Fic: - The Sidestep Chronicle & Second Chronicle

[Forrister]

Three parts !!! Three whole parts !!!!

Ok - remember I once said you would end up writing an epic? You said - and quite emphatically if I recall rightly - that you didn't think you could do it.

Well

You're doing it now - and doing it well.

I loved this bit. I had to stop reading it because it was time to go to work and I had already missed one bus. But I came back to it again and was touched once more by the interaction between the characters. I can understand the concerns Tara has for Toni. I suspect Tara sees much of her own tragedy in Toni - losing everyone she cared for, being left alone. I can also see that she wants Toni to be safe and loved - not driven to the sort of revenge she herself undertook. Tara isn't silly enough to think she can protect Toni from all hurt and harm, but she is providing a watchful and caring eye. Will this be enough? Only time will tell. But I put my money on Toni - she has a good heart and a sensible head.

Willow's choice of college is a biggie - I can't really see her packing up and going away. I think she has too much invested in Sunnydale and the people she loves there. Ok - she will never leave Tara - thats a given. But I think she has deep attachments to Ira, Rupert, Jenny and the children. She and Tara have been Sunnydale's protectors and while that role is less now that it had been - its not over - hence the regular patrolling. I also think there is a deep guilt thing happening - she feels the need to in some way make up for the evil done by her vamp-self. She doesn't wallow in it - she understands that it wasn't really her but a demon, but in a way she still needs to do something.

Keep writing hun, for as long as you enjoy doing so - and in the full knowledge that we enjoy reading it at least as much as you enjoy writing it.

Forrister.

Ubi bene, ibi patria.
Where one is happy, there is one's homeland.

[Katharyn]

Hi hun.

Not really three parts... just 1 part divided. Still if it gets you excited I can divide parts up? LOL

Oh yes, it's an epic. Just the Second Chronicle is up above 800,000 words now (not all posted) plus the half mill or so from the first... ouch. Congrats if you are still here.

I honestly think so much of what you and Toni - the real Toni the reader - see is subconcious for Tara because I never thought of it that way! Not wrong - just not at the front of her head!

And yes, Tara - all of them - want alot for Toni. Safety, love, the good stuff. I really like the way it's developing and none of this was planned out apart from certain key events. Toni, remember, was a late addition to the story - but one of the most rewarding for me as a writer. She is a challenege to write, and fun too. She has a teenage view, from the "inside" of T/W lives and that HAS to be fun.

Willow's college. It is and it isn't a biggie. That's all I can say... I also have to admit that your thoughts are close to hers, in my head. All of that is her motivation, and more.

I will keep writing... and we'll be here next year probably. But getting close to the end - or just finished *S* We end at about 240... so there's a while to go yet.

Thanks so much.

Next part tomorrow night. Unless your an aussie when it'll be the day after in the morning? Or American when it'll be lunch... If you're Russian or something I have no idea!

24 hours or less!

Katharyn

[Katharyn]

Title: The Sidestep Chronicle – Second Chronicle - A Demon All of Your Own (Part 190)
Author: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome. Katharynrosser1@hotmail.co.uk Flames just demonstrate you have a tiny mind.
Spoiler Warning: Pretty limited. The story occurs in an alternate universe as set up in “The Wish” though reference is made to events that occur in both realities. Nothing is referenced that occurs after S5 though. Guess why? Most “spoilers” would be for the first chronicle of this fic rather than the show and if you haven’t read that then much of this will make no sense but you can try and get round it by reading the preface to Part 104 which summarises most of what went before.
Distribution This story was written for Pens. Pens is its home. No archiving off Different Coloured Pens (This applies to all of the Sidestep Chronicle)
Summary: We’ve been with the girls for a while now, what else is going on?
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS. All rights lie with the production company, writers etc, etc. I am making zilch from this series of stories. You know the drill.
Rating: R – a general rating for occasional content. Individual parts might be less than this level.
Couples: Tara and Willow forever – others couples as necessary but nothing unconventional.
Notes: This part makes a start towards the very long arc that gets more plot orientated than we’ve seen for a while. We still take sidesteps into the girls lives, because really that’s the point *S* It also contains some of the larger questions about the Buffyverse… what happens if you do open a Hellmouth?
Thanks To: My own special woman Louise who helps me so much with this on top of everything else. Those other friends and family who’ve also helped us overcome everything that was put in my way. Celia and Kerry who shaped this story and continue to do so when I think back to what they told me in the past. Xita for keeping the story hanging around and continuing to give us TKTWATBW.


The Sidestep Chronicle – Second Chronicle

A Demon All of Your Own

By

Katharyn Rosser



He regarded himself as a man who knew how to please the ladies, and enjoyed doing so to the very best of his ability. Ethan Rayne was well known, in both the Under and Over worlds, for being a ladies man.

People and creatures always seemed to remember him, but most especially the ladies.

‘Whatever it took’ was his unofficial motto, one he’d just made up this very minute in case it should be needed. Along with ‘everything ends in chaos’ of course, which was dearly held belief.

Were these ladies he wanted to please though?

Were they even ladies?

Ladies only perhaps. That he wished to please them was a certainty. He did rather value his own skin.

And his blood, which was perhaps more relevant in the circumstances.

Deciding what to say hadn’t really been a struggle, despite what was at stake. He had to tell the truth. No choice there, even though he was an accomplished liar. His lies would easily have been seen through by one of these ladies.

The truth had helped, rather than hindered, the preparation of this little presentation. Who’d have thought he would have been telling the truth to vampires when he was making his promises?

From the doubt on one of their faces, probably not even them.

The truth was such a delicate tool and it was within, before and behind the truth that he would be able to hide a larger world of half-truths and outright lies. What was he supposed to do? Admit everything?

Tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth? Ha! The last thing he’d see if he did that would be his own life’s blood spilling over the floor as they ripped his throat out.

Was he supposed to admit what he was doing already about Phase II of the lawyers’ plans? How close it was to bearing fruit now? No longer weeks but days away.

Oh no. He was also quite prepared to admit these vampires would probably get imaginative before they ate him. They’d probably skin him; something he’d watched happen before. There wasn’t going to be anything like that here though. He had the truth on his side after all. How could he go wrong?

They’d have their truth and he’d conceal the rest from them behind it.

“I have good news for you ladies,” he said with a vocal flourish.

It was his one half-truth. They would consider it good news which made it their truth, which was all that counted. Actually all that counted was that he believed it was good news for them – but that was close enough.

Pleasing them was something he rather enjoyed. He enjoyed anything that kept him alive, with all his skin attached to his body and no large holes through which he was uncontrollably leaking.

“Are all the little ducks are in a row?” Drusilla asked inquisitively, tipping her head to one side, much like a puppy.

He was proud of the fact he didn’t miss a beat, not a single one. “Metaphorically speaking,” he replied with a nod.

“So you can do it?” Darla asked him carefully, coming right back to that thing she’d asked him for. Something the lawyers had far from forbidden, they’d actually demanded it – within certain limits.

She wanted the Hellmouth opening and now, after a break to ‘research’ whether he could, he had to tell them. He was surprised they’d let it go on this long already, but the lawyers had wanted a delay.

He regarded her for a moment. She had a look in her eye, one that resembled a predator looking at its next meal.

It was a look that wasn’t so far from the truth. Except he wasn’t about to be her next meal, was he? Was he really going to respond negatively to her question? When she looked at people like that it was a wonder anyone had ever told her an unpleasant truth. Instead he had a much better answer.

A pleasant truth. Almost.

“I could do it,” was his chosen response.

Carefully measured and very carefully considered before hand. ‘Could’ was such a wonderful word. It was an affirmative answer to her early question. It meant he was capable of doing it, but also that he wasn’t going to unless she really wanted it.

Thereafter he was on thinner ice. The implication was that there was either a better choice, which she’d missed, or there was something he wanted before he would do it.

Those were the parts that weren’t likely to go down well. Perhaps he needed to clarify the situation a little. “What I mean is I certainly could do it, given sufficient time and resources.” There was a point behind the clarification.

“More time?” she asked, already sounding resigned.

“More time,” he confirmed. She really was that desperate – that lacking in real power. “And resources.”

He’d seen her eyes, he knew what her reaction to the first four words would have been if he had left it there though, that he ‘could do it.’ She’d have been powerful enough to have her revenge on him.

Everything served a purpose though. By allowing her to flare up like that, at least inside, before offering her what she wanted anyway he’d bought himself time to think, which was exactly what he needed.

A dangerous game was being played here. He had to believe in his value to her over the simple and quickly faded pleasure of killing him now.

“Both of which you will have,” she said. “When you do this.”

That was an interesting emphasis she had there. ‘When’? He was asking for, and had gotten, the time the lawyers had demanded. Perhaps she just meant he had to make a start. Once he’d started – shown that much progress – then she’d give him the rest of the time he needed.

He suspected she just wanted to be able to point to something and know it was what she wanted, complete or not. So far she’d had very little from him – other than the freedom to, carefully, roam this town she’d been obsessed with ruling.

Ruling? Destroying would seem like a better description now.

And there was another truth at work. For some reason, in spite of her doubts, she expected the truth from him. She was a vampire, a demon with no regard for humans except as a source of food. He, she knew, was a human who had little regard for the values of society.

Why would she expect the truth from him? He was sad to say that humans who knew him from way back would have less faith in his word than she was showing. Ripper certainly wouldn’t, perhaps with some cause. There had been the whole Eygon thing, tattooing his wife… Bygones though.

Even if Darla had no reason to expect truth, she was going to get a good part of it now. “Perhaps,” he ventured, “you might want to consider just what it is you’re asking ag-.”

It was a venture too far, obviously. Before he had chance to finish his sentence, or to think what else to say, he found her at his throat – very literally – and the already squeezing the life from him.

Absurdly he wondered why he didn’t seem to be worth anything as a meal?

Of course he’d had people at his throat in the past, but none with this vampires pedigree and strength. Once people got to his throat they were rather too close. So this was goodbye? Not even bothering to eat him?

“Weak. Pathetic creature,” Darla said as she squeezed and he felt something pop out of place beneath her fingers. Something inside his throat. “Where’s your ambition?” she asked rhetorically. She didn’t expect an answer. Strangely he had a witty retort, but as the world went darker it faded in his mind – besides he couldn’t do anything other than croak a little.

“Easy grandmamma.” There was another voice intruding on his dimming consciousness. His struggles were having even less impact on Darla than they had before as his strength faded, not that he’d ever do anything as stupid as hit or kick her. “He’s not afraid,” the voice said. “He’s being a clever-clogs.”

Whatever the vampire who was killing him said in reply he missed. The world went dark and silent, though silent last of all for…

It would only have been for a moment he’d been unconscious, surely. But he was alive. Chaos preserve Drusilla. Dark Queen of… well, instability. But right now he wanted to kiss her. Not that he would. That would be a worse idea than kicking Darla would’ve been.

Worse if she hadn’t killed him.

Much worse if Drusilla had taken an interest in him for doing it. She’d been known to keep… pets.

He looked up at the Dark Queen from the floor, and beside her… his would be killer. When the time came he’d remember both of them for what they’d done here today. One positive, and one negative. He tended to pay debts like that off.

“Don’t make my Drusilla a liar,” Darla said impatiently as he coughed and sucked more air into his lungs.

Well, pardon him for falling down choking. “What?” he croaked, rubbing his throat.

“She says you have something else in mind,” she went on.

He managed a smile, but it was all for show. “Always.”

“Would that be instead of or as well as saving yourself?” she asked. Oh yes, he’d remember this. He found grudges to be the most tedious of things, and he was determined not to bear one. She was just being true to her nature, but one day there would be a chance he could be true to his nature… free of contracts and restrictions. But right now she was a contractual requirement.

But when she wasn’t, on that day, she might find herself in the middle of one of his little schemes. He’d take a great deal of interest in her struggles to get out of it.

He just smiled back at her as he stood up and straightened his clothes. He knew he had her intrigued, but there was a hair trigger temper there – and next time Drusilla might not intervene on his behalf. The Dark Queen hadn’t saved him, not as such, she’d just known there was more in his mind and wanted to know what it was.

If he didn’t make this good, if he didn’t hold their interest, there wouldn’t be a second intervention. Best case he’d be forced to open the Hellmouth much too soon, and there was no way that fitted with his timetable. If that happened, the lawyers would be very displeased.

Displeased in a way that’d make the risks of opening the Hellmouth look like a minor inconvenience.

So now he needed to keep these vampires on his schedule and yet stop them from killing him too. An interesting challenge. He needed to offer them something.

“Have you considered,” he asked, “just what an open, uncontrolled, Hellmouth would mean?”

“Tea and cakes for everyone!”

“The end of the world Dru,” Darla corrected. “Remember, its what we decided on?”

“Actually,” he told her, thinking better of waving a finger in her direction lest it become a snack. Finger-food. “No.”

“No?” Darla sounded as if she couldn’t believe he’d actually contradicted her.

“It’s a myth,” he said. “The world wouldn’t be destroyed as in ‘piff paff poof no more world’ way. It would merely be invaded.” And this was the key.

This was what she had to understand. “There are ways to suck the world into one of the Hells,” he went on. “This isn’t one of them. Instead you’re just releasing a demon dimension, or a collection of them, into this world again.”

“All the humans would die,” she said.

And that was the key for her. She didn’t want a destroyed world, she wanted dead humans. Even if that left her precisely nothing to feed on, except rats and creatures she refused to feed on now.

Had she considered that?

“A century ago, almost certainly – though Hellmouths have been re-sealed in the past after great losses. But today? I doubt it.” And this was the truth. He couldn’t see how this could happen as she wanted it to. She was adding two and two and coming up with zero – nothing left.

“What do you mean?” Darla asked.

“Technology is the new magic,” he told her. And that was a damn shame, his regret was honest and obvious.

“Explain,” she commanded, but he could tell she was already starting to think along the right lines. The edge had gone from her voice. Now she was just curious and demanding. Better than lethal and demanding any day.

“If you, we, open the Hellmouth I’m sure Sunnydale, maybe a good amount of the southwest portion of what they laughingly call a country will be decimated. But not the whole continent. Not even the whole country, let alone the world.” There it was.

The truth really was that simple. “Eventually, to save themselves, they’ll mobilise. In a fight to the death they won’t care they're facing demons instead of tanks. They’ll still fight.” The governments already knew about the Under worlds… some of them even walked in it.

“Let them,” Darla said confidently. “Humans are weak.”

Ethan could see that Drusilla understood what he meant though. Her Wolfram and Hart file suggested she’d seen modern warfare close up in the 1940s. “But we’re numerous,” he said. “Nor do we just swing swords at things we fear. You know what war will bring.”

“Don’t let them grandmamma. Don’t let them please…” Yes, Drusilla knew. Drusilla understood. Right now it was probably just pride that was interfering with Darla’s understanding.

“Death?” the blonde vampire asked.

“Fire…” Drusilla whispered as it was a terrible thing – and for vampires it was.

“Don’t fool yourself,” Ethan said. He felt he was on safer ground now. He could suggest that, perhaps, she would be a fool, and she let it wash over her. “The governments know how to deal with vampires.” Governments, he hated them. “If you push too far…”

“They’ll push back,” Darla concluded.

“Humans will burn the world rather than lose a war with your kind,” he summarised. He really believed it. The capacity for organised destruction was one of the most terrifying facets of any government. To plan death… monstrous. He wasn’t squeamish. He would and had done things that had resulted in death. Several of them. He’d actually rather enjoyed himself at times. But to plan… to make death a bureaucratic function?

Chaos preserve us all.

“But this helps either of us how?” Darla asked. “You forget that I want to watch them die.”

“And if some of my old classmates had succeeded in ‘Banning the Bomb’ then you might have done. But you’ll burn with us. Before us. If the American’s don’t do it to themselves then the Russians, French, Israeli’s, Chinese or any of a dozen more nations will do it to them. To stop you and your rampaging hordes.” And that was just the way it was.

“What about the British,” Darla wondered idly as she seemed to ponder his words.

“Spineless in the main, trust me to know – I drink tea.” He had no illusions the British wouldn’t just slavishly follow the lead of the Americans. They’d been doing so for the last half-century. Why would they stop now? Besides the Watcher’s Council wouldn’t be above encouraging the nuking of the former-colonies.

To stop the demons and the vampires. Vampires were the least of anyone’s worries – but definitely would be the most at risk in a nuclear fire.

If the Council had the capability they’d be willing to do it themselves, he was sure. Fortunately their budget barely ran to economy airfares, let alone nuclear bombs.

“But the Master took this town,” Darla protested. “Ruled it as he ruled the old cities, in the old days.”

“Yes, and he stopped,” Ethan pointed out. This was the whole point. “For all he, allegedly, wanted to open the Hellmouth – he also wanted to rule the world. Those are usually considered to be mutually exclusive. He stopped the Hellmouth being fully opened. He didn’t slaughter us humans himself. Even when he ruled he didn’t attract more attention than unwillingness to believe in your kind could explain away. The key is that he didn’t force the governments to act.”

They gave him Sunnydale in a truce that no one had ever agreed.

He could see the thoughts stewing in her mind. Still, even if she was a vampire, she was a natural blonde. It might be better to spell it out to her. “You had it right the first time – when you adopted his pattern as your own.”

He could see she was pleased to have her judgement vindicated, her ego stroked, even by a human. But…

“Yet here we are,” she said. “The Witches,” she grimaced, “sent us away.”

“Bad Witches!” Drusilla interjected.

“You’d have me start all over again?” Darla asked. “Suffer that all over again when they find us? You already have us hiding – us! Or perhaps you just want me to wait for them to die of old age? Dru, I’m very close to snapping his idiotic neck.”

“Don’t do that,” Drusilla cooed, “he knows things and if you kill him it will all run away into the dirt.”

