, she turned to her Watcher and told him what she had seen.
The disappointment in Mr. Zabuto's face made her feel as if she had staked herself in the heart. After making sure Kendra wasn't wrong this time, her Watcher decided that, for now, they would simply observe the demon to see what it was up to.
It became immediately apparent that the older blonde woman with the demon was in control. Mr. Zabuto and Kendra watched as the demon wandered off a little ways, only to scurry back at a single word from the woman. The blonde even had the demon carry her shopping bags and a few small pieces of furniture out to her vehicle.
At one point, after seeing the older woman having a rather lengthy conversation with a young couple, Mr. Zabuto told Kendra to wait and went up to speak with them. She quietly watched him out of the corner of her eye, keeping most of her attention on the demon. Kendra had always been fascinated by how he could go from his normally stern mannerism to very friendly and charming.
He talked with the couple for several minutes and then, after shaking the man's hand and bestowing a slight kiss on the woman's knuckles, turned to make his way back to her. On seeing the look on her Watcher's face, Kendra found herself taking a step back. Mr. Zabuto wore a look of such absolute rage that she had never seen before. Disappointment and mild approval were the most common expression - never such a chilling countenance as he bore now.
Kendra waited patiently for him to calm himself down and, after several minutes of playing with his cufflinks and straightening his tie, he was finally able to tell her what he had found out.
He turned toward her with his expression very grave and his eyes burning with a chilling passion. "Kendra, my dear, I'm truly am sorry you have to be here to bear witness to such a travesty. I have found out that the woman who is controlling - and I would hazard a guess is also behind the summoning of the demon - is no other than Joyce Summers. She is the mother to Buffy Summers, the Slayer who came before you. Now we know how an untrained Slayer could possibly have done the things her Watcher Rupert reported. Her mother must have been in the background, using demons to help her daughter, and in doing so, she has dishonored both her daughter and the Slayer line itself."
Kendra felt physically ill; she couldn't even begin to comprehend such a heinous act. In a slightly dazed voice, she asked, "But why would she do such a… a terrible tin'?"
He gave a rueful shake of his head before answering her. "I really can't say. A misguided mother's love, perchance? Though the most likely motive is something far more sinister. Whatever it is, we will leave it up to the Council to ascertain; our task is to capture Joyce Summers so we can hand her over to the Council for trial and execution."
Mr. Zabuto must have seen her shocked expression, for he gave her a solemn smile before going on. "I know, Kendra, a Slayer must never kill a human, and that is something you must always follow. But sometimes, the Council has to step in. Don't worry, however; her trial will be fair and her execution swift and painless. What she has done is a crime that the common courts cannot litigate, and so it falls to the Watcher's Council to step in and make sure justice is done."
Kendra gave him an equally solemn nod of understanding. "What do you want me to do, Sir?"
"For now, keep an eye on them. I need to run out to the car and retrieve a few items. After I return, we must find an opportune moment to separate the woman from the demon. We'll take Joyce Summers home and contact the Council to send a retrieval team."
"Sir, how will we keep her from callin' de demon to her?" Kendra asked respectively.
"One of the things I'm getting is a powerful sedative from my medical bag; it will keep her under so she won't be in any position to call for help. Now, keep a careful watch on them until I return." With that said, her Watcher turned and hurried off to his car.
The song "Physical Fascination" is by Roxette.
A Feast for the Vain...
Everyone is here
The feast can soon begin
Vanity we celebrate
My favorite of sins…
The first inkling Joyce got that she was in trouble, while waiting in the line at the pizza place, was when a well dress older man seemingly popped out of nowhere and put his arm around her waist and poked a coat-covered hand into her side. On feeling the hard metallic object pressing fairly painfully into her side, it wasn't very hard for Joyce to guess that a gun lay hidden under the coat.
"Please walk this way and do not say one word or your life will be forfeit," the stranger informed her in a chill, British-accented voice.
Joyce couldn't help trying to glance toward where she had left Willow. Her action resulted in the barrel of the gun jamming into her side hard enough to make her flinch in pain. "Eyes straight ahead!" the man snapped quietly.
With her heart hammering in her chest and beads of sweat beginning to trickle down her back, Joyce fearfully allowed the man to lead her to a nearby exit. She was so focused on her kidnapper Joyce jerked in surprise when a mocha-skinned teenager appeared beside her.
The only reaction the strange man gave to the girl's appearance, however, was to ask, "Does the demon remain unaware?"
"Yes, Sir," the girl respectively replied, her own accent indicating she was from the Jamaican islands.
The three of them casually made their way out to the parking lot. All the while, Joyce kept hoping for some kind of rescue.