He didn’t acknowledge her assistance, perhaps because he hadn’t actually feared for his life. Darla was displaying her ignorance and lack of forethought. More to the point he was sure she knew it. She’d already shown she wanted to know what he thought – and now because she was feeling she was out of control she was blustering.

All it did was make her look stupid.

Unlike Drusilla. Who’d have thought she would have been the one showing restraint? Certainly not him.

“No,” he said patiently. “I propose that you truly adopt the Master’s mantle.”

“Dru,” Darla moaned. “I’m bored now. Can’t I please kill him?”

Ethan was actually surprised. Darla never usually asked permission to kill anyone. She was hasty enough to do it and regret the action later.

“Shhhh. He knows!” Drusilla actually sounded proud. Or excited. Possibly both.

“Knows what?” Darla snapped.

“That the Master didn’t want to destroy the world.” It was so simple. How could they never have seen it? Perhaps only Drusilla had.

“You think you know what the Master – ”

“Grandmamma. Shush!”

“Of course, you knew him best,” Ethan said soothingly. It was true. All he’d done was read reports at Wolfram and Hart and listened to the rumors coming out of the Under world at the time of the Master’s control. “But all of us being here now, in this town, proves he didn’t want to destroy the world. Or even this place.”

“Then…” Darla prompted.

“He wanted to rule it.”

“Later, when he’d been trapped here perhaps, but not at the start,” Darla insisted.

“And his method of control was…?” Ethan allowed the question to hang. Let her have her delusion; it didn’t really matter as long as she accepted the rest of what he was saying.

“The Hellmouth?” Darla guessed. He nodded. “Go on,” she ventured in a much softer, almost seductive, tone. Perhaps something was getting through to her now. If she harnessed that, she might not even have to worry about the Witches.

“Perhaps, at the start, when he came here he was trying to open the Hellmouth all the way. To release the minions of the evil ones and sweep the world clean,” he was willing to give her that. After all, the Master had gotten himself trapped.

“But perhaps that was the last time it was possible to open the Hellmouth and cleanse the world. By World War II… I don’t think we humans would have been as easy to defeat as we would have been earlier.”

He didn’t necessarily believe what he’d said, but it gave her the chance to be right and he didn’t know what he’d said was actually wrong. No one but the Master really knew – and he was long gone. The evidence though was that, right from the start, he’d been trying to control it.

“Once he was trapped though, he certainly fed on it,” Ethan continued. He used its power to sustain him. And when he was released, for all his bluster about destroying the world, he took over this town instead. He didn’t unleash hell on it.”

Drusilla was playing with her own hair, twirling it like an uninterested little girl, but he could see the thoughts playing in Darla’s mind. She was very interested.

“If it hadn’t been for the Hellmouth do you explain the powers he demonstrated otherwise? His appearance?”

“He was ancient beyond years!” Darla told him firmly. Pure brotherhood party line.

“Was he? Or was he merely a little older than the rest of you?” Ethan asked.

“You dare??!”

“No offence, it’s still ancient in the human scheme of things.” He regretted that as soon as he’d said it, comparing the Master to a human.

He could see her getting angry again.

Ethan looked into his memory. He had rather a good one. Not perfect recall, or eidetic, but he was able to remember more than most people. It was a gift, and rather handy when it came to proving people wrong.

Like now.

“Erich Kessler, also known as The Master. Reputed to have been turned in the fifteenth century, possibly in Germany.” He recited it by rote – intending her to realize she was hearing careful research and not just an opinion.

“You know nothing, human,” Darla hissed. “He was already elevated… physically much more than human when he turned me. By your own logic I should already appear as he did then.”

This was precisely what he needed; she had given him his opening.

“And you would do. You could do. If you embraced the power of the Hellmouth. If you controlled it, grew on it – but paid the price of it too.” He noticed the barely perceptible shudder that passed through her. For her it would be a price. She was vain. She enjoyed some of her human traits – her appearance above all things.

Every time he’d seen Darla she’d always been immaculate.

Now was still immaculate, but also interested.

Interested, but still arguing.

“We only came here under a century ago. You’re argument doesn’t hold blood,” she argued – but her tone suggested she simply wanted assurance he could be right. That he had an answer she could accept and which might make her what the Master had one been. Not just the leader of the Order of Aurelius, she had been there and failed at it, but rather the most powerful vampire in the world.

Perhaps the most powerful vampire in history if it was done right.

“And how far was the Master from a Hellmouth, at least for any period of time, during all the time you knew him?” He left her to think about that one. The pattern had leapt out at him when he’d seen Wolfram and Hart’s files. Clear as day.

The Master had maintained lairs underground and in cities that were never more than a day away from a Hellmouth, even if they hadn’t been right over the top of them they had been here.

“Vienna. Versailles. St Petersburg. Cleveland,” he recited eventually as the light dawned on her – in a non-fatal way.

“Sunnydale,” she finished.

“He knew about them,” Ethan continued. “Perhaps he even had a connection to their energy. Maybe he could feel them and sought them out.” He didn’t want to suggest it was just animal instinct.

“He stayed in other places,” Darla argued again – perhaps she was just unwilling to take the news from a human who hadn’t even been born then.

“And who’s to say they weren’t places of power?” Ethan wondered. He had a more comprehensive list. Perhaps he could make use of that, in the future. “The only obvious Hellmouth he avoided was the cave in Transylvania,” he added at the end. “At least so far as I can tell.”

“That was because of him,” Darla almost spat the last word.

“Him?” Ethan wondered, regretting it when she glared at him with those yellow eyes again.

“Oooooh, Transylvania” Drusilla cooed, swaying as she savored the word. “Is Uncle Dracula coming to visit us for tea and crumpets?”

“No,” her counterpart told her with firm assurance. “He’s not.”

The reaction of the ‘girlish’ monster suggested maybe there was another button he could press there then. Or was it just Drusilla’s extreme reactions – nothing moderate for that creature.

“It’s the only correlation I can find between the Master, his choices of lairs, his appearance, the obvious powers and the ‘magic’ he could perform.” Nothing dead could use real magic, and there was nothing to suggest he’d made deals with the Greater Demons who could gift him some of those… so the reports of the Master’s powers had always intrigued him. It was what had led him to this ‘discovery.’

Perhaps it was better considered as supposition for now.

“Nothing dead can use magic,” Darla said firmly, as if she’d been reading his thoughts.

“And nothing alive and human can possibly master a Hellmouth,” he told her. “If you’ll pardon the pun.”

“Really?” she checked. Perhaps she was worried about the Witches doing so, but Ethan was sure they had no need of anything so twisted as a rip in dimensional reality.

He was a different matter though.

“Believe me,” he assured her, “if we could then I would already be doing so.”

She looked at him and, perhaps for the first time, had a genuine smile on her face. One of, something approaching, appreciation. “Yes, you would, wouldn’t you?”

“So you see, you suit my purposes as much as I suit yours,” he told her – confident that, at least for now, she wouldn’t take offence at his words.

Her smile widened. “Perhaps, but why do I even need you?”

“Because you could only open it… never control it,” he told her.

And there it was – the ultimate offer he could make her. Enough to keep her interested in not destroying the world. Enough to buy him the time to do what he’d been contracted to do.

If she’d go for it.

She thought about his words as Drusilla played at dancing her fingers around. “You can open it…” Darla said. “And then close it?”

“I can close it, but more importantly not seal it,” he suggested. “Closing it will just sever the link between what emerges and the demon dimensions beyond, allowing you to kill or control anything that comes through. How would that be for an army?”

Death was, as always, the ultimate sanction. “Meanwhile, your power will grow as the power of the Hellmouth seeps through,” she countered.

He nodded.

“Oh goody!” Drusilla exclaimed and tugged on Darla’s sleeve. “Can we? Can we, Grandmamma?”

Darla didn’t shrug her off. “Yes honey, I think we can.” She turned to him. “What do you need?”

Finally, thought. The question. Acceptance. The world had a future again, at least one without wars against demons fought with nuclear weapons.

“As I said, time…” he said.

“Of course you do, it’s what you always want from me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that.” she acquiesced. “But not too much more Ethan. You don’t want to make me impatient.”

He just nodded at the implicit threat.

“I want a hell demon, I want a hell demon!”

“And you shall have one,” Darla promised. “All of your very own. As long as you promise to look after it and feed it as many humans as it needs, each and every day.”

“I promise,” Drusilla assured her solemnly.

**************************

[Tigerkid14]

So, I finally reached the most recent part of this thrall-inducing, gigantic story and the only thought I can come up with for feedback is:"I should have taken notes". I'm a bad English major, I freely admit it. It took me far longer to catch up on this than it should've (and no, I'm not telling you how long because I'm ashamed of it - I usually read at a much faster pace) but in the end, all that time has been well spent.

It was two years ago that a friend of mine said to me "hey, you should read Sidestep". I wasn't really in the right frame of mind at to get into something that was as dark as the first chronicle so I simply filed the information away and told myself to get to it later. Later came this year.

Katharyn, I have no idea how you've managed to do it. It's absolutely incredible. I have this insane urge to just start back at the beginning and take those notes this time so I can give you some real feedback instead of this "you write good" stuff that I seem to be doing. I have to tell you though, when I clicked on to page 106 tonight and finally saw today's date, an incredible sense of accomplishment flooded my brain and all I had to do was read it. I can not begin to imagine the time and energy that went into the writing process and is still going into it.

Oh, I know it was probably a long time ago for you, but a while back, after the big move from the other board, you requested that someone who was reading through all the pages tell you if all the parts made it over okay and I can assure you, they all made it safe and sound.

A big shout out to Louise for sticking with you through all this and taking care of you all this time. Hi, Louise!

And! (Katharyn, feel free to ignore this part): YOU! You know who you are! You told me time and time again "you should read Sidestep; read Sidestep" over and over and here I am, 106 internet pages completely read from top to bottom and not ONCE, not one single time did I see any public feedback from YOU! I know you said that you sent her emails, but you know what? That doesn't count! So as soon as you see this, there had better be some public feedback or you're going to be suffering my wrath!

Katharyn, please keep writing, keep posting and now that I'm all caught up, there's a chance that I'll actually be able to do real feedback on future parts.

Meghan

~“I sensed another presence in the room so I sat up, looked, and saw it was a person reading so I thought ‘no, it’s not the elephant’ and laid back down.” ~friend of mine

[Katharyn]

Welcome to the present - or even the future - Meghan.

It's very gratifying when someone catches up because it's a rarer and rarer thing simply because the story is so long now as you say.

And yes, you should've been taking notes. I am curious thought how long it took you to read - simply because I keep thinking I should re-read it myself. I gain things from doing that - views of what went before I had forgotten about.

And now you get to have over a week between parts and put up with that until around this time next year. At least. Should be a little more relaxed for you!

You were right not to read Sidestep at the wrong time. It was unremittingly dark for a long, long time and I know that put a lot of people off, but my hope was always that the light at the end would always seem so much brighter because of it.

If you are insane enough to go back to the beginning and take notes/feedback then by all means... but the author takes no responsibility for any madness that may ensue! Oh, and thanks for confirming everything is here!!

Louise. Ha. The thing of it is... she never liked BTVS, aside from a basic curiosity about T/W when I was raving. She doesn't even like sci-fi etc. And yes, she's read more of this than most people, poor thing. She's just waiting for me to get this out of my system and start doing something with the original ideas I've had. Don't be harsh on her, remember who the insane one is!

I'm pretty sure that she did write something in the thread in the early days though. Perhaps I'm dreaming though.

Thanks so much, and I hope you'll stick with me now you can't get a fix whenever you want it. That said, the next part will probably be posted Friday or Saturday this week. At least that's the plan!

Katharyn

[Forrister]

I could swear there is a hellmouth somewhere here in Australia . . . and it opens every year in the last week of June on the occasion of end of financial year - the time when all the loonies and nutters come out to play and demand money and ask stupid questions. As you may have noticed my idiot-tolerance level has lowered significantly in the last week. Thank goodness I'm not an accountant or in finances!

Grandmamma, may I have a hell demon too?

I was wondering what this evil little trio were up to. . . . And you didn't tell us!! It was a most excellent tease - and I do have one or two theories, but you skillfully drew me in. It's a mightly thin fence Ethan is straddling and I suspect he'll have to jump soon. Darla is still thinking only of what she wants now, and Dru is still all insane, and probably making more sense than either of them. The relationship between the elder and younger vampires is ambiguous as ever. Darla may be in charge . . . but Dru controls her a great deal. In a weird way its like together they make one really great villain - but it takes the two of them. I loved the byplay - looking forward to seeing more of it.

Waiting patiently for the next part . . . . and I hope my demon is in the mail!

Forrister.

Katharyae est imperare orbi universo
It is Katharyn's destiny to rule the whole world

[Katharyn]

I am aware I keep giving little bursts of the vamps and Ethan etc. It's probably because I like writing the girls so much more - fun as the baddies are! Also I have a set number of Ethan/Vamp parts that kind of define the plot arc and the T/W stuff goes in between.

But we're into a Ethan area now. He'll crop up quite a bit for a little while.

As you'll see in the part I post tonight or tomorrow.

Darla would be nothing, as a character, without Dru. She is - fundametally - pretty boring. At least compared to Ethan or Dru. It's her relationships that are more interesting. With the Master, with Luke, with Dru or even Ethan. In the show she played well with Angel. But since Angel is long dead it's necessary to write her around others .Dru's just most fun!

Next part as I said will be very soon. Just need to make one last pass through it.

Thanks hun,

Katharyn

[Katharyn]

Title: The Sidestep Chronicle – Second Chronicle – The Sassy Tara Maclay (Part 191)
Author: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome. Katharynrosser1@hotmail.co.uk Flames just demonstrate you have a tiny mind.
Spoiler Warning: Pretty limited. The story occurs in an alternate universe as set up in “The Wish” though reference is made to events that occur in both realities. Nothing is referenced that occurs after S5 though. Guess why? Most “spoilers” would be for the first chronicle of this fic rather than the show and if you haven’t read that then much of this will make no sense but you can try and get round it by reading the preface to Part 104 which summarises most of what went before.
Distribution This story was written for Pens. Pens is its home. No archiving off Different Coloured Pens (This applies to all of the Sidestep Chronicle)
Summary: Three section part – Toni & Mal, Tara and Willow… and Ethan.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS. All rights lie with the production company, writers etc, etc. I am making zilch from this series of stories. You know the drill. The Muppets are (probably) owned by Jim Henson and co… I have nothing to do with them either.
Rating: R – a general rating for occasional content. Individual parts might be less than this level.
Couples: Tara and Willow forever – others couples as necessary but nothing unconventional.
Notes: All credit to Kerry for the idea behind the spell Ethan considers in this part and of which we’ll see more later. Next part is the absolute, final, flashback… but then we are into Ethan’s spell and what happens. And A LOT happens. Mal and Toni do some typing to each other here, and I’ve experimented with a little “chat speak” let me know if you find it annoying but there are some things 15/16 year olds in a hurry don’t take the time to type out! I don’t think there’s much more of it though. And yes, there is a little tribute to one of our long term Kitten Board writers in here.
Thanks To: My own special woman Louise who helps me so much with this on top of everything else. Those other friends and family who’ve also helped us overcome everything that was put in my way. Celia and Kerry who shaped this story and continue to do so when I think back to what they told me in the past. Xita for keeping the story hanging around and continuing to give us TKTWATBW.


The Sidestep Chronicle – Second Chronicle

The Sassy Tara Maclay

By

Katharyn Rosser



“So how am I doing?” Mal asked. “Is this right?”

*Shut your mouth and use your fingers* Toni told him firmly. *No there. There. No. Just use one.*

Of course then she had to type it all for him. She’d signed in frustration – as well as to encourage him – but there was no way he was picking up her directions. At least typing was quicker than using the damn wipe board. A boy in her bedroom, what else would she be doing than teaching him what to do with his hands and fingers?

Pulling them exactly where they should be because nothing else seemed to be working tonight.

Mal… wasn’t the best student of sign language she’d ever had to try and teach. At least not compared to the adults who were responsible for her right now. He was getting to understand her signs; his problems were more about making the shapes and gestures he needed to so he could talk back to her.

No, perhaps that wasn’t fair. He could manage the shapes and hand positioning. His problems were about making the transitions from one shape to another without getting hopelessly muddled up and, while in that state, making all sorts of inadvertent signs as he searched for the one right one.

The transitions could be funny, but mainly they turned his carefully considered words – because he had only a limited vocabulary in sign – into gibberish.

Mal’s problem was he seemed to think that as long as he started in the right place and ended up in the right place everything in between didn’t really matter too much. That the rest was just ‘err’ and whatever it was hearing people stuck between their words.

Trouble was half the time he was actually saying something else entirely in between the words he meant to communicate. So, with Mal, it was like she was having to learn a new language too – or at least a kind of language. What was it called? A dialect?

And it didn’t bode all that well for anything else she might have wanted him to use his hands – or even his fingers – for in the future. The distant future. Just because she was starting to think it – and boy was she starting to think about it – didn’t mean she was going to be doing it.

Hell no.

Not that that was ever going to happen here anyway. Not with Tara and Willow popping their heads around the door every few minutes with yet another reason to interrupt. The word ‘contrived’ could’ve been made up for them. She’d seen it being used a couple of times in her life – but she was pretty sure it meant that kind of thing.

‘I’m just making a drink, would either of you like one?’

‘Mal, can you give your Dad something for me?’

‘Everything okay?’

‘What do you think of a dress like this for the graduation ball?’ One magazine was good for several visits too.

Or ‘I’m just off… out. Willow’s still here though. I’ll say goodbye now Mal, you won’t be here when I get back.’

The last one was her favourite in so many ways. ‘Favourite’ meaning it really wasn’t at all.