Suddenly, the teenage girl darted ahead of them toward a very classy BMW. Once there, she opened the back door and climbed and in, the man with the gun told Joyce to get in behind her.
The stranger had just shut the door when Joyce felt a sharp prick in her arm; she had enough time to glance over to see the teenage girl holding an empty hypodermic needle in one hand before a deep lassitude settled over her. Joyce stopped worrying about anything after that.
Sunnydale Mall…
Grabbing her shoulder bag, Willow moved quickly, following Joyce-mom's scent. She had to force herself not to let her Hunter face come out because she didn't want to scare the humans around her - not out of any form of kindness. The simple fact was she didn't want the human fear-scent to overwhelm Joyce-mom's scent.
Willow did find it odd how people hurriedly moved out of her way, unlike when she and Joyce-mom had walked through the mall earlier. Letting go of such an irrelevant thought, Willow concentrated on the elusive trail. She moved through the parting throng of humans with her mouth partly open, sucking air in across her tongue and through her nose simultaneously.
The scent trail led her outside to the large parking lot. With fewer humans about to muck up the trail, Willow picked up her pace. Unfortunately, it ended in an empty parking space. Willow whined in frustration; she remembered from last night where she had left off following the scent of the one who killed her. She knew how to get back to that point from her home, but not from the mall. Then an idea came to her. Opening her shoulder bag, Willow pulled out the pouch with the little book of phone numbers.
Opening it, Willow easily found Jenny Calendar's number. After all, she only had five names and numbers listed…
Joyce-mom Home… 555-3847
Joyce-mom Gallery... 555-2123
Jenny Calendar… 555-9901
Re'qwik… 555-4882
911.
Quickly kicking the sandals off her feet, Willow ran back into the mall, ignoring the yells of shock from the people in the car that she leaped over after it had pulled in front of her. Willow was in a hurry, after all.
Willow lucked out; while she stood in front of a payphone, trying to figure out why it wasn't working, a person came up to use the one beside her. With the new-found knowledge, Willow soon found herself in contact with Jenny Calendar.
Later…
Once Willow recognized Jenny behind the wheel of the car that pulled up, she quickly got in and even remembered to buckle-up like Joyce-mom had told her to do earlier. As they left the parking lot, Jenny had Willow describe the cemetery that she had been killed in. Then Willow described where her killer's scent trail had led her.
By the time Jenny reached the area where Willow wanted to be dropped, the sun had fallen below the horizon. Leaving her shoulder bag, hat, and sun glassed in the car, Willow stepped out. She let her hunter face come out and was soon loping along, following the day-old trail, with Jenny coasting behind her in the car.
Willow didn't like how the headlights illuminated her but understood it was necessary for Jenny to see where Willow went. The red head had told Jenny that she needed to get Joyce-mom away while Willow herself went after the people who took her. Jenny said that she would take Joyce-mom to her own house and gave Willow directions to it. When Jenny told her to try not to hurt the kidnappers too much, the red head simply stared at the human female until she looked away.
For Willow, protecting Joyce-mom was what mattered… nothing else.
When a small breeze brought the mixed scents of Joyce-mom and the two who took her, Willow went from a lope to an all out run. Jenny found herself pressing the gas pedal more and more, barely keeping the running figure in the headlights. Glancing down, the brunette's eyes widened in shock at seeing the speedometer hovering around forty miles an hour.
Suddenly, Willow swerved off the street, silently charging across the front lawn of a house before throwing herself violently through a large picture window.
Inside the House…
Kendra stood quietly in the corner of the living room and kept an eye on the still heavily drugged Joyce Summers. Mr. Zabuto had left her tied to a chair, her mouth bound shut with tape. Kendra's Watcher was currently pacing back and forth, muttering angrily to himself and bemoaning the fact he had gotten yet another ticket for driving on the wrong side of the road. Also, he seemed to have come to the conclusion that there was some kind of conspiracy headed by Mrs. Summers to perhaps wrest control of the of the Slayer line from the very Council itself.
This line of reasoning did not surprise the mocha-skinned Slayer; her Watcher had always amazed her with his ability to come up with astonishing insights into a plot from just a few facts. There had been many nights they had stayed up late while he regaled her with the real reasons behind an historical event. Kendra had felt so proud that she had been gifted with such an intelligent Watcher and that he felt her worthy enough to share his acute understanding. Kendra never did have the heart to tell him he usually lost her early in his sharing of the facts behind of a particular conspiracy.
Earlier, when they had made it to the house that the Watcher's Council had rented for them and had taken care of Slayer Buffy's mother, Mr. Zabuto immediately placed a call to Mr. Travers. Unfortunately, the head of the Watcher's Council was currently in a closed meeting and would call back when it ended.