First of all Tara had wanted to say she was going hunting, and then had to stop herself. Second, of course they’d been making sure she and Mal weren’t doing anything other than studying or working on his sign right at that moment. Third it was a clear declaration. ‘You won’t be here when I get back.’ Tara hadn’t even said when she’d be back.

But she was probably right – there was no way Mal was staying the night. Anything like that would’ve made things complicated. With Tara, Willow and Mal.

Toni had figured she had a couple of hours, minimum, before Tara did return and their evening was declared over rather than coming to its normal, natural conclusion.

Hunting never took Tara less than a couple of hours. She often thought to herself that if Tara, Willow and the others just got in better shape then they could do it much faster. They could’ve run it and been round in about thirty minutes.

Right now, longer was better though.

She sighed, paying attention to his hands again. If she had to.

Mal wasn’t picking this up as well as any of the others who called themselves her students. He was the fifth person she’d ever had to teach to sign, sixth if you included little Faith, and now she was running into problems with it.

He just couldn’t get making signs properly except when they were isolated – and not in a sentence. He could ‘listen’ better and better but he couldn’t talk properly in her language.

He had communications issues.

It wasn’t like she expected him to be proficient or anything, but it’d been a few weeks since she’d started with him and he was only just getting finger-spelling down properly. By this point the others, even Faith, had been up to enough words to hold a baby-talk conversation.

Honestly though, she was continually surprised he was even bothering.

Rupert, Jenny, Tara and Willow had all started to learn for her – to make it possible for them to look after her when she’d needed them. And they’d known that they had to do it. She was grateful they had, otherwise she knew she’d probably have ended up, but it hadn’t really been their choice about the sign – they’d chosen to help her and the sign had been a natural part of that choice.

Mal was here because he chose to be though, and Toni had to admit she’d been easier on him than she wanted to be. She’d even managed to keep her patience with him. Up to now anyway.

This was really the first time she’d lost her temper even a little bit. Shed scolded him in full speed sign, yanking his hands up and his fingers into the right patterns. And he’d looked at her like a puppy would if she’d just kicked it. He’d gotten the message even before she’d typed it out for him.

She should’ve been disdainful of that kind of self-pitying attitude when it came to her language – but somehow she didn’t have it in her. Not when it came to him.

It was true – she liked him.

And he had to like her right? Or he wouldn’t be putting himself through all this. What other reason could there be for him being willing to do this?

Okay, there was one other reason he might’ve been here but he sure as hell wasn’t getting any of that anytime soon.

And that was probably what Tara and Willow were afraid of. Jenny and Rupert too probably, but she wasn’t staying with them so it was less of an issue. Willow, and especially Tara, got to do the parent thing.

If they’d just been able to see what she had – how even some older girls at school tried to hang around him and he brushed them off, nicely. They still wanted to be around him – but she’d never been jealous of that. Even when she’d started to realise she should be feeling jealous.

Because he’d never given any other girl his attention like he gave it to her. And some of those other girls… Oh yeah, some of them would probably have done what Tara and Willow were afraid of. If they could just see that…

She was just really, really hoping none of them decided it was time to give her ‘the talk.’

Okay, so she liked Mal, and she really, really hoped he liked her… but it wasn’t time for ‘the talk.’ It really wasn’t.

First of all she was certain she hadn’t taught them the signs for it, and finger spelling – even as fast as they’d gotten to be – was just going to add a terrible air of inevitability to what they were trying to say to her. She’d be mortified before they got past the first few letters. She knew all that stuff anyway.

Finger spelling, when signs existed, was the equivalent of baby-talk. Would she be able to keep a straight face while they lectured her about all the stuff she already knew?

And hey! Two lesbians teaching about the perils of being with boys? How did that work? When you came right down to it Tara and Willow would have a bit of a credibility gap. On the other hand, so had her Dad. To the best of her knowledge when he’d told her what she had to know he hadn’t been with anyone for years. And she knew there’d never been anyone for him but her Mom. And the bitch left us anyway.

She sighed again, thinking about her Dad as well as what her guardians were bound to feel they had to do. The more time she spent with Mal, the more likely it became they’d do something.

Mal, of course, took the sigh as another expression of disapproval and started trying to sign an apology. He was getting pretty good at ‘sorry’ – from any starting point.

*Not you* she signed. Then simplified it for him, shaking her head and pointing with a smile.

And his smile widened again.

He had a great smile, he really did. She shouldn’t have been impressed with something like that, but she was… damn him. A better haircut would be great, but he had a beautiful smile. And needless to say he was pretty buff. Running would do that to you. She hoped, one day, to find out it was an all body buffness. Right now there were still parts she hadn’t seen.

And it was staying that way!

Tara and Willow needn’t have worried. First of all she wasn’t sure the idea had actually occurred to Mal.

Okay, now it was time to call bullshit on herself.

Of course it’d occurred to him – he was a boy. She was pretty sure he’d be thinking about her when he… did what he did. At least once. It was like ‘ewww’ but it was like ‘wow’ too. If he had. More ‘eww’ than ‘wow’ but the idea of being a fantasy was kind of cool.

But she couldn’t ever ask Mal… God no. She didn’t even want to know. Knowing would definitely more ‘ewww’ than not knowing and thinking about it at certain times. When she was feeling certain ways about him.

But he hadn’t done anything about whatever had occurred to him. And it hadn’t occurred to him recently. Whatever he was thinking about, he didn’t look at her that way when they were together.

At least not unless she caught him just watching her, when she was doing something else. Then he’d look away, blushing and she had a pretty fair idea what that might mean. She found the blushes sweet – they told her a lot.

Other people called her an expert in body-language and expressions, she didn’t agree with that. It was just part of how she got by. Every kid she’d known at her old school knew how to keep their eyes on other people. You had to, just to see what they were saying. Common sense.

If that made her some kind of expert, compared to the hearing people, then that was just their own inability to pay attention to the people they were supposedly talking to. Even the spoken words half the time.

She had to admit that Mal had been surprised by what she could make out about him though. More than once she’d figured out what was on his mind without actually him saying anything.

And he’d never had the sex-thing on his mind while he was with her. What he did later, on his own, she didn’t want to think about at all. At least not right now, when she was trying to teach him stuff. But it wasn’t a part of things when he was with her.

They were friends. No posturing, none of the signals that went with more than that. At least she didn’t think so… she wasn’t really an expert.

Why wasn’t he giving her signals? Stolen glances and blushes weren’t enough.

Signals would be good.

Just because he wasn’t going to get anywhere didn’t mean that she couldn’t want him to want to get somewhere.

And if he’d shown – or god, even said - he did? She’d have secretly liked it but firmly rebuffed him all the same. Like she was going to do what Tara and Willow were afraid of? Ha, no way.

The fact he’d put in the time without making it obvious he was putting in the time was a good sign – she thought. It was so tough to know… he was her first boyfriend and she was very aware that while she probably had a grip on what made herself tick – she had no real idea how boys worked.

Another sigh, another reassurance for him. He wasn’t even, officially, her ‘boyfriend’ – because they hadn’t said that was what they were. They were people who trained together, did homework assignments together and took what would otherwise be an unhealthy interest in the movements and positioning of each other’s hands and fingers.

Usually, in the great romances of history, a girl didn’t have to teach her boyfriend to speak. Perhaps in the cave-men days had been the last time that’d happened. Probably something along the lines of ‘drag me to this filthy cave will you? Well, if you think you’re getting anything here you can go get run over by a mammoth.’

Somehow she had to slip the word ‘boyfriend’ into her signing and let the subject come up. Natural like.

But another night.

When he knew what the sign meant and it’d be a bit more subtle than teaching it to him then wondering what he thought about it. If she could get him to tell her what he was thinking at all… Boys!

He broke off from his signing and picked up the laptop she’d pretty much claimed as her own since she’d started spending time with him – even online. “What’s wrong?” he typed, pushing it across to her and letting her read it.

Oh, this was stupid. All of it was stupid.

Even ‘chat’ worked better than this – when they weren’t here in the same apartment they could talk better than when they were. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Why couldn’t he just be deaf too!?

When they were closer – in the same room and alone – they couldn’t explore the very thing that’d helped bring them together. Here it was clumsy and slow – either his signing or both of them pushing a laptop computer around between them.

And yet she wanted him to be here – or at least to be somewhere else with him. This was… awkward but at least it was close.

It wasn’t Tara and Willow’s fault they just had an apartment – it was a nice place – but the only privacy she and Mal could have was in her bedroom and there was definitely an unspoken ‘no bed’ rule.

Unspoken in the sense that when Tara came in and looked at them both on the bed – even reclining at different ends – you just knew that the unspoken rule could very easily become a spoken one.

Not that it stopped her; they were both curled up at different ends of the bed, the laptop and some books between them right now. She’d trust Mal to tell her when he heard the front door open. That’d be Tara coming back. Willow, even if she ‘popped in’ was more flexible and easier going than her girlfriend.

Actually, for a woman who hadn’t even been allowed to have a boy in her room at Toni’s age, Willow was pretty cool about all these things. At least Willow trusted her not to let Mal jump on her and do the thing.

Or to jump on him – she was young woman in charge of her own sexuality; she could do the jumping if she wanted to. These days it was probably expected… Did Mal expect that of her? Was that what he was waiting for? Her to make all the moves?

Well, if he was waiting for her to jump him – he was going to be disappointed.

“What’s wrong?” she typed, without giving it back. Instead she carried on. “The court’s looking 4 my Mom, who I h8. My Dad’s dead. I can’t get u to use ur fingers right. Not ur fault. And the lesbians I live with don’t trust me not to let u” She deleted the last few words. Back to “…don’t trust me.”

He took the laptop from her and read it, then they left it between them. “Yeah, but none of that’s different to last night and u weren’t stressed then. Is it a woman-time thing?”

She saw him start to reach for the delete key and took the laptop from him before he had chance to delete anything, then slapped his arm. Hard. “No. Not a woman-time thing! U’d know if it was woman-time thing. I wouldn’t be as sweet and patient as I’m being now.”

Rubbing his arm he slowly typed one handed. “I know about it now! Sweet and patient? What’s bugging u?”

Oh… to get him signing. Really signing instead of missing words out and typing everything that mattered or was more complex than a baby could manage.

Perhaps an incentive based program would work. It was, as she’d already concluded, good to feel wanted. It felt good to be with him; good to know he wanted to be with her. Maybe that they’d both want more – sooner rather than later. More didn’t have to mean everything.

It certainly wouldn’t mean everything.

Definitely wouldn’t mean everything.

But more would still be good. The way she was feeling about him and hoped he was feeling about her, they were probably ready for a tiny step towards the 'more' thing.

But she couldn’t tell him that could she? She couldn’t be the one to take that step. He’d think she was ‘easy’ or worse. What had Daddy said about ‘easy’ girls? ‘Boy’s spend time with her, but they won’t stay with her.’

Besides that wasn’t what was wrong. Mal was right – there was something else that was new… aside from worrying about whether were friends or they were boy and girlfriends. Where he was wrong was that it had been bugging her when they chatted online the night before.

One out of two for Mister Observant.

It was just fresher in her mind today, with what Tara and Willow had been doing when she came. Planning their futures. Again. Ever since Willow had opened her offers up, that was what they’d been worried and talking about all the time.

That didn’t bug her.

But they were inevitably planning their futures without her. Post-grad school – anywhere but here in Sunnydale – was going to mean they left her behind, and everyone already knew Rupert and Jenny couldn’t really fit her into their place. Not with Faith and Ben there already, and the latter not far off toddling under his own steam.

So then it’d be ‘So long Toni, nice to have known you. I’m sure the foster home is real nice till your bitch Mom turns up and comes to get you.’ She had what? A couple of months? Four at the most?

And the worst thing was she couldn’t blame them for it. She wanted to, sometimes in the last few days she’d really wanted to blame them.

But she couldn’t.

Much as she might’ve felt angry, like they just didn’t get her, a few times while she’d been here she knew better than that. It only took a few moments thought to realise.

All they’d done, starting with saving her life when they hadn’t had to do anything at all. Even after they’d rescued her from being hunted by that blonde vampire they could’ve done what everyone else would and let her be taken in by the state or county social services.

But they hadn’t – and not because of anything she’d said or done. In fact, looking back on those early days, she’d probably made it difficult enough for them to have provoked being put into care.

And they hadn’t done the most obvious thing in the world – getting rid of her.

She couldn’t be mad at them. She was just mad at things. Stuff. Life, the way it’d turned out for her and her Dad. So yeah, there was something else on her mind right now, Mal was right about that. But she didn’t want him worrying about that too. She definitely didn’t want him thinking maybe she wouldn’t be around too long.

Even if it might’ve given him a hurry up.

If he didn’t think she’d be around, would he even bother with her? He was her friend, he’d probably keep chatting to her online – but would he bother to learn her language, so they could be around each other?

Maybe he would… Maybe they were already close enough.

“What do u like about me?” she typed, feeling she was taking a huge risk. She was pretending this was what was on her mind – and it was… Then showed him the signs after he’d read the screen.

He didn’t even react to the question, and what it really meant. He didn’t even blush – and it was easy to make Mal blush. Instead he came back with “I can listen to any music I like while we do our assignments.”

“U’ve been listening to music?” she asked. No wonder he wasn’t concentrating. Couldn’t have been very loud though, she’d have felt it.

*Yes,* he told her without typing, smiling widely as if he wanted praise for getting that single word right.

Not much of an achievement really, especially when all you had to do was nod to get the same effect. Still, he was happy to have signed at all and it was progress. Okay, so he thought he was doing well? She slipped back into her full speed sign, and watched as his eyes danced around after them, trying to keep up with her.

She could say anything she liked to him, and he wasn’t going to get more than a few of the simplest words.

Once again it felt good to get it out, even if there was no one to see and understand her.

Frustration had boiled over from within her, she hadn’t realised she had so much she wanted to get said – or at least ranted. His admission about listening to music while they studied shouldn’t have bothered her at all – she didn’t care what he heard – but somehow it’d set her off.

The question about where they were, where Tara and Willow were and what’d happen then… all of it came out.

While the tension eased, Mal’s bemusement just grew. At first he looked like he was actually trying to tell what she was saying. Then he started to protest about it – out loud of all the dumb things to do – before he tried to take her hands and still them for a moment to get a word in.

Toni barely broke her rhythm as she slapped his restraining hand away – but not too hard – and kept on going. Letting it all flood out. She went on… About her Mom, about court. About Tara and Willow again. Then back to him and them and where they weren’t going. Where she wished they would.

And he didn’t understand… so she ranted about that too – slapping her hands together when the words called for it, so hard they started to tingle.

When she finally stopped the laptop screen was already waiting for her, he’d been typing while she went on and on. But bless him… he’d never taken his eyes from her for long. So he didn’t understand… but he’d ‘listened’ anyway.

And she had to admit she’d gone on a bit.

“WTF was that?” the winking cursor highlighted the question, a smiley face followed it.

WTF? Oh yeah, he was such a bad boy.

A bad boy who’d been sat in his room ‘chatting’ on the internet for too long… And what, precisely, had she been doing while he was chatting? She was chatting right back at him. *And u’ve turned me into a damn g33k* she finished with the sign.

“Again – WTF was that?” Mal repeated on the keyboard, seeming amused by her.

He wasn’t supposed to be amused, he was supposed to be supportive or failing that bemused. Attentive was good enough though – and he was that.

“Venting,” she typed and then showed him the best way to sign the word.

“All done?” he asked.

“Pretty much,” she typed.

“So what were u saying?”

The conversation on the laptop, without the benefit of a chat facility just read like a stream of consciousness as she looked back at what they’d already said. Did she mean stream of consciousness?

Yeah, that was what they’d called it in class, when all the thoughts ran together. ‘Cept this was a schizoid one, like one person talking to herself and asking herself questions.

They’d have to save the document. It was a posterior thing, so they could look back on it. Did she mean posterior?

On the other hand if she did save it… certain curious red-heads might not be able to help themselves if they found that file on what was admittedly Willow’s laptop. But that was what passwords were for. Toni cheerfully added one and saved it as ‘Leave me alone.doc’ in a remote part of the directory structure.

Yeah Willow, go seek.

Show me how much you respect my privacy when there’s a challenge for you.

“Lots of stuff,” she typed. “Stuff that’s got me pissed.”

He just nodded after reading the one line summary of several minutes of high-speed sign.

“You’re supposed to ask ‘what?’” she told him a few moments later – when he’d made no sign to do so.

“I already did,” he pointed out. “And you already probably said it all. Just too fast and all in sign. Anyway, I do notice things.”

“Like what?” she asked, doubting it… he seemed to have the ability to be blind and dumb when he wanted to be. She just hated the fact she found it endearing and innocent.

“Like the way you’ve been looking at me,” he said. “What’s that in sign?”

She showed him, correcting his first few attempts until he slowly, hesitantly got it. Her mind was whirling so much, reacting to him – maybe – bringing it up, that she’d actually shown him the wrong thing at first.

“How’ve I been looking at U?” she asked after they’d practised.

“Weird,” he said with a big grin.

She liked his smiles. His lips were a big part of his smiles and his lips… she could’ve done to explore his lips a little.

He was such a slow coach. They were here, right here, together. Couldn’t he see that after venting all that frustration they should make use of him actually being here and not on the end of a computer across town?

Make use of Tara still having a little while before she’d get back… and Willow’s probably not looking in on them again?

“U saying I’m weird.”

“No. I think u r looking at me weird. I’m saying u r special. No wait, that sounds bad. U R” he paused waiting for the word to come. “I like you a lot,” he typed. “You know. In that way.”

She could sense his frustration at how the keyboard didn’t say what he meant, and he wasn’t used to his mouth being disconnected from his expression – making him look goofy when he tried to support the typed words.

Goofy or not though.

He’d only said it. Hadn’t he? Didn’t he mean what she’d wanted him to mean and say? And now that he had what was she supposed to do? Say what she meant and wanted to say? Did she dare?

“Well I like U too,” she typed her heart racing faster than it would after a two mile run at pace. “And u’r still weird.”

They paused, eyes meeting and Toni thought it was going to happen then. She thought it was the perfect moment, the perfect time. They’d just said it – kind of. He’d lean in and she’d lean in and their lips would meet and it would all be perfect and she’d have herself a real boyfriend and the rest of the stuff wouldn’t matter because she’d be kissing.

It’d never seemed that important too her before. Not having a boyfriend, certainly not the kissing thing. It’d always seemed like it, the boy thing, would get in the way of training and school and having fun with her friends.

Now… something was different.

She supposed here, Mal was her friend. Her only real friend. Sure there were her guardians, their kids and ‘family’ they all formed – and they were great but Mal was her only friend. He wasn’t getting in the way of anyone or anything else here. And if anything she was making him train more than he had done when she took him out running with her.

She was helping the team! Even though she was only thinking of that now…

Maybe Tara and Willow would even let him take a shower here… Maybe she’d get to see just how buff he really was. Accidentally of course! Maybe Mal in towel could be interesting…

Maybe he’d just kiss her!

But he didn’t, instead of that he started to type again.

Toni let out all the breath she’d been holding in frustration.

She’d been ready, really ready for that to be the moment when they did. If she tried to rationalise why she felt this way – why it was different now like she had a moment ago – the reasons might’ve been true, but they didn’t tell her why she felt like this.

Everything she should’ve be afraid of with a boy she wasn’t afraid of with Mal. He wouldn’t go boasting to his friends. He’d never try to take things anywhere she didn’t want them to go. He’d never lie and say they had when they hadn’t.

He’d never push – probably because he knew she’d kick his ass for that and any of the other things. Oh yes, he knew that. So did his friends.

But couldn’t they just be kissing already?

Was she too strong? Too ready to kick his ass? Was he afraid of it or was he afraid of her? Was he even afraid?

Was she?

Toni didn’t know whether she was afraid it’d happen or afraid it wouldn’t. Or both.

“Is this it?” Mal had typed when she finally looked down. Breaking the gaze that – when it had been eye contact – seemed to her to have been pulling their lips together felt like… Breaking it felt like giving up.

“It?” she had to ask, hating herself for typing too. Not because she wanted him to be signing, but because typing wasn’t kissing. The moment just seemed further away than ever as she asked him the question. Further than it had been before he’d come over, even if it was closer than it’d ever been.

So near and yet… not happening.

She had to ask though – what he’d thought was about to happen? So she typed the words.

He made a kissing gesture with his lips and she had to fight not to laugh as the absurdity broke the tension, or at least cracked it. He looked so stupid doing that – kissing nothing. He hoped that if he was kissing her he wouldn’t look like that.

But then it was all she wanted. Her body, her mind, everything had been primed for their lips to meet and it not happening was like losing a race… all the adrenaline melted away and just left her feeling crap.

She hated to lose. She was really, really bad at losing.

And this felt like losing.

“Could be,” she typed and returned to showing him the signs. Signing, for once, felt like giving up too, because it still wasn’t the thing with lips. Even when they were kinda talking about that. “Depends what u think ‘it’ is.”

Let him think she was suspicious of his motives, of what he wanted. She’d have been shocked if he had been suggesting anything more. But this was part of the whole ‘bad at losing’ thing. She’d lost – so let him suffer just a little. Let him realise this was what happened when she lost.

“Oh. No. Not THAT. Just…” he did his air kiss again. Somehow he didn’t seem able to type the word.

“You wanted to?” she asked, equally unable to type it. Typing it would leave a permanent record and what if he meant… Well, what if he meant practising CPR or something?

As if. It looked as much like CPR as the kiss she hoped it was supposed to be.

“If u do.”

*Mal, please just kiss me,* she signed. It was easier to say it that way than put it on the screen.

*What?* he asked. His most useful sign so far.

She took his hands, showing how to make the signs for what she’d said and then pulled one to her cheek, rubbing it against his palm, looking him in the eyes. Sometimes a girl just had to take what she wanted to get the win.

Then she kissed his palm, nervous and afraid but wanting it anyway. And she could have it. With a hand on the back of his neck she pulled him in towards her.

And their lips met.

And it was all Oh my god. I’m really kissing.

----------------

[Katharyn]

Part 191 - section 2 of 3

-----------

Willow moved quietly through the apartment, from the living area where she’d been working on one of her last assignments through to the hallway and onwards towards the door.

Magic eased her way in silence, the thickened air beneath her feet preventing even the sounds of bare skin against the wooden floor in the hallway. Should she be the one sneaking around to avoid being heard by Toni’s boyfriend?

Passing Toni’s room she paused, laying her hand on the door and closing her eyes. Thinking.

It wasn’t eavesdropping, because there was nothing to hear.

It wasn’t spying, because there was nothing to see.

It was… checking in.

Showing parental concern, which was what she was all about. She was so the parental concern girl.

If she’d just wanted to do this she needn’t have come out here at all, not in order to know. To those sensitive to it – and sensitive to Toni in particular – the churning emotions coming from the girls room had been difficult not to sense even while she was trying to finish her paper on the implications of artificial intelligence.

Now that wasn’t checking in, it was having an emotionally noisy teenager in the apartment. Not that any of them could help their emotions.

A few minutes ago those emotions had taken a turn for the better.

It didn’t worry her.

At least not much.

Toni wouldn’t do anything stupid, but maybe the girl had gotten to do something that wasn’t so stupid and just what she’d probably wanted. Somehow, if it was true, Willow felt good about that.

She well remembered what she’d been interested in – romantically – at Toni’s age. And what she’d wanted to do about it too.

And she very well remembered where she’d kissed Xander Harris for the first time, the circumstances. It had been after he said he loved her.

Just before they’d both died for the first time.

He’d loved her like a friend and they’d faced death perhaps a touch easier because they hadn’t been alone when it happened.

Toni’s experience would be better – Willow was certain of that. There didn’t seem to be any way it could be worse.

She let her hand fall from the door, but fancied she could hear the sounds of lips against each other. Maybe that was just what she wanted to hear though.

But the reason she was out here wasn’t because of Toni, certainly not to sneak around and spy on the girl. No, she’d been able to feel Tara’s return.

Their connection as strong as ever, Tara’s approach couldn’t have been concealed from her – though Willow was withholding her feelings about Toni and Mal from her girlfriend right now. She’d put a firm lid on it and while Tara might sense she was doing so, her girlfriend wouldn’t know what ‘it’ was about should she happen to stretch out and sense her emotions.

The simple fact was Willow didn’t want her woman disturbing Mal and Toni – not even just by opening the front door loudly. In part because the last thing they wanted was for Toni to start sneaking around to see Mal… and who knew where that might lead, and in part for Toni herself.

Naturally Tara was going to freak out, but Willow had a sure fire way to distract her from over-reacting. Especially being as Tara already knew she’d be overreacting.

And Toni could owe her one.

Waiting at the open apartment door for her lover, Willow got to see the reaction that gesture brought. A wide smile that held infinite promise. As Tara always did.

Willow made the universal gesture for silence. Shhh. Then she stayed in sign language as Tara started to react, wondering if something was wrong and there was a something bad to kill in the apartment. *It’s okay,* Willow told her before the stake was halfway out of Tara’s coat pocket.

*Then what?*

*Toni. Mal.* It was all the explanation she apparently needed to give.

Tara opened her mouth to say something, and Willow knew it’d be the wrong move so she tapped her fingers. Sign only please.

*Baby, please don’t be saying what I think you’re saying.*

Tara was looking at her as if it was her fault. Maybe it was, maybe she hadn’t disturbed them enough. Tough. She remembered herself, fifteen years old and bitterly disappointed every time Xander left without being more than her friend.

Not that her Dad had let him into her bedroom after the age of fourteen anyway. Ira had always had firm ideas about that sort of thing. It was part of the reason she wanted to show trust in Toni and Mal now.

*I’m saying Toni’s a girl, he’s a boy and she’s big enough to make up her own mind about things. And we trust her right?* She asked the question at the end to bring Tara back to where they’d been before this happened.

They wanted to trust Toni. They did trust Toni.

She looked at Tara. No response.

*Right?* Willow asked again. *We told her that – wasn’t it true?*

Tara started towards her, ready to come inside, but Willow pointed to the ground, or rather to the invisible cushion of thickened air beneath her feet. Tara sighed and seemed to get a little taller. Just a little bit.

*Can I come in now?* her girlfriend asked as she was still blocking the way.

*As long as you promise not to go charging in there?* Willow replied, feeling kind of sassy for making such demands on Toni’s unknowing behalf. Yeah, sassy was a good way of thinking about it. She was giving sass. She was a… Sassette.

*I promise* Tara signed. *So can I come in now?*

*Only after you kiss me,* Willow replied with a sly smile. Sassy and Sexy… Was she a Sexette too? No, she’d stick with Sassette.

*You made me forget all about that,* Tara told her and leaned in for a long lingering kiss. The kind where even when you parted you were still connected. The kind of kiss that wasn’t the least bit sassy, but was every bit sexy, sensual and loving. The kind where the hands that held you melted into your body and became a part of you.

But not literally…

At least not yet. Later… who knew?

Unable to do anything but smile as they separated, she waved her permission for Tara to go inside and followed her down the hall after carefully closing the door. Whatever Toni and Mal were doing she wasn’t going to let them be disturbed.

Not even by Tara, light of her life.

She watched as Tara paused just outside Toni’s door, but she knew her girlfriend wasn’t about to go barging in. Whether Tara was doing what she’d done, sensing the emotions their guest would still be feeling, she couldn’t be sure – but she didn’t think so. If anything she’d just be trying to listen – in passing…

When it came to magic Tara was more concerned with the issue of privacy, even when it came to reading a persons aura. That was something Willow considered to be a simple matter of seeing what was there with their available senses, bit not to Tara. Without being asked to do so, Tara thought of it as a breach of privacy.

It was a philosophical debate they’d had more than once.

Why not use your mystical senses if you had them? To do otherwise was like choosing to put your hands over your ears and go ‘lalalalala.’ Okay, sometimes you wanted to do the ‘lalalala’ thing, but most of the time you wanted to use the senses you possessed.

Naturally when lives were at stake Tara was much more flexible and pragmatic – as she always was – but where would curiosity lead her? To breaking her own code of ethics? She already knew the answer – but she wanted the reassurance of knowing she was right about it. To save Toni’s life Tara would’ve done it in a heartbeat. But to, in some sense, peek into the girls emotions? No, Tara wouldn’t do that.

She wouldn’t have minded if Tara had ‘peeked’ at the emotional equivalent of big red flag Toni was waving – she’d just done the same thing herself. But if Tara did do it, then her world would’ve been set ever so slightly askew. It was just nice to know that the world wasn’t askew.

Not that she particularly wanted it to be ‘straight’ either… ‘Bent’ was just fine with her, but not askew.

Willow opened herself to the flow of the magic and sensed…. Nothing but the persistent, dull pulse of the Hellmouth, the presence of the magical woman she loved and whatever was happening out in the world.

Nothing else except for her lover sensing her in turn.

Tara turned, smiled and admonished her in sign, *Oh ye of little faith.*

*Come on, before Toni comes out and finds us here,* Willow insisted, not even acknowledging that proving to herself that Tara wasn’t turning into a sneak made sure everything was right in the world. And the temptation – as Willow well knew – was pretty large when Toni was broadcasting her emotions this loudly.

But if Toni found them here… there wasn’t any way they’d ever convince the girl they hadn’t been spying on her – even if they hadn’t actually walked in and interrupted.

And especially as they did have much better ways to do the spying thing if they’d really wanted to.

What if she’d let Tara go ahead and do what she wanted – stopping Toni and Mal from doing… well, anything? She fancied that all her girlfriend would’ve actually done was make her presence very obvious. Just enough to disturb anything that might stand a chance of going a bit too far. They’d knocked and walked in enough times in the past to make both Toni and Mal wary of it.

Also Toni knew Tara well enough by now to understand how she’d feel about something like that.

Hopefully by being wary enough, it would encourage a little sense even if it would otherwise have deserted the two teenagers. That’d always been the plan – but she still didn’t believe it was necessary. Willow couldn’t think of anyone – at least anyone who was straight – who seemed less likely to sleep with a boy at this stage in her life than Toni.

Besides, they were getting good at embarrassing the girl too. Sometimes just being obviously close with each other would do the job. No one wanted parental figures that were doing that – and making sure other people saw it. Whatever ‘that’ might be.

Willow was sure she’d almost walked in on her Mom and Dad years before… doing… doing the love thing. The idea still made them shudder. She was sure there had to be some of that in Toni.

While Toni could deal with their physical intimacy – but nothing more than kisses and hands in interesting places - the girl definitely didn’t wouldn’t want Mal to see the same things. Toni had gotten used to it because it was one thing about themselves they couldn’t change for her, but Mal was a different matter.

If a kiss and a wandering hand would keep them in line, who was Willow to deny herself? It was Tara after all.

Her girlfriend came towards her as she backed off down the hall and Willow fancied she could see the moment, as well as hear it, when Tara descended that fraction of a centimetre to walk on the carpet rather than the cushion of air that had kept them silent.

Of course she was showing off by stepping off it, she’d been using that trick twice as long as Willow had, she could do that – transition in step. Willow usually felt she needed to stop first and gently ‘fall’ the fraction of a centimetre. Tara, on the other hand, stepped off the cushion and allowed it to disperse afterwards.

“Now what?” Tara said softly as they went into the living area.

“You can tell me about your hunt?” she suggested.

“I could.”

“But you don’t want to?” Willow checked.

“Oh, it was Dull City USA,” Tara told her, and that was the end of that.

“Good,” Willow said, satisfied with another safe night and another night without evidence of serious vampire – or other – activity. “So what shall we do?”

“Oh,” Tara said as she slipped into the cushion and bean-bag pile in the corner, struggling to unfasten the laces of her shoes without sprawling with the lack of support. “I meant to tell you. Farley’s has the most beautiful shawl in the window.”

Shawl?

And ‘what shall we do’ was supposed to be suggestive… But wait a second…

“That would be in the window, behind the security shutters?” Willow checked. How could Tara have seen it? Or had she spied it earlier and been waiting to tell her?

“Doesn’t stop it being beautiful,” Tara said. “You’re still beautiful when you’re in here, locked away and I’m outside.”

There was that, but she wasn’t getting past the “It’s a shawl,” thing right now. Was Tara serious? She’d be sewing quilts and spinning wool next. A shawl??

“So?” Tara asked.

Willow flopped down on another of the beanbags, not so far from Tara. But far enough to look dramatic when she turned on her side to confront her girlfriend over this. “So, it’s a shawl. What do you want a shawl for? Shawling?”

“No, it’s not for me,” Tara corrected, offering her a foot to help with the problematic shoes.

“Jenny?” Willow had to check, even though she’d suspected the answer before she’d even opened her mouth.

“Uh, uh.”

“Me?” she asked, aghast at the idea.

“Willow, don’t be so judgemental. It’d look wonderful with your black dress. It shimmers when it catches the light,” Tara said.

Great… “So I can shimmer while I’m shawling?” Willow joked, helping Tara pull her shoes off and using a just a little magic to place them carefully in the opposite corner of the room. For once Tara didn’t even frown at the casual and unnecessary use of the power. “Some people might call me a witch, but do I look eighty?”

“Eighty year olds don’t have shimmering shawls! Not like this” Tara told her firmly. “And they don’t look hot in black dresses like you do either. But to answer your question, no, you don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

“You bitch!” Willow laughed, tickling her lover’s now bare feet as her revenge. Served her right for not taking them away fast enough. Did Tara really think she wanted a shawl? A non-animal product pashmina perhaps, or maybe a wrap. But a shawl???

On the other hand, if it hadn’t been called a ‘shawl’ would she even have been bothered?

“Stop it,” Tara threatened as she squirmed, her butt digging its way through the cushions to the floor. Her flailing gave Willow some pleasantly tempting views up into the shadows inside that skirt too... What could she say, everything about Tara turned her on… especially the things that were normally hidden from the world.

But never hidden from her.

It was all about the hotness that was Tara Maclay.

She sighed, and paused in her tickles for a moment – but holding onto the foot. “No, you said I looked twenty-five and you want me to wear a shawl!” Teasing like this she could do without. But Tara, infinitely ticklish when you knew where to get her, was already getting her comeuppance.

Without the coming part.

At least not yet.

She applied another burst to the sensitive arch of Tara’s foot.

“Stop it!” her lover complained, thrashing around.

“Then kiss me, and say you’re sorry,” Willow challenged, still holding the foot but not doing anything more for now.

“Don’t you have a paper to write?” Tara said, trying to change the subject and at the same time still trying to get her foot out of the danger zone.

“No. All done. Say ‘sorry’ and kiss me.”

“You know I’ll always kiss you, but I’ll never apologise for the truth!” Tara laughed, finally plucking her foot from Willow’s grasp.

“Oh, now you’re for it,” Willow said as Tara scrabbled deeper into the cushions to back away from her. “Now you’re really for it.”

“I’m such a bad girl,” Tara admitted with that sweetly shy smile she knew how to give so well. The trouble was she only pretended to be innocent these days compared to when Willow had first known her.

In how many ways had Tara lost her innocence? Only as many as me…

Willow followed and cornered her lover… shifting to her hands and knees to stalk her like Miss Kitty would. And to extend her arms to either side of Tara, hovering over her and preventing her from going anywhere. Not that Tara wanted to. “Okay, just kiss me, and we’ll call it even.”