As the phone by the heavily curtained window began to ring, Kendra's eyes widened in shock as her slayer senses screamed a warning. The Jamaican Slayer had just enough time to get out, "Mr. Zabu…", when the window exploded inward with the entrance of the demon girl. With an oath, Mr. Zabuto threw himself away from the shards of flying glass.
Even before the demon landed, Kendra moved to intercept the hellish creature. The Slayer absently noticed that, while the demon still wore the yellow dress (which was becoming stained with blood from the numerous cuts from the broken window panes), that she had taken off her hat and sunglasses. The demon's attention immediately became focused on Slayer Buffy's mother, which didn't surprise Kendra since the woman bore the responsibility for summoning the demon.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Kendra soundly punched the demon girl in the face, staggering it, and then she followed up with a quick stab to the heart with her favorite stake, Mr. Pointy.
The red headed demon was able to avoid the stake with a surprisingly flexible twist of her upper body; she then retaliated with deadly swipes of her clawed hands.
A deadly flurry of blows, slashes, and stabs passed between the two. The Slayer could tell that she was stronger than the demoness and had superior martial arts training. But the demon girl was very fast and fought more animalistic; though, hints of combat training showed through at times.
"Get away from her!" her Watcher almost screamed in rage.
Taking several steps away from her battle, Kendra risked a quick look at Mr. Zabuto. He stood with his gun pointed at a dark hair woman who must have sneaked in and started to untie Mrs. Summers.
Kendra also noticed that the demon girl had stopped her attacks. She now stood absolutely still with her slitted, red eyes focused on Mr. Zabuto.
Grimacing with distaste, her Watcher said, his voice filled with disgust, "Let me guess, you're her apprentice, and both of you are responsible for the summoning of this demon from the Hellmouth. With you here I can now turn the two of you over to the Council for trial."
Jenny felt her eyes widen in shock at the statement. She shot a glance over to the dark skinned girl who had been fighting with Willow - and holding her own. When the computer teacher saw the stake in the girl's hand, it wasn't too hard to come to a terrifying conclusion. "She's a Slayer!" Jenny cried out in partial disbelief.
Jenny could see the confusion spreading across Willow's face as she shifted her attention back and forth between the Watcher and Slayer.
Sneering, the man who Jenny presumed was the Slayer's Watcher replied, "Yes, she was called after Ms. Summers's death, but…"
"Buffy's not dead!" Willow screamed out in denial.
Jenny, trying to keep Willow from completely freaking out, hurriedly said, "Buffy's alive." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that statement had captured Willow's attention. The situation was volatile enough with the gun-toting Watcher. Jenny continued talking for Willow's benefit, though. "I take it that Buffy drowned long enough for another Slayer to be called. What you don't unders…"
"Shut up!" The Watcher yelled. Jenny almost expected to see froth foaming at his mouth, judging by the enraged look in his eyes. "I don't know what kind of prevarication you are attempting here, young lady, but I will not stand idly by while the two of you try to carry out your nefarious scheme."
Willow glanced at Kendra, mouthing silently, "Nefarious?"
The Slayer mouth back equally quietly, "Evil."
"Ahh," Willow murmured. Then her face took on a look of affronted outrage as she softly exclaimed, "Hey!"
Keeping a wary eye on the now-shaking gun barrel, Jenny tried to reason with the high-strung Watcher. "I don't know what the Council told you, but Buffy is alive, thanks to some timely CPR. Why don't you call Giles? He…"
The phone chose that moment to begin ringing once again. With everything going on, no one had noticed it had stop ringing before.
The sound brought a cruel smile to Mr. Zabuto's face. The Watcher spoke as he began backing toward the phone. "So, Rupert is a part of this farce also. I have always thought they were wrong to have let him back into the Council after his dalliance with black magic. This contrivance goes back farther than I would have thought possible. Travers has always feared that there were those who had lost their way, and now, with this subterfuge revealed, he will have the backing to, as you Colonials say, clean house." Reaching behind him, he fumbled briefly before laying his hand on the ringing phone. He had one last thing to say before answering it. "And the first to be sent to the gallows will be the three of you!"
Willow had been trying to follow the odd conversation. Buffy had died, but CPR made her better, and the girl who smelled human - even though she had demon essences within her - was the new Slayer. The red head vaguely understood all of that. Maybe not understood exactly, but she accepted it as fact, for now. But the one statement that burned away the fog of confusion from her mind was that if the male answered the phone Jenny, Giles, and Joyce-mom were going to die.
That was unacceptable.