Their lips met as Tara’s legs came up, firm against her own – one foot rising higher as if to come behind her to the small of her back. Only then was Willow aware of the polite little cough from behind her, and they parted lips reluctantly to turn and see Mal looking down at them from the doorway and beside him Toni frowning. “Miss Maclay, Miss Rosenberg - ”

“Mal,” Tara warned, “we’ve been through this.” The warning about what he called them was phrased just as it would’ve been if Tara had been stood there in front of him. Instead of… well… instead of this.

But Mal didn’t correct himself. “I just wanted to say good night,” he told them, polite as ever. “I have to be going now.”

Tara looked at her, she looked at Tara.

“Bye Mal,” they said together, both giving him a little wave before they slipped into laughter at Toni’s reaction, guiding him firmly out of the room, hand in hand. As they were laughing Tara’s foot did come up behind her, pulling her down on top of the beautiful woman who was hers – lips crushed together for a few more seconds.

“You see that?” Willow asked, trying to keep from just lying on Tara.

“He left,” Tara replied. “Later than he should – but without prompting.”

“They were holding hands,” Willow focused on what had been the key thing for her.

“They’ve held hands before,” Tara said, not sounding convinced at the emphasis.

“But never knowing because we were looking – I think she was sending us a message – they both were,” Willow concluded, wondering all the same whether, perhaps, Toni just wanted to hold hands with him as Tara seemed to think.

“He called me Miss Maclay. Again.” Tara didn’t sound too happy.

“He called me Miss Rosenberg,” Willow countered, but that brought them back to Tara saying she looked old. Twenty-five?

“I promise I’ll pick that shawl up for you tomorrow,” Tara promised, and Willow knew she would now. It was a joke – but it was coming her way too.

She even knew she’d probably love it too; Tara was a better judge of what looked good on her than she was… but then the reverse was also true. Neither of them were too hot at dressing themselves. When you came down to it, they had a bad wardrobe. But bad wardrobe or not, she was too young to have a shawl. Waaay too young.

She could be twice her age and still too young for a shawl.

“Miss Rosenberg,” Tara completed.

“Oh, you bitch!” Willow cried, and relaxed her arms, lying firmly on Tara to prevent any escape – holding her hands out on the cushions and forcing her girlfriend’s lips into another kiss that lasted long enough for Toni to have left Mal and come back into the room.

Willow twisted her head – cheek to cheek with Tara doing the same thing. Toni was
looking a little dishevelled.

But then they probably did too.

Their guest looked at them, accusing with her eyes.

*What?* they asked together.

*This place is getting more and more like staying with Jenny every time he comes over,* Toni said.

Tara struggled to free her hands to reply, but Willow got there first – she hadn’t finished with the hot Miss Maclay yet. *Hot lesbian action on the floor?* she wondered. *I never noticed it up there, I’m sure I would’ve done.*

Tara snorted into her neck, chest heaving as she chuckled. But it’d been heaving a few moments before too.

Toni just pulled a face, even though Willow could tell she’d gotten the joke, and left them to it. “Something I said?” she asked her girlfriend, trapped beneath her. Tara shrugged.

So what was that complaint supposed to mean? Other than ‘mission accomplished?’ If Toni was putting them on Jenny’s level of ‘embarrassing’ behaviour, they were definitely doing something right.

But in more fun and sexy ways… at least Willow imagined so. There was definitely not going to be as much hot lesbo rolling around on the floor action at the Giles residence. Not unless Jenny had been keeping something – or someone – very close to her chest.

Nah, they had the hot lesbo action all tied up.

Now to tackle Tara about that allegation of reaching her quarter century though. Yeah, right… who was the elder of the two of them?

Oh yeah, that was right…

Tara Maclay, sassy woman.

----------------------------

[Katharyn]

Part 191 - section 3 of 3.

-------------------

Ethan stood at the water treatment works, looking down at the bubbling water below him – trying to ignore the smell of the sewage plant only a few hundred meters away.

But it was the outgoing, clean water he was interested in. Turbulent, unpredictable. It was impossible to judge where any one bubble would go, where it would burst… or which would persist and for how long.

In truth the bubbling water was a macrocosm of Chaos at work in the universe.

It was the one truth of the universe.

The truth, it was often said, could set a person free.

In Ethan’s experience the real ‘truth’ was that people were often wrong.

What people said could be positively harmful – as the truth could also be. The truth, if you were a person taking risks against the spirit and letter of the law – not to mention so-called moral behaviour – was more likely lead to incarceration.

Or worse.

And then even then the truth wasn’t likely to help you very much.

The legal systems of most of the world were predisposed towards the reality that it was better never to have been locked up in the first place, rather than waiting for the ‘truth’ to get you out of the prisons of the oppressive system. They’d actually keep you locked up for longer for refusing to admit the guilt they presumed you had then they would for acknowledging it.

Legal and moral systems never liked to be proved wrong and they’d fight against being so judged – no matter what the truth was, and how obvious it might be. Once they’d made a decision it had to be right – otherwise the system wasn’t working.

And if the system wasn’t working why were the people who created, maintained and imposed the system even necessary?

It was a question he had an easy answer for.

The system wasn’t necessary at all. Now there was the only truth that would set you free.

Still – he had to live with the systems of the human world for now. Chaos would take them all in the end, but he’d rather be bringing Chaos to the masses than expecting it sometime after he’d been reduced to dust.

Though at least, as dust, he’d still be at the whim of blessed Chaos.

Chaos wasn’t likely to free a person anytime soon – except perhaps mentally. Accepting the power of Chaos was… he had to say it was genuinely liberating. Once you accepted that the world didn’t have to be the way that it was – and all of ‘civilization’ was just a wink of the cosmic eye – you’re mindset did change for the better.

They treasured their truth’s so much? They all believed in their systems? Their relationships and their laws?

He trickled a little more of the self-propagating mixture into the water supply. He was proud of this one. A harmless little life-form present in every drop of drinking water for billions of years… he’d managed to improve them. To give them, through this little mixture he’d created a wonderful new talent.

They fostered the truth and nothing but the truth… So help me god..

Well, let the people of Sunnydale all discover a little about the real power and nature of truth in their world. Perhaps it’d help them come to see the one, real, truth of the universe. Chaos.

Or not… the human mind rebelled against the nature of the universe – that was what had made humans so self-delusionary about the world they inhabited.

No delusions in the next twenty four hours or so. He was seeing to it. One night of truth… For some people perhaps it would be the only night of truth in their sad little existences. He was expecting great things from this. They all treasured the concept of ‘truth’ so much…

People around here were going to realise just what the truth was really capable of. Self-delusion was the biggest lie of them all and one in which he rarely chose to indulge in. The ‘truth’ was that most people were caught in permanent nightmares of their own creation.

Permanent partner, just as bored of you as you were of them.

Permanent 2.4 mallrats who probably despised you more than you did them, but certainly bled you dry in a much a crueller way than any vampire ever could.

Permanent job adjusting the priorities of worthless systems that supported other systems and kept the entire world shackled in convention and dull order.

And even permanent homes – at least in the sense they were financially committed to the place they lived for life. And the worst thing was that when they didn’t have any one of those things, they all wanted them. Society had deluded them into believing it was what a person should want.

And they wanted it because society told them to.

Those without those things couldn’t see the truth – that they were – at least in part – living a blessedly free life.

And those who lost any part of it… they were depressed. Some of them even chose to escape from the horror… The horror of liberation! Society had taught them to see the lack of constraint, of restriction and of systems as a tragedy. What did every parent want for their child?

A parent would answer that question with ‘happiness’ but what was happiness defined as?

Partner.

Mallrats.

Job.

Home.

Happiness wasn’t really any of those things, or any combination of them. How happy were most people when they achieved them? Then they wanted a bigger, better home. More kids – probably with other partners. A better job. They were so tied into the system that even when they had what they wanted they wanted more.

Happiness was freedom.

Freedom from the systems and constructs that imprisoned those who’d conformed. And the punishment for those who didn’t conform…? Disapproval at the least. Persecution and death at the worst.

And so the sheep were deluding themselves quite happily. Their world entrapped them and they were comfortable in their mental prisons.

They were so determined to preserve the shackles that bound them that they’d fight wars to spread their chains to others. They’d fight to keep their own chains on and against anyone, like him, who wanted to remove them. It was ridiculous. So much so, when they were released, they’d practically demand to be locked up again. To rush back into the fold.

Sheep was the right word for them. One sheep went one way, not really knowing where it was going or why, and every other sheep followed it because the one out front had to know something they didn’t.

It was all very sad and it made him despair of the human condition.

No, wait – that wasn’t right.

Actually he really didn’t care because he wasn’t part of the system that said he should do.

At least except in as much as he could know he was much better off than the rest of them. If the sheep hadn’t all been there, how could he have compared himself to them and known how well he was doing?

And he was better off.

Apart from a contract that committed him to performing certain actions by certain deadlines – and a constant danger of becoming certain parties’ dinner – he was free. Free and being paid an obscene amount of money that would support his activities for a few years in this structured economic system he found himself living within.

One day he might again be able to bring a hint or two of chaos to that structured system though.

But the rest of his time was his own and his main task – which was stretching his abilities, knowledge and making him an all round better agent of his God’s unpredictability – was proceeding quite nicely.

‘Quite nicely’? My, how very English. He might as well change his name to Rupert and start cutting the cucumber sandwiches into triangles if he was going to think like that.

It was an accurate description of his progress though. He wouldn’t have changed a thing about how everything was proceeding, at least not now he was here and relieving the tediousness of staying out of the way of vampires, witches, a rather attractive teacher and a tweed wearing librarian.

Librarians. He’d never liked them. They’d made him queasy even at University, but he’d told himself he’d respect Ripper’s choice. Especially after the whole Eygon thing. It’d seemed reasonable for a few minutes to settle down. Then he’d sobered up and screamed something like ‘Ripper? You’re going to do what with your life???!!’

The whole thing had been like a bad magic trip. In the aftermath of the Eygon situation not only had Ripper got serious, and started to attend lectures again… but he’d decided to become a librarian?

At one point he’d had high hopes Ripper might join him in the worship of Chaos, but Ripper didn’t really exist anymore.

Could Ripper be someone who was taught to be a librarian? To impose systems on knowledge, on the books they professed to treasure. Ethan had never met a librarian who treasured books – they just treasured the system. The collection as a whole – not the parts within it except in as much as they were part of the whole.

Why did anyone need to go to college to be taught how to line books up anyway? It was the alphabet. Most people had the figured out in primary school – if not before. There were TV shows full of Muppets devoted to the subject. But then they spent three years teaching you to be a librarian? There was ‘science of the library’?

What was a collection of books for other than to be left in a casual disorder that only made sense to the person who put the book there? Chaos was made for libraries, which had the potential to be places of such great power. Where knowledge congregated, and seekers of knowledge, power gathered too. Sometimes, like Alexandria, it reached a critical mass and opened a gateway to another dimension and threatened to destroy itself.

Somehow he thought that the Dewey classification system was a way to prevent that happening again.

For all anyone knew the Hellmouths of the world might be where the ancient places of learning had once stood. Without the benefit of a classification system.

He’d almost wept the time Ripper had come home to the flat they’d been sharing at the time and told him about his choice. How the potentially mighty had fallen. Now he was not only a librarian, in tweed, but a do-gooder too? It just had to be Chaos theory at work – though no one had known it at the time.

Sexy wife though. He was going to pay them a visit soon too – there were things that needed to be said, and he was sure they knew he’d been around.

But not yet, first they were going to have a nice little, truthful, talk together. Everyone in this town was. Without holding anything back.

Everyone except, perhaps, the vampires. But then they weren’t drinking the water. Would the blood be tainted by what he was doing?

It wasn’t as if they lied much anyway – vampires rarely had the need to.

Even the Witches should be affected – he couldn’t think of a single reason they wouldn’t be. The power he was using was at such a low level… imbuing a miniscule natural creature that was a part of practically everything the consumed water with a subtle chemical change.

There was barely anything magical about it.

He’d been avoiding them, of course. Their connection with Mr and Mrs Ripper made that all the more important. He was sure they were all interested in speaking to him – and Miss Maclay had seen him, in the flesh so to speak, when she’d caught him following her.

He was hoping they might’ve assumed he’d had his fun and left town again. Certainly that was what Ripper would expect. It was what he’d always done before. He hoped that was how they all saw it.

Ordinarily the idea of a couple of young, attractive lesbians – not to mention the delicious Jenny Giles – seeking him out would’ve been one of those moments in life to treasure. The problem was being found by these particular young, attractive lesbians – and the delicious Jenny Giles – would result in a most spectacular kicking of his ass.

At best.

So the vampires probably wouldn’t be affected, but the Witches would. Perhaps a night of uncontrolled truth would benefit the human pair; he couldn’t see it’d make any difference to the demons anyway.

Drusilla and Darla hadn’t drawn too much attention to themselves since they’d come back here – something he was glad about as it might have revealed their connection to him. If Ripper and the Witches were looking out for such things.

And, let’s face it, they’d been looking out for just that sort of thing for years now.

The vampires had been willing, if not actually content, to wait for him to gift them all the power the Master had ever called his own.

At least Darla was.

Perhaps she’d learned patience – she’d certainly learned to hide better.

Drusilla, in her own way, might’ve already been more powerful than the Master had ever been. Prescience, albeit limited and bound by the shackles of madness, was a greater tool than faith in prophecy, which could just as easily be misinterpreted as read correctly.

Blind faith in anything – especially religion – was a crutch. Belief in that which had never proved itself – or only promised to prove itself when you were already dead…

Now that was systemic control gone mad.

Give him a god he could see, touch, summon and respect. Chaos was all that deserved his respect and adoration. He didn’t have to have faith – the evidence of the universe, and every drop of rain running down a window pane, was proof enough.

The vampires though, where were they getting their kills from as they continued to lay low? It’d been clear at their last meeting that they were very slowly rebuilding their Order – for whatever good that was going to do them – but the kills which sustained them wasn’t something he’d been involved with.

In fact he’d made a point of avoiding being involved in their kills. Being around when the blood was served wasn’t an aspiration any human should have.

No, their invitation to dinner wasn’t something he was waiting for with baited breath. But as they were still only four strong he felt confident they wouldn’t be sending the hordes out after him to make sure such an invitation was personally delivered. Four vampires, he supposed, which were of a better quality then they’d had the last time?

That was why they were moving so slowly, finding the perfect candidates – though there wasn't much of a chance that any of those four had 'volunteered.' Those who volunteered to join the undead were either deeply disturbed or sadly deluded. Perhaps both. Neither was a particularly good choice for eternal life.

But volunteers or not, he was slightly impressed by their choices.

Slightly.

Drusilla and Darla had created vampires who’d obey them, protect them and displayed the right degree of vicious competence without having any apparent ambitions of their own. Of course he was basing his suppositions of a few seconds interaction – but he hadn’t been eaten or threatened with that fate… so there was a plus point.

Still, if Darla was relying on their blind obedience then she had to be missing something. These were new vampires. Give them a decade and they’d have ambitions of their own – top of which would probably being free of her control.

Honestly, Darla wasn’t an inspiration to anyone.

Now, Drusilla, there was a vampire who could be inspiring – and didn’t even know it. She had, in her own way, a delicate charm that was complemented by her insanity and daunting strength. He’d seen the way the new vampires had looked at her. She might never lead them, but she’d always be their inspiration – at least for as long as she remained with Darla.

And she showed no signs of being anything but contented, though that could change in the time it took someone else’s heart to beat. Darla gave her nearly everything she wanted. Drusilla was indulged because Darla, perhaps only subconsciously, recognised the same things he had.

Drusilla was at least as contented as vampires tended to be. Contented vampires weren’t ones who were exercising restraint either. He’d wondered if, perhaps, the vampires weren’t killing to feed anymore. Perhaps they were taking what they needed and then releasing the people involved.

But he rather thought not.

Darla, and certainly Drusilla weren’t nibblers. Their restraint surely wouldn’t extend that far?

Though vampires might only take a little blood, and he’d seen them feed often enough, they nearly always killed. It was, to them, a deliciously hedonistic waste. They might not want anything but the kill, and a taste of the blood. It was a little like sampling a vintage wine and smashing the bottle after just a sip because you were rich enough to do so.

He had the feeling that, at least for now, they were making every drop count though. They fed when they needed to and took what they needed. It wasn’t feeding that got vampires noticed in a town or city, it was over-feeding.

He knew, also, that Darla and Drusilla had a penchant for feeding with each other. He doubted it was anything to do with economising though.

Oh no, they weren’t sharing diet tips together. Nor was it anything ‘sexual’ despite how certain humans might choose to characterise such activities.

He’d never seen, or heard of, a vampire with a sexual buzz on. Feeding and the hunger – as well as the acquisition and power of the kill were the driving forces of their existence, just as sex had come to be for a human.

But they were, for now, willing to remain hidden, that was all that counted for him. They’d had plenty of practice, but they really didn’t want to stay inside, out of the night, for long – which was why they’d tasked him with opening the Hellmouth for them – initially to destroy the world.

Persuading them of the lure of power – rather than blind destruction – was a form of progress that substituted for actually opening the Hellmouth for them. Progress enough to keep them from killing him, and enough that Drusilla would never detect a lie he was forced to tell her partner either.

Just so long as he was never asked if he was deliberately keeping things moving slowly in her presence. And even if he was; he’d still attempt the lie. It wasn’t certain Drusilla’s attention would be in this world at the time of the untruth. She might not even realise he was there. And if that question was asked he wasn't sure anything would save him anyway – so why not lie?

Perhaps his link to the lawyers would help though. Would the vampires want to avoid upsetting them?

If they’d known he had a contractual requirement to do more than just help them they might have paused. But if they’d known what that contracted specified they might’ve killed him out of hand anyway.

His life was one of complex avoidance of death.

Wolfram and Hart were apparently pleased with the progress on all fronts, particularly how he was continuing to juggle all the tasks he’d been given without alerting the vampires to what was happening here. And what that would, almost inevitably, mean for them.

The lawyers were also pleased because of how close phase II was coming to fruition. There was, actually, not very much time left. Things were starting to happen already. Forces were gathering in the correct alignments to ensure that this could actually happen during the next night. It wasn’t for fun that he was bringing the truth to bear in his war with the prospect of being discovered.

Perhaps, in a sense, the truth would set him free. Free from those who’d hunt him down and kick his ass. Or worse. It would certainly allow him to do what needed to be done.

Tomorrow.

It had taken months, but now it was here.

There wasn’t all that much time left for him to have his own fun before his business here was, at least partly, done. He had no doubt he’d be required to continue assisting the vampires – but he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to interfere in other matters.

He was going to have to continue to serve the needs of Darla and Drusilla, regardless of what the lawyers said, at least until they became pre-occupied with whatever Phase III held for them. He didn't want to make an enemy of Wolfram and Hart either – generally he preferred to avoid making enemies of anyone – vampires or lawyers – who’d willingly kill him anytime over the next few decades.

It made good sense; besides what the vampires were asking for – despite his delays – was much more in line with the needs of his Chaotic god than what the lawyers were paying him for.

So everything was going well, he still had to visit Ripper of course, but he was willing to wait until his old friend had been through the next night or so.

A night of truth, much more than a moment, but much less than forever. It would certainly be more interesting to pay Ripper and family a visit after the next night had passed. To see what impact it’d have had on their relationship.

He’d even waited for a weekend so more people could be with the people they ‘loved’ and thus lied to on a regular basis.

He wouldn’t take any joy in knowing what he’d managed to do with them. No joy, but perhaps a certain amount of glee.

It was time, and he couldn’t help smiling as he slowly dribbled the last of the mixture into the bubbling water below him, to unleash a little more honesty in Sunnydale. To teach them the value of truth.

Good, honest, fun.

Where was the harm in that? Who would be able to blame him for anything that happened over the next twenty four hours? Morally he’d be above all complaint. It’d be the lies other people had told which would harm them, not anything he chose to do now.

Let the truth come out.

Let the Sunnydale be whiter than white in a way it had never been.

Let Chaos prevail.

Tomorrow – and especially tomorrow night when there had been time for the compound to spread, reproduce itself and to take effect after ingestion – were going to be interesting. Now he had to go and get some sleep so he could be fresh enough to appreciate it properly.

And to preserve his dazzling good looks of course.

He sipped at his bottled water – it was all he was going to drink or wash in for a day or so – and headed back to the motel. He’d sleep like an honest man.

*********************

[Darth Pacula]

G'day, Katharyn.

I'm still here, still chugging away (currently up to Part 179, where Dick Willykins is starting off the Maclay women 'curse') and I thought I should drop off a few lines to let you know I'm still here.

Should have done this sooner, because there's a whole heck of a lot of ground to cover. Ah well, fortune favors the brave.

Given that there's so much to discuss, I'm just going to mention stuff as it occurs to me, if that's okay. (Since you won't read this until after I've posted it, I don't suppose you have any choice in the matter ) So please excuse me if this ends up rambling.

As you've said, there's less dark flair in the second chronicle, but there's still plenty of intrigue going on. From the start, things have been hunky dory between our lovely ladies (as they should be) with the exception of that pesky child issue.

On that, it's difficult when you can see and understand both sides of an argument. I don't know who to side with. Yes, they'd make wonderful parents (is there anyone on this board who doesn't think so?), and Willow is right to want something more out of life than what they have now. Perhaps not so much 'something more' though, as opposed to something different. They can't keep living this life indefinitely; it must take it's toll on them and the odds alone just keep getting worse the longer they do it.

But I can also see Tara's point too! Oh, the conundrum! But, given that I am just a spectator in this thrilling little melodrama, I can just sit back and watch it all unfold. Solving it is your problem.

What's next? Toni, definitely. Great character, hands down! Or hands up. Or hands anywhere you like, actually. I know you made mention of fears about being able to do justice to the issues a deaf character must face, but I think you've handled it all with tact and aplomb.

With Toni, you've crafted a fully three dimensional character, complete with vices and virtues. She's not too nice or cutesy (so that we actually want her to get snuffed out of pure spite), nor is she so snarky and annoying that we don't care if she lives or dies. In point of fact, that bit in the sewers where she punches Spike in the nose and knocks him on his undead arse? Classic!

Speaking of the Peroxide Pest, I do admit that I thought he wasn't actually dead for the longest time. The way you wrote it, to me at least, still left room for him to have survived Willow's ... shall we say excessive ... attempt to end his undead existence. I like Spike, so perhaps I was biased. In retrospect, that was an ironically hilarious way for Spike to meet his fate; incinerated, in a sewer, running away from a witch who used to be a vampire sired by his own sire.

When I put it that way, it almost sounds like a soap opera!

Darla and Dru: you've done a nice job with these too, keeping them in character, and maintaining those little flaws that make them stand out from the crowd of their vampiric brethren.

Another think I like is what you've done with Rupert. As opposed to in the show, he's more of one amongst equals rather than a father figure, a fact you subtly distinguish by calling him Rupert rather than Giles. It's a small touch, but it's one that works quite nicely.

Ethan is a hoot, with his loud shirts, conniving manner and utter determination to protect his own skin at all costs. The first meeting between him and Tara was a joy to read; I thought Tara's method of locating her invisible stalker was inspired. Ethan's little piece of mischief with the roses ... superb, and brilliantly reminiscent of his Halloween gig, that in this reality never took place.

I think I might have an idea as to what Ethan is up too for Wolfram and Hart, but I have no doubt that you'll still manage to surprise me. In fact, I'm looking forward to it.

This business with Willow's dreams and Wilkins' involvement in Tara's family history was a surprise. The idea that Wilkins was responsible for the whole demon thing in the first place, rather than it was just a measure the Maclay men instituted as a means of control is both unexpected and brilliant. It works much better for me that the men to believe it, and that there was a concrete reason for such behavior to begin in the first place.

I could ramble on like this for ages yet, but I won't since I'm home sick with the stomach flu. But when I finally catch up, you can expect plenty of regular feedback from this little colonial git.

Cheers,
Paul.

[Katharyn]

Hi there Darth!

Or G'day.

Thanks for stopping by, especially with all those lovely comments. Don't rush to catch up too much though cos you'll just have to start waiting for parts. At the moment for you it's fast food. Soon it'll take a while to cook.

179 seems like a very long time ago, but at least I can actually remember that, which gives me a chance to talk intelligently - at least semi intelligently - about it.

The lack of darkness is, thematically, a worry to me. On the one hand the whole point is that it ISN'T as dark as the original - this is what their lives are like after the darkness - but on the other hand Sidestep was supposed to be dark. Still I think it's like anything else in here. It's a progression towards light and, I think, it's been earned.

Yes, the girls are happy and together. That's tremendously difficult to write. No "conflict" between, or major danger for the two main characters? All the way through? That's something that's quite hard to work around - which is part of the reason we have the potential child question and also all the intrigue. I promised happy and together. I'd like to prove it can be done in a dramatic (rather than sexy or funny) story.

I am still not sure where I stand on the kids issue for them - and I am writing it. I tend to come down on Tara's side in most things in this story. I certainly empathise with her more. But I think on this I am with Willow. She just wants a choice and you are correct in how you describe it - something different.

I think, actually, the odds are getting better the longer they do it - as in the show when it comes to simple vampires and demons what seemed a big deal in season one can be brushed over by Season 5. But overall, yes, the longer they do it the more chance of getting hurt.

On the other hand when they stop... lots of people can get hurt.

But there is a resolution to that coming - I promise that much. One that's not aactually linked to the child idea except in as much as it might allow the choice. I think I've alrfeady decided there will be an epilogue at the end of this... some years in the future, that will show what that decision was. But I am very far from writing it!

Toni... OMG I love writing Toni. I've come through the worries now and she's taking shape for me. Deafness is now not an issue. Most people can communicate with her (by the time you get to read what I am writing at the moment) who need to and she's becoming more the 15 year old girl character with issues she and the girls must face.

But no "Get out!" tantrums. Nothing to make you either hate or love her for being cutesy or spiteful. Normal... I think.

Spike? Dead. Gone. Now okay, in this world that doesn't mean very much, but he is gone. And if he came back he'd have to be human. He was one of the last of the 'karma kills' killed for what he's done (and not just in this story!)

Darla and Dru... more than anyone else they are plot machinery. I have to admit it. They keep things ticking over, as does Ethan but he's more fun to write - philosophically too.

More mischief from Ethan coming up in the next few parts (from where I write this) and this is the bigggie... I have to credit Kerry with nearly all of his tricks. Years ago I was wondering what he could do, and she came up with all of his tricks in a few moments. Must be the aussie influence.

I think you should have an idea what Ethan is doing, everyone should. On the other hand I'm writing the reveal as a surprise so shhh.

Funnily enough the dream was something that I wanted to tell, just to explore what happened, and intially it was just what happened in every reality. It only saw Wilkins revisit the Maclay family to change things when I decided to make it more integral to the plot. And also it changed the plot dramatically. As you will see... On the one hand I wanted a believable reason other than 'all men in that family are assholes' for what happened to Tara's mother etc. On the other hand I am not totally happy with it.

What am I unhappy with? Well, it's the one place I've had to stretch the bounds of credibility again. There's the whole notion of a female line in a family already called Maclay, and why the name doesn't get lost in history. But the alternative, to pass it through the male line to female children etc just doesnn't ring as true or work thematically. (The other alternative to have a family NOT called Maclay was a non-starter too.) So I had to stretch that one and hopefully it gets lost in the detail.

Hope you get well soon, but please do keep feeding back. Keeps me sharp. Thanks so much,

Katharyn

[Forrister]

Two days for power, and nearly two weeks for a working phone line. Its amazing how utility companies can take forever to fix up what was their own screw up. Only bright spot was that they had our cable TV up and running in 24 hours thanks to a temporary dish and I managed to secure a free mobile phone through work. All is well now.

Missed you. Should have posted when I first read this, but due to loads of work I was reading it in chunks and meaning to reply when I had a bit of spare time. You have carefully developed your characters and I sense you are fast reaching a point where they will be shaken about a bit.

I vaguely recall the conversation where we discussed this. Its good to see you use the idea. I can't wait to see where this will lead. (Have edited this post to carefully delete all references to a possible destination . . . . Shhhhhhh!)

Forrister

PS - It has nothing to do with me being an Aussie, its all about me being perverse and evil-minded

Veritas omnia vincit.
Truth conquers all things.

[Katharyn]

But Kerry you came up with the destination!

Or at least you came up with the destination for Ethan. *S* Okay, his plan... you came up with pretty much all of his little plans. I take it to be a sign you can be chaotic and mildly evil when you want to be.

Once that happens it should be pretty unrelenting though through to the end. Far fewer "nice to have" parts and a lot more that are hopefully still "nice" (and there are plenty of good moments for the girls and others) but much more essential to the plot. We'll see some more characters from canon too. Not saying who. Or whom. Whichever it is.

Which even you don't know... with 192 you will reach the end of your foreknowledge LOL.

192 will be up as soon as I have redrafted 193 - I like to keep ahead of the game. Should be a couple of days at the most.

Glad you've made it back!

Katharyn

[beanie]

Hey!

I've been trying to make my way through these two stories, but gosh are they jam-packed! Anyway, I thought I'd just drop by and let you know how fackin brilliant you are. The plot was super ingenious for the first half and how Tara got Willow back. Seeing them fall back in love and the goofy/steamy sex parts had me laughing and smoldering all at once. Willow and Tara's situation with Giles, Jenny, and Baby Faith was touching. Though Giles did tend to get a little British, but wait! he's British! So good on you then!

I'm only 2/3 the way through it so I won't say more beyond that until I know what else happens. Oh one more thing, writing from the point of view of a person lacking one sense is very difficult assuming you have all of your senses, but you've made it pretty darn seamless. So yay kudos.

Anyway the length, depth, and creativity of this story is something many authors can only strive for. It's lovely to see it achieved and achieved so well.

-beanie

[Katharyn]

Hi Beanie! Welcome to the party and thanks so much for stopping by to give feedback.

I've said it before, but don't be a stranger just because you are a little way (or a few hundred thousand words) behind! Not only am I most certainly a feedback whore, but feedback on old parts really does help me. I started this fic nearly 4 years ago now - perhaps a little more for the bit of the Beginnings Cycle that started it off.

What with well over a million words and a year where I didn't get to write at all, I have to admit my memory is... flawed. What I remember of the earlier parts is now what I am writing the girls remember and thats not the same things! Good things come out of me being reminded of stuff, I've written whole parts - as well as adjusting characterisation - because of what people reminded me of. But no pressure!

That means you should all also definitely challenege me if something seems out of character (but you'd be doing even better than me to remember after all this!)

The first half solution - how to get Willow back - that should have been obvious but took one of those inspiration moments. It wasn't going to be half as obvious as that! But this way is better.

But in the second half I've really been letting the girls live. They have their problems, and their problems are worse than most of ours, but they have good lives all told. TBH - and this isn't something you'll be up to yet - it's only as we move into the 190's that the real problems will come to be clear. Pretty much from 193 onwards it's all back into the swing of tight plotting (with T/W goodness!!)

I feel I can write Rupert BTW because I am a Brit too. I suppose he might seem VERY British because I write that way anyway so when I add a layer for him, it goes further than maybe the show did.

As for Baby Faith... I love her more now at about 4. She and Toni are some of my favourite things to write, even if I've left Faith out a little too much recently. Hmm, maybe I need to look at that.

I'm pleased you like how Toni is written. That was a big thing to me, and a big worry. Though the most obvious things are references to hearing and the like, there's an attitude (and I don't mean that like "she has an attitude" it's just because I can't think of a better word) that necessarily goes with it. Everyone else has a hearing attitude... It's funny, but I think I can write a lack of a sense better than I can write an additional one (such as T/W connection that I have never been totally happy with.)

So pleased you are along for the ride. Come back soon!

Katharyn

[Katharyn]

Section 1 of 2 due to length.

Sadly I am not entirely happy with some parts of this – it can be a little confusing. But hopefully it’s easier now that I tweaked it to make the dreams more obvious compared to the real world. Read the notes, that’s all I can say!

K


Title: The Sidestep Chronicle – Second Chronicle - Time is Running Out (Part 192)
Author: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome. Katharynrosser1@hotmail.co.uk Flames just demonstrate you have a tiny mind.
Spoiler Warning: Pretty limited. The story occurs in an alternate universe as set up in “The Wish” though reference is made to events that occur in both realities. Nothing is referenced that occurs after S5 though. Guess why? Most “spoilers” would be for the first chronicle of this fic rather than the show and if you haven’t read that then much of this will make no sense but you can try and get round it by reading the preface to Part 104 which summarises most of what went before.
Distribution This story was written for Pens. Pens is its home. No archiving off Different Coloured Pens (This applies to all of the Sidestep Chronicle)
Summary: Willow dreams and begins to doubt whether it is just a dream. But just whom is time running out for?
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS. All rights lie with the production company, writers etc, etc. I am making zilch from this series of stories. You know the drill.
Rating: R – a general rating for occasional content. Individual parts might be less than this level.
Couples: Tara and Willow forever – others couples as necessary but nothing unconventional.
Notes: The line that involves strange things being afoot at the Circle-K is, of course, an affectionate Bill and Ted reference. I like to slip a few pop-culture references in there, just as the show did. This is absolutely the last dream of the past with the Mayor at the farm. Honest. For real this time. When I said that before it’s because I couldn’t remember! For clarity there is more than one dream here, and not all of them involve the Mayor – which is why Willow might seem a little weird with things out of place. Also… bear in mind that he can be wrong in his interpretation of things… don’t be running off in the wrong direction just because he does!
Thanks To: My own special woman Louise who helps me so much with this on top of everything else. Those other friends and family who’ve also helped us overcome everything that was put in my way. Celia and Kerry who shaped this story and continue to do so when I think back to what they told me in the past. Xita for keeping the story hanging around and continuing to give us TKTWATBW.


The Sidestep Chronicle – Second Chronicle

Time is Running Out

By

Katharyn Rosser



“Now that’s one heck of a pretty crystal that you have there,” he said as he looked in on Ruth. It was almost time for them all to head towards their beds for the night and he didn’t intend to linger. Sleep was an important part of any productive life.

There was also the point to conjure that last time he’d been here Ruth had just been a child – now she was a beautiful young woman. It wouldn’t do for Robert to think that his intentions towards Ruth were anything but those of a friend of the family.

It wouldn’t do for her father to believe he was the man who was going to steal her freedom away from her.

Would they suspect him? Would he be discovered? The future said no, but he couldn’t be sure until he’d done the deed. Things could always change; he could always step off the path – even if he should have known all about that by now.

But if he had to be discovered and found guilty of something then it was better to be something he’d actually done rather than something he’d never even consider. Beautiful young woman she might be, but she’d never once attracted his attention in that way. There was only one woman for him and they hadn’t even met yet.

And what would Edna May think about what he was about to do?

“It was my grandmother’s,” Ruth told him as she kept looking into its depths. She was holding the crystal in her cupped hands – sometimes just in her lap and sometimes, while he’d been watching, holding it up to the lamp light that had actually attracted him to her bedroom.

The whispering of the flame, already amplified by the glass jar that housed it, was scattered and reflected by the pink crystal, shining out across the room in the most curious of patterns.

There was finality about the way that Ruth had mentioned her grandmother though.

A finality that he was going to have to challenge if he was going to talk to her before he did what he had to. Besides… he needed something of hers, something to bind the ritual to her. The last time it had been her some of her mother’s hair. It needn’t be any different this time around. Hair would do fine. “Did you know her?” he asked.

“No.”