Willow took the most expedient approach to rectifying the situation. With a powerful kick from one leg, she sent a small table flying across the room to smash into the male who had just put the phone's handset to his ear. He went down without a sound, taking the phone with him. The gun fell from his suddenly limp hand.
Even before the table landed, Willow darted forward. She slashed with both sets of hand claws at the Slayer, scoring several deep cuts across the girl's stomach with one set. Her other hand was blocked by one of the Slayer's powerful arms.
Kendra, who was horrified at what she had let the demon do to her Watcher, retaliated with a vicious backhand that sent Willow spinning away - but only for a moment. The pale-skinned demoness was soon back, pressing her attack against the distracted Slayer.
Willow saw that Jenny had freed Joyce-mom; they were slowly making their way toward the front door. It worried the red head that Joyce-mom seemed to have a lot of trouble walking. Switching her focus back to the Slayer, Willow redoubled her attacks.
Moving inhumanly fast, the two of them danced a deadly ballet. Soon, the Slayer had a fine layer of sweat covering her skin, causing her shirt to mold itself to her flesh. Both of them were covered with multiple cuts and bruises.
At least, Kendra thought so until a small spark of colored light caught her attention. Kendra watched in growing horror as a deep laceration on the female demon's face, caused by Mr. Pointy's sharp tip, slowly closed itself as small arcs of energy danced across the torn flesh.
Her opponent must have seen her reaction and surmised the reason. She smirked at Kendra and said, "What? No sparkles to heal you?"
The red headed demon then darted to the side. For a moment, Kendra thought she was leaving. Instead of running away, though, the female demon grabbed a heavy wooden foot stool and tossed it toward where her Watcher lay upon the floor.
"NO!" Kendra screamed out in terror as threw herself at the seemingly deadly projectile, intent on trying her best to save Mr. Zabuto from any more harm. The Slayer had covered maybe a forth of the distance across the living room when she suddenly saw that the stool would safely miss her Watcher. Like a splash of ice water, chills ran up and down her spine. The stool was a trick - and she had fallen for it.
Kendra barely managed to turn her head when a fast-moving body slammed into her with painful brutality. A confusing array of claws and surprisingly large teeth snapped at Kendra's neck as the red head's face changed into a more demonic face with a naked, wolf-like snout. Soon, the Slayer found herself on her back, with the demon straddling her, fighting to keep the viscous fangs from her throat with both of her hands pressed against the base of the snout. Kendra slowly tried to get them into a position that would allow her to snap the female demon's neck.
For a moment, the mocha-skinned Slayer thought they were at an impasse. Kendra couldn't quite move her hands for fear of losing her grip, and the red head had the Slayer's thighs pinned to the floor. The demon also seemed too have sunk her finger claws into the wooden flooring in an attempt to give herself more leverage against Kendra.
Stalemate.
The female demon's finger claws lost their grip on the wooden floor and she suddenly reared back, breaking Kendra's hold on her snout and neck. The Slayer was in the process of pressing her hands against the demon's pale skin to push the demon off her when, with what seemed like a long practiced move, Kendra found her hands swept aside. With her hands out of the way, there wasn't anything for Kendra except watch in horror as a clawed hand punched itself into her abdomen, just shy of the base of her ribs.
Even as she let out a blood curling scream, Kendra reacted fast enough to grab hold of the intruding appendage with both hands. The taste of fresh blood in her mouth told the Jamaican Slayer that one or both of her lungs had been nicked. She didn't want to die. Whimpering in pain and the beginning of panic, Kendra started kicking her heels against the floor and rocking her body, trying desperately to knock the demon girl loose.
It was to no avail.
The feeling of the demon's claws scrapping against her backbone sent shivers throughout her body. Tears of agony and shame ran freely out of her eyes to soak her dark locks with their moisture. Because of her failure, Mr. Zabuto would most likely die at the hands of this Hellmouth-spawned demon.
The demon's face morphed back into its more human features, and, with a look of regret, she said, "Sorry."
Then the face shifted into a beastlier look. Before Kendra could react, the demon snapped its head down and bit deeply into the bulging muscles of the Slayer's upper left arm, causing the arm to lose its grip.
The demon grunted, and Kendra could feel the tearing agony as the clawed hand pushed deeper under her ribs. She tried to cry out, but the only sound to come out was a bubbling gurgle as her mouth and nose became flooded with her own blood.
Then Kendra actually felt the demon's fingers wrap themselves around pounding beating heart. With a wet tearing sound that was both felt and heard, the demonic girl ripped Slayer's heart out.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Zabuto," Kendra cried out as darkness descended on her - but not before she saw the demon lifting her still-pulsating heart to her lips, drinking from her grisly trophy.
The song "A Feast for the Vain" is by Kamelot.
To be continued…
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