“That’s certainly a shame, Ruth. Grandparents are the rock of any good family,” he said to her. “Though sometimes,” he continued, “it’s just a question of the example that they set to influence the following generations. Sometimes you don’t have to know them for that to shine through and make you a better person. A better family.”

“And family is the basis of the community?” she asked, turning her head to give him a tiny smile.

“Well remembered my dear,” he complimented her. It’d been ten years since he’d told her that, and she’d remembered them anyway. It surely was a shame that she couldn’t come to his town and be a part of what he was building, to see that truth at work.

For someone who’d remember that it should have been more than words. For her, and her mother, it should have been more.

But there was no rushing fate. One of her relatives would come to his town. One of her relatives would do a heck of a lot for that community – even if they’d never thank her for it.

And not a one of them would appreciate what Tara Maclays forbearers had been through to bring her to them. It seemed, from what he’d told himself, that Tara herself wouldn’t know the full truth of it.

“So you didn’t know her,” he said to her and got a blank look for a moment. “Your grandmother, you didn’t know her?”

“She died when I was very young,” Ruth told him, and she sounded sad about that.

He could understand the sadness; everyone had a desire to know where they came from at some point in their life.

Just looking at himself, he’d spent a few lifetimes trying to work all the nuances of his own past out – and he knew there were a good few more years to be spent the same way in the future. He still hadn’t worked it all out and he had the benefit of both hind and foresight. Perhaps all that did was make it more confusing.

Perhaps the human way was better.

But he didn’t let it dominate him. He’d like to know – but he wasn't going to let it affect him if he couldn’t find out. Where he’d come from wasn’t half as important as where he was going.

Where he was going was the whole point, for everyone.

“Sometimes -” Ruth stopped, as if the words wanted to come but she couldn’t let them.

“Sometimes what?” he asked gently.

She looked at him, as if deciding whether it was something she should tell him. Then she revealed her trust. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t know Momma very well either,” she admitted, but couldn’t meet his eyes while she said the words – staring instead into the crystal again.

He stayed silent, partly through his own regret.

Ruth was going to have a much better understanding of her mother from tomorrow, or at least she’d start to have one. An understanding no one else was ever really going to be able to get close to.

Like mother, like daughter – that’s what they’d say.

It was what they’d keep saying.

At least he was going to bringing them closer in that sense. In something like this he had to take small comforts in the benefits – and not just the one’s he’d be waiting a century to see realised.

In this small way what he was going to do would be good for both of them.

Since he’d seen to it that she was tainted, Lilly had always been alone. At least in the sense that no one really understood. And now she wouldn’t be.

Though he’d never expect her to thank him for that. If she’d known what he was about to do she’d probably have cursed his name and tried very hard to kill him. Yes, he honestly believed she had that in her. Certainly he was relying on it being a trait of her great-great-great-great granddaughter.

But Lilly never would know.

So given that, would the decimation of her daughters freedom, such as it could be for any girl in this time, be a good or a bad thing for Lilly?

The realisation that the same thing had happened to her daughter would probably hurt her more than anything else had in the last ten years… but would there be a sneaky part of her that was happy that she wasn’t alone anymore? Not the only one.

It would be a very human reaction and, in spite of what her husband might believe, Lilly was still, entirely, human.

Would she, in spite of her love, feel relieved someone else would know what she was thinking, feeling and what was happening to her? Really know?

Or would the bond of a mother and daughter overwhelm any such relief?

Humans didn’t like to be alone – they didn’t like to be ‘the only one.’ Even those who wanted to stand out from the crowd usually did so because they wanted the crowd to follow them.

And then there was the rest of it.

Something – other than what he’d done – had changed Ruth’s mother. Oh, he knew and admitted he’d caused it. But where she’d gone since…

If being so alone, despite the love of her family, was what had affected Lilly then it might actually be a help to have Ruth…? And even if it wasn't then perhaps Ruth would be a little better off as she went through that due to Lilly’s own influence.

Her experience.

Perhaps Lilly’s husband, Ruth’s father, would come to understand a little better. Perhaps things could be easier on them once Ruth joined her mother?

Or perhaps not.

Like mother, like daughter. Oh yes, that’s what they’d say. One day children hereabouts would probably sing songs about it.

Yes, he knew what he was doing to all of them – all those that’d come after. His future self had the testimony of the woman he was doing this to meet.

“Daddy doesn’t talk about it much,” Ruth went on. “And Isaac doesn’t really notice, he’s too young… he never really knew her before… you know, before it happened.”

He made the appropriate affirmative noise in his throat so that she could tell he was listening and so she would carry on talking to him.

In spite of his guilt, and he did feel it, this was really, really fascinating. This was just the sort of thing he wanted to know if he was going to make this work right – perfectly. Tip top and ten out of ten.

It was very important that he be able to judge the tone of the family and what it would become. In the coming days, and perhaps in some more letters, he’d be given his last chance to shape what was to follow.

The future had to be what it should be – but he didn’t want a single girl, a single woman in this house to suffer more than she had to in order to bring that to pass.

“Your brother never saw the things she did,” Richard said. It was something that hadn’t occurred to him before. Of course he’d known it, but he hadn’t consciously realised. Isaac hadn’t seen what had happened to his grandfather and yet he was, despite a deep love for his sister, developing the attitude that was required regardless.

And that could only be coming from the father.

No Isaac couldn’t have come to all that prejudice on his own… Robert was leading his son – maybe not even consciously – but Isaac was being led all the same. To just where he needed to be.

Or was this too early? Too soon?

As a great woman had once said – ‘you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make him drink.’

It was all going as planned.

If he did say so himself, he had a flair for this sort of thing… and this was going to be one of his finest accomplishments to date. In terms of the impact it would one day have and the way this had needed to be handled to achieve it… Tres magnifique.

It had to be a job well done, not just because that was the only job worth doing, but also because of what it meant for the future.

Who would’ve thought this family, in this little house out in the middle of nowhere, could be so important?

“You think she’s changed then?” he asked.

Of course Lilly had changed. He’d been away a long time and even he could see it. When he’d left her ten years ago she’d been frightened, not sure what was happening and yet she’d still been the Lilly he’d known when he first arrived here.

Now… she was someone who was ever so slightly different. They’d all changed as a result of what had happened, himself included, it was just that with Lilly he couldn’t clearly see the path she’d taken to the person she was now.

He could see, with Robert and Ruth, what had led them to be the people they were today. He could even see it in Isaac, how the child had become so wary of magic. How he’d truly become the son of his father.

But dear Lilly, she was more of an enigma. Was it stress? Guilt? Was she reigning her own emotions in too much? It just wasn’t clear, and yet it could be important. There were still adjustments he could make, advice he could give Robert.

“Silly question,” he admitted quickly.

“She’s…” Ruth stopped. “Would you mind if we didn’t talk about this?” she asked him.

She’d raised it… he hadn’t even had to probe at all. He suspected that she did want to talk about it – but then when she finally had someone who’d listen to her… it wasn’t as easy to deal with as she might’ve thought.

Of course it wasn’t easy, this was her mother they weren’t talking about.

“I thought you might want to,” he suggested, “being as your father so clearly doesn’t.”

“So did I,” she admitted. “I thought that I wanted to.”

She’d surprised herself by being unable to talk about what was troubling her. And the sad thing was that with the tone of this house – of her father – this might have been the last chance she got to talk where someone listened to her at all…

Except her mother of course.

Alright, so the last time someone listened and didn’t have in their head that she was cursed, tainted, or had a demon within her.

Such a shame when she plainly had so much to offer the world.

Today she was daughter, much loved sister – surrogate mother in many ways. Tomorrow… what would she be then?

Would this affect her as it had Lilly? Or would she find the strength to be what a Maclay woman needed to be? Would she change her father one more time? And her beloved little brother too? Make them more tolerant – yet wary as he needed them to be?

He had no idea because none of his future selves had any idea – but he liked to believe Ruth would be the one who’d be ultimately responsible for the woman Tara Maclay would one day become. Someone had to set the pattern.

Or would the mothering instinct emerge in Lilly when she saw what’d happened? Could it yet be her?

If he could’ve asked her more questions then perhaps he could have figured that out. But this was her last night as she was now. If she said ‘no’ then ‘no’ it would be.

“So tell me about this crystal,” he said, getting them back to the original subject that had drawn him to the room and ultimately led them to subjects she didn’t want to discuss.

Ruth thought about that, looking deep into the crystal as she did and then she started to tell him about it. “Sometimes there were… You understand I just know what momma told me?” she explained hurriedly.

He nodded, assuring her he understood and wouldn’t tell Robert. It seemed to satisfy her, but it alarmed him slightly. She was already afraid of revealing what she knew? This young woman needed some encouragement.

Just a little.

“Sometimes there were girls – girls in our family who couldn’t get a grasp on the magic.” She almost whispered that last word. “Not like their momma could. They had problems starting with it – finding it inside themselves. Realising what it was what when they tried to use it.”

“When their mothers were trying to teach them?” he asked. Naturally there were those who were more or less talented. Not everyone could paint. Not everyone could make the perfect loaf of bread.

Everyone had talents though – this family more than most. Talent was just waiting to be discovered.

“Yes. But you see sir, the crystal… it makes finding the magic easier. It makes the magic easier to call on,” she told him and stared deep into the facets of it. “And that doesn’t seem to be a problem now,” she mused. “She, Momma, had that problem when she was little. That’s why it was hers.”

He stayed silent.

“She never found it as easy as… well, as me. And she doesn’t have that problem now though,” Lilly finished by repeating the words, obviously thinking about them. Where would thoughts like that lead her?

To the nature of their affliction?

And if Lilly had been… inhibited with the magic, where would that leave the tainting of someone as certain of her ability as Ruth? Would the release of the inhibiting controls in Lilly’s daughter be more or less extreme?

No way to know than to find out.

He’d heard of such tools before of course. A crystal like this was a wonderful gift for magic of any tradition. It was something that suited every occasion. Like a good pair of shoes.

He wondered if she had any idea where it’d come from. Someone in the past had put a lot of time, energy and magical ability into making this crystal for this family. Using skills that he hadn’t thought were present in the Maclays, and probably weren’t today.

They’d already forgotten things, things his Tara might need to find again for herself. Would Tara be able to make such a crystal if she needed to?

No way to know than to find out.

“Does it make her more powerful?” he asked carefully, searching for the obvious question when he already understood her meaning. A preacher shouldn’t understand the nature of magic.

“No sir. It has nothing to do with power. The power is inside you and all the crystal lets you do is find a path to it more easily. Sometimes, Momma said, things just happened because she’d been thinking about it, when usually she couldn’t have found it in herself to do that all,” Ruth revealed, and that was plainly what was scaring her.

The Crystal. She was wondering if the crystal had caused the death of her grandfather?

Yes, she might be. Ruth was thinking that perhaps Lilly’s lack of control had been filtered through the crystal and that had killed him. The crystal rather than Lilly herself.

It was an attractive proposition and if he’d been even slightly interested in the truth he might have suggested that they explore it more deeply. The truth was that she wasn’t a million miles away… It was just that taint had done what she thought the crystal might be responsible for.

She didn’t know about the truth.

But he knew the truth already – which was the only reason why he wasn't interested in helping her discover it.

Still… the crystal was an unknown quantity that he wasn’t totally happy with. It could, if say Ruth had it in her hand when the taint took her, cause some serious problems and then distract from the truth of the situation – that it was Ruth, like Lilly – that was squarely to blame.

It had to be them… not the crystal. For her to be holding it now, thinking about it now… That could be unfortunate after what he was going to do to their water supply tonight.

Then there was the very real danger involved. The taint as well as the crystal… in the hands of a woman who came by her magic a great deal more easily than her mother had?

Yes, that certainly had the potential to be dangerous.

“You have to be careful now Ruth,” he said gently taking the crystal from her hands. He could feel the power in it, he knew that if, in theory, he wanted something magic to happen then the crystal would – according to Ruth – simply help him tap into whatever natural talent he had to make it happen.

He tried a simple test, opening his other hand and expecting a flower to appear there.

And nothing happened at all. Not a petal. Not a pesky aphid. He closed his hand and tried again, trying not to appear too obvious.

And it did nothing at all. Though he wasn’t much for magic, he knew he had the talent. At least when he had some assistance. Rituals were more his thing but… nothing.

She must have realised what he was doing.

“You probably shouldn’t do that. But I think it’s attuned to us,” she said and took it back from him. “To our family… the women in it. I was thinking that maybe I should destroy it.”

“Why?” he asked in all innocence. Now he wondered whether that might be the solution to the, potential, problem.

“You said,” she replied. “You said that we have to be careful now and you’re right. We do… and what if it is what’s causing her problems and we never even realised?”

Don’t let her do that.

He didn’t need any help from himself thank you very much. He knew this, how to deal with it. He closed her hand around the crystal. “Do you think it is?” he asked simply. He didn’t want her to do anything that was going to risk changing things in the future… especially being as she had so little time left as her own woman.

They had to believe in the demon – all of them. The women more so than the men. They had to do this to themselves. Repression would only ever work in the short term.

The victims never realised they were victims – just unfortunate.

“Has it ever hurt you?” he asked.

“No.”

“No,” he repeated. “Has it ever hurt anyone else you heard of?”

“No. Unless it -”

He had to interrupt that chain of thought. “Do you think that your momma would have let you have it if she thought that it was dangerous?” he asked her very reasonably.

He knew the answer to that – Lilly wouldn’t take the slightest chance with her children and that was why she consented to being locked up so readily during the phase of the moon that heralded the taint. To avoid any danger to them.

Ruth would probably be the same. At least he hoped so.

“No sir,” she admitted.

“And you know how to control the magic, you don’t even need this crystal do you? You could put it away couldn’t you?” he asked.

“Yes sir, I could.”

“You should make sure that its there for those who do need it… one day in the future. Other girls who were perhaps also called Maclay,” he told her.

She smiled and that was all the reward he needed for preserving the crystal.

Oh, that lovely, innocent smile. He couldn’t even remember innocence like that.

The smile was his reward, as was the continuation of the magic in this family.

Something as simple as the absence of a crystal could have changed the entire future – and the beautiful innocence of a smile could preserve it.

The women would continue to do the magic and the men would continue to be wary of them. Wariness would lead to confinement and the conditions he required to mould the last Maclay daughter.

Simple really.

“One day that crystal is going to mean something very special to someone in this family… One day in the future.”

She looked at him strangely; did she suspect that he knew it to be true?

Did it matter? “So you should look after it,” he said.

He looked deep into the crystal itself as she offered it to him again. He was as caught up in the beauty of how the flickering light moved through it as this young woman had been. And perhaps he saw something that Ruth wouldn’t have seen.

Perhaps it was his own heritage that gave him the insight. Ruth was looking into it too, he was sure that many women in this family had – perhaps under these very conditions… and he wasn’t sure that they weren’t seeing what he could see.

If they had… Wouldn’t everything would’ve been different. Or would they just have accepted it?

He wasn't blessed with a special sight, but this was a crystal that was deeply imbued with magic – even if that magic was tied to this family. It was, perhaps, a gateway into sights of the past and the future. Not even sights really… People.

He thought he could pick out a couple of people that he knew. Lilly, Ruth both as she was now as well as how she’d looked when he’d first met her. Or earlier… times past when she’d been struggling to access her heritage.

And the images did seem to be caught. As if… It was as if these people had looked into the crystal and it had constantly reflected that image within itself forever more… round and round the facets only to reveal themselves fleetingly. When the time was right, when you held the crystal just… so. When you held it and really looked.

He wasn't sure how, but he knew some of these images were probably of the future. He knew it – he was as certain of that fact as he was that the voices in his head, the conversations that he had with his own past and future selves, were real too.

The proof of the pudding was always in the eating.

On the other hand the first signs of madness were talking to yourself, seeing things and believing that you were effectively immortal?

It was worth thinking about, but not for too long.

Were they seeing his captured image in the crystal? Were they actually looking right at him as he wondered that? If he waved would they see him? Would they wave back… Of course not he was seeing fragments of moments.

No gesture. No words would ever be translated…

Then he fixed on one face in particular… One face that didn’t quite fit with the rest. One with red hair and features that marked her out as certainly not being a Maclay.

-----------------------------

Willow looked into the heart of the crystal.

It was something she often did when the shifting light within brought its facets to her attention. Okay, the whole floating up on the roof thing had made her wary of it for a long time – but Tara had taught her everything she needed to know to avoid a repetition of that. She knew now how to deal with it…

She knew enough to only float when her mind was on other, very delicate and pleasurable things and she lost all control…

Okay. But she knew enough to be able to gaze into it and not be afraid that a passing thought might lead her into embarrassing circumstances once again. If her thoughts had any power around this crystal then the fear of being shown up in front of the rest of the people in the dorm and being incidentally stuck to the roof was exactly the kind of thought that allowed gravity to hold sway in its presence.

Sometimes the old her, the part of her that remembered who she’d been before Tara – before the vampire even – got afraid of stuff like that, being shown up. One look at her lover banished the old Willow though, at least for a little while.

Unless there were public musical performances in the offing and that had only ever happened the once.

They were so much greater than the sum of their parts – as that old saying went – no way she could dispute that.

And Tara had some very attractive parts too.

The fairy lights that Tara had strung around the edge of the room just a few days ago twinkled comfortingly, and that light bounced around inside the crystal along with the early morning light that penetrated through the curtains.

Tara’s fairy lights… She had no idea where her woman had first picked them up, she hadn’t asked, but they’d gone round every dorm room that they’d had. She remembered them being in the apartment back when she’d been… less wholesome than she was now.

She had to admit they were a conversation point. When people came here they asked about them… Not that they had strangers in their bedroom very often.

The funny thing was she didn’t remember Tara taking them down at dorms and bringing them back here to the apartment.

But she must’ve done. It seemed like a signal… they spent so little time in dorms now, their stuff had come back in dribs and drabs as they needed them, leaving the room over at USC virtually bare but for a bed and a few bits and pieces. The fairy lights were just the latest example of that slow migration.

It was pretty simple, with Toni they needed the space the apartment gave them.

The lights blinked again, casting a different pattern over the walls and into the myriad facets of the crystal.

Tara liked to make those lights into a game too… How many times had Willow begged her to tell her what they were for? And her girlfriend did insist there was a reason for them.

Where they’d come from and what they’d meant?

Yeah, she’d asked those questions lots… And somehow when she begged Tara for anything she found that she quickly forgot all about the question that had started it off. Her woman certainly had a way of making her forget the little questions that could wait for another day.

A way?

Many ways.

And when that other day came… then Tara would help her forget them all over again.

Okay, it wasn’t much of a game – but it was a fun all the same.

The angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection, she told herself to bring herself back from the happy place that were her thoughts of Tara. It was a place that gave her a lot of joy when they were apart – as well as when they were together – but it was distracting too. Somehow… when she fell under Tara’s spell things had a habit of not getting done.

At least not getting done for a few hours.

But what, actually, did she have to do right now?

She looked back at Tara, writing notes for her latest paper at the desk.

Desk? There wasn’t a desk in their bedroom – at least not here.

And what was Tara doing with notes at this time in the morning? Dawn was just starting to dawn. As dawn tended to do. And she could’ve sworn Tara had been right here beside just a few seconds ago. And she definitely didn’t remember watching her woman getting dressed again… very strange.

She almost woke the woman in bed beside her and asked about it.

Ah well… Maybe she had nothing to do, but Tara evidently did. She was sure that she could distract her lover… but that would just lead to a reduced snuggling time later in the course of the paper and gentle chiding that it was all her fault, so she’d deserve it.

She smiled as the penguin walked across the room, offering to go make them coffee. It was tempting but she was trying to wean herself off the caffeine.

Willow didn’t want to be chided for taking Tara away from her studies – even if that chide came with a tremendous amount of love. She wasn't some nympho girl… She could control her desire for snuggles. She was a strong woman. Wasn’t she? She looked back at Tara again, beside her in bed, and her lover looked up meeting her eyes and letting her get lost in them… This could work out well… Two Tara’s, no waiting.

“Want something love?” the Tara beside her asked huskily, offering as much as she could ever want or need – even while the Tara at the desk continued to do her work.

Oh, I want to snuggle… She was strong though. The new, temporary, mantra went through her mind and with a grin she turned back to the crystal. Wow, how easy had that been? To put snuggles on hold for a little while and she wouldn’t even have been inconveniencing her girlfriends studies? The crystal was so pretty though.

The angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection. It certainly did.

There were some things Willow knew that she would never forget from school – no matter if she never used that theory ever again in her life, she’d always remember it and that led her to an even stranger thought. One she couldn’t understand why’d she’d ever have had. But…

Sometimes, against most of the more obvious laws of science, she wondered if light ever got trapped in a crystal like this one? Was it in there? Bouncing around endlessly? Looking for a way out – except light wouldn’t ‘look’ as such cos it wasn’t a thing that could look. It had no eyes… it had no mind…

Poor light… bouncing around forever in there without even knowing it? It made her sad, and the penguin did a little dance to make her feel better. The Penguin Shuffle.

And it did help, she didn’t feel as bad for the light.

Now see what’d happened. Now she wanted Tara to tell her that the light was alright in there, that it was having fun and that bouncing around was what it liked to do… even that maybe it had found a home? Moving into the crystal.

Tara was a person who could comfort her about that kind of thing – as she could about the frogs – but there was no need for comfort, the penguin had danced. She was content that the light was in there, safe and sound. Was that something to be sad about? No!

Of course, for Tara to tell her anything she’d have to explain the whole thing to her lover and that would lead to one of Tara’s ‘she’s my lovely, strange, woman,’ smiles. Those always melted her away anyway… even if it meant Tara knew just how weird she could be.

It wasn’t as if Tara could’ve missed how weird she was. Weird was good, weird was… unconventional. Bohemian even.

She blinked at the wrong moment and wondered if what…

She thought that she’d seen… what had it been? A face…

Tara’s face in the crystal? But not a reflection because Tara wasn’t… Tara was in bed, Tara was at the desk, Tara was doing the Penguin Shuffle with their coffee making friend?

Tara was anywhere but in a place where she could be reflected in the crystal.

Of course, she just had Tara on the brain… as always. Nothing wrong with seeing her baby when she closed her eyes – in fact she often had done. The sweetest of dreams… Talking of which, here came the penguin one more time. And now he had a lawn mower… mowing the rug.

Tara was the sweetest of her dreams. But her eyes hadn’t been fully closed had they? It was just a blink. She thought… her honest impression had been that she’d actually seen Tara’s face in the crystal, not behind her eyelids. Her blink had interrupted the sight – not created it. And perhaps it hadn’t been a Tara that she’d seen for a long time.

A slightly younger Tara… concerned that Willow would hurt herself with the crystal?

Oh, Tara would love that. She was imagining a younger version of her? The penguin was already sniggering about it.

Might even be worth spilling her guts about seeing things to let that little nugget of information out. But was it imagined?

In the crystal. Was it a Tara who, despite what she’d thought was her better judgement at the time, decided that she did need to teach Willow some of the magic arts? It might have been…

It was how Willow remembered it.

And so that had begun – with this precious crystal. Precious because of what it meant and whom it’d come from, not because of it’s magical qualities. It came from a line of powerful women… and now to her powerful, beautiful woman.

It was that Tara she’d thought she’d seen, the Tara who’d got her down from the ceiling out at the Maclay house. A few years younger… but no less lovely.

Not the Tara that was working at the desk now.

Not the Tara who lay beside her.

Nor the Tara who was dancing with the penguin.

Could it be real? Could light bounce around forever in a crystal and eventually, one day, coalesce into a memory? An image of the past? Was that a viable theory?

“Baby?”

Tara looked up from her conversation with the penguin’s mate.

Except Tara was beside her asleep… Okay, weird – but she needed a Tara who was awake, so she directed her attention to the one at the desk.

“Did you ever see…” Willow started the question, Tara was all ears. If she’d finished the question then Tara would get up. They’d investigate the crystal… eventually decide that there was nothing there, how it could there be if it was real? And then Tara would have missed out on getting her paper done after penguin consultation… and then there would be fewer snuggles down the line and who wanted that kind of outcome just because she’d started to see things?

Besides, let Tara work now. Toni was at Jenny’s for the night and that would mean that well, they could have a little quality time for themselves later. They could and they would… Willow liked to think that it was an understanding they had… without a word actually been spoken to put that in place. Tonight… they would snuggle.

Or had they already snuggled? Wasn’t Tara alongside her? Didn’t she feel like they’d snuggled? It wasn’t like she couldn’t tell. It wasn’t even as if Jenny couldn’t tell – hours later.

That’d be the glow. A visual thing, and perhaps the way she carried herself, for Jenny. But for Willow snuggles with Tara left an all-body, all senses, all around high that she could feel… well, right about up until she started to get horny again.

Sometimes it was like they never did anything but glow. Once Jenny had actually said to them once ‘You didn’t have sex last night did you?’ Was it really more noticeable that way around?

Nah… didn’t really matter. Willow knew which side of the equation she’d rather be on. Any side with regular Tara loving.

“No… It’s okay baby, it’s nothing,” Willow said, denying her own concerns. And it probably was. After all Tara was right there, so even if her image was caught up in the crystal – which she severely doubted – then what was the problem? Just because it confounded all sorts of physical laws didn’t mean she needed to worry about it.

Or did it? Wasn’t this quantum? Did all light have to find it’s way out of a crystal? Wasn’t there some weird universe – like one where penguins didn’t roam the bedroom as they liked – where the light would be trapped in every crystal and it’d contain something like ‘memories’? Like a photo-album?

“Sure sweetie?” Tara asked her, sounding more curious than concerned.

The Tara beside her in bed shifted as the Tara at the desk asked her the question.

Was she sure? Willow was also more curious than she was concerned.

And more than she was curious she wanted… She crossed the room to Tara and bent down behind her lover wrapping her arms around her, the crystal still in her hand, and hugged her, kissing her ear before whispering to her. “Just get on with what you were doing,” Willow said gently. “And when Mr Book has finished with you…”

“I’m all yours,” Tara suggested.

“That didn’t sound like a question,” Willow replied.

“Who’s asking?” Tara replied and twisted her head to bring her lips to Willow’s in a deep kiss, the likes of which they hadn’t had much chance to share when Toni had been with them in the dorm room. Snatched moments had been the limit of their passion – but it could never be the limit of their love… Love always won out over discretion while passion never could.

Love was a given. A simple caress in bed carried as much weight as the words ‘I love you.’ The touch of a hand as they passed each other in the room – or during the day between classes was more affirmation than they would ever need. They’d never even discussed what they should be like in front of Toni… it was just good manners. Toni had seen them kiss, hold hands… and clearly had no problem with that at all. This place was their home and they were in love…

This place? Here she was hugging Tara, at her desk… in the dorm room. And over there… Tara lay in the big, comfy bed from the apartment? Something might just be wrong here?

Still… Two Tara’s, that definitely had possibilities that related to sandwiches. And it wasn’t that she was hungry.

She might want to eat, possibly munch, but she wasn’t hungry.

So was this apartment? Tara was in bed there… or was it the dorm room? The desk was… the Tara whose arms caressed her now…

It was kind of important to know.

What they would never do, because it was a private thing, was try to indulge their passion whilst there was a chance that Toni would be around or coming into the room. Besides, as Willow had pointed out, if absence made the heart grow fonder then the absence of such indulgence… Well, it made some things more than they had been…

That was why she didn’t say anything just then that might have led to research… Especially when it was likely to be just a figment of her imagination seeing Tara in the crystal, after all she’d been thinking about that time just a few moments before.

Just a figment of her imagination… Unlike the beautiful woman that was fastened to her lips and in firm in her grasp, but also asleep in their bed… their bed from another place. It was a grasp she reluctantly released, only to find Tara’s hand holding the back of her head to prolong the kiss a little more.

“Not a question,” Tara said eventually. “Always a promise love.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever been on a promise before,” Willow said as their lips parted for what she knew would be the last time until Tara was done studying. Until she woke up – because there was always a kiss when they woke up. Always. It was the only way to start the day.

“Oh you have, many times, you just never realised it,” Tara said with a wink and waited for Willow to scoot before she turned back to her books. And her conversation with the penguin. Not to mention sleeping in the bed and dancing with the other penguin.

One last smile from Tara and she returned to her books while Willow went and got back in bed, stroking the sleepy Tara’s back as the mattress shifted – familiar by now with how to reassure her sleeping lover that everything was okay and she was back. She looked into the crystal again – holding it up towards the dimly twinkling fairy lights once more.

She wondered if she’d see Tara again and if so which Tara it might be – if it all wasn't just a figment of her imagination.

Except she didn’t see Tara… When she opened herself to the possibility again she didn’t see Tara at all. She saw a hundred other women… or maybe just ten of them ten times. More than that? A thousand images… an infinite number of faces looking into the crystal and then looking out from it at her. Moments frozen in time.

And one face that should never… ever… have been there.

Her jaw dropped at the same time as the crystal fell from her hand and rolled along the bed covers, dropping to the floor to rest at the side of the bed.

As the crystal dropped from her grasp the world changed. The place she was in didn’t make the sense it had. The penguin upped and vanished – the desk was replaced by a dresser. The light changed and it was just from the around the drapes.

The fairy-lights didn’t twinkle any more.

And Tara – studying Tara – vanished too.

Alarm washed over her, and it was then Willow realised the nature of what was happening. Tara was gone – but Tara was here. Tara was here beside her, snoring softly. Warm and real and less fruity than she might just have been – but definitely more real.

Definitely what she wanted.

The real deal.

It was morning – she’d woken up and Tara was here. There wasn’t anything to worry about. It’d all been a dream – even the penguins. All of it, all that silliness about the crystal and the trapped images… all a dream.

Penguin’s didn’t roam their dorm room – they certainly didn’t make coffee - nor their bedroom here. Tara certainly didn’t talk to them if they did.

All a dream.

Willow shifted to fit as Tara’s hand came out and looped over her, allowing her woman to subconsciously hold her. She clasped the hand, pulling it to where she was most comfortable. Tara moaned a little, something that might’ve been intended as a word. Was she dreaming too? Were their penguins in Tara’s dreams?

Perhaps… but it was unlikely there were musings about quantum realities. That, she had to admit, was a Willow dream.

Light caught in a crystal?

How did that get into a dream?

Okay, she supposed in an infinite universe there might be a way that light could be internalised in a crystal forever… maybe. After all there was so much light.

And… where was the crystal, being as she was thinking about it?

Its place beside her on the bedside table was empty… She looked around, but couldn’t see it. Where was it? It couldn’t be gone – it’d been there when she’d gone to bed hadn’t it? Or had it?

Had Tara moved it when she cleaned? Hadn’t she noticed?

Or could Toni have come in and gotten it?

No, Toni wasn’t that quiet. And why would she? It was just a rock to her… so much more to she and Tara. Willow moved, stretching as best she could within Tara’s embrace, trying to look if she’d knocked it off or something. It couldn’t have broken could it?

Please no…

It was too precious, to both of them for that. Precious for different reasons. To her though… it was one of the first things Tara had given her.

After life.

And selfless love.

Tara, probably without knowing she was doing it, protested as Willow rolled to the edge of the bed, groaning again. “Sorry baby,” Willow murmured. But she could see it now.

There it was, on the floor – right where her feet had been when she’d… dropped the crystal in her dream?

She looked over at the other side of the room – the dresser was still a dresser, not a desk. This room was still their bedroom in the apartment – not a dorm room. Toni was still in her own room down the hall – not sharing this with them.

Miss Kitty hadn’t slaughtered any penguins for intruding on her territory, though she did open one lazy eye as Willow looked at her.

No, this wasn’t the dream.

This – this was all real, no matter how real the dream had seemed.

But there it was on the carpet by the bed – intact. Just like the dream.

That was real then? Had anything else been real? Had she dropped it in shock or knocked it off while she was dreaming?

What had she been shocked about… a face. A face that shouldn’t have been there, even if countless others should?

Willow shifted a little more, stretching to get hold of it with her fingertips. She moved closer and closer to the edge of the bed. Tara – less cooperative and considerate when asleep than she was when she was awake, moved over behind her pressing up against her and stopping her from owning more than a few inches of this double bed.

Okay, if that was the way she wanted to play it… it was time to wake up anyway.

She snagged the crystal in her fingertips and lifted it, noticing how when she raised it high enough it did catch the morning sunlight that streamed through the gaps in the drapes.

Then she peered it, making sure it wasn’t chipped or damaged. And still wondering whether anything had been real, wondering if she could catch Tara’s reflection in it when she woke her lover up? Now that’d be an image to preserve. No one looked their best in the morning. At least not unless they got a glow on.

With her other hand she pushed Tara’s hand back to rest on her thigh as the woman she loved snored into her neck, and at the same time she put the crystal back in it’s position by the lamp. Let it capture an image of what was coming next.

Quantum porn… if Tara was willing to play ball.

Bad, bad phrase. No there were no balls in their fruity fun. And no porn… the quantum was in everything though.

And then it caught her eye, the crystal again.

The person in her dream, in many of her earlier dreams, wasn’t just in her dreams. This was the real world and she’d seen him… she could see him right there in the crystal now, a moment in time from the corner of her eye. But he was there.

But he was dead.

So how could that be?

-----------------------------
Continued below in Section 2.

[Katharyn]

Part 192 Section 2 of 2 for length.

-----------------------------

“My, my, my,” he said to himself. Now that was certainly interesting. The sight of the red haired woman in the crystal had prompted him to all sorts of thoughts and one of those was…

Well, he had to be honest with himself. It was more than a little disturbing – interesting as it was. He wasn’t looking at the crystal. He wasn't looking at Ruth either. He was looking within himself for where he’d seen that red-haired woman before.

His heritage hadn’t only given him the ability to talk to himself across time, nor just a naturally long life – at least in human terms.

No, now he was focusing on those occasional flashes of insight that he’d learned not to ignore over the centuries. In his entire existence he could count the number of times they’d come to him on two hands. And they were always connected to the most significant of moments.

Even if he couldn’t always appreciate just why at the time. He’d ‘seen’ this young woman before, many years ago, and known she’d be important. But he’d had no who she was.

There were few certainties in life, and this was one of those.

His mother, bless her, was of a race that was afforded - or cursed with - the attribute of being non-linear in the temporal sense, as well as possessing the inherent immortality that had to go with such a trait. That had certainly led to plenty of misunderstandings between a son who grew up in the proper fashion and a mother whose definition of ‘doing something right now young man’ could span an eternity he’d been unable to traverse except in the linear sense.

He’d quickly learned to make notes and to meet demands he’d known about for years at just the right subjective moment for her. ‘Tidy your room now’ had kind of had to wait for the room to actually be built.

All in all, he had to say that he was glad to have experienced things sequentially in his life, with only a little help from himself to betray the fact that he was even connected to his mother’s race.

That and a lifespan that in human terms would have made him seem immortal. At least it should be… Maybe he’d make a deal or two to stop himself going gray though – distinguished was one thing, but who wanted to appear old?

Or perhaps in a few centuries it wouldn’t matter to him?

He could die… He was only protected from the ravages of age and he was, admittedly, a hardy soul who took care what he ingested.

Nutritional information and everything he’d told himself about the true nature of germs… Uggh…He was certain those were the most valuable pieces of information he could have ever have given himself. Fried food was getting kind of hard to avoid in some places. It was safer out here in the wilds with an open fire and his beans.

A healthy heart would keep the blood pumping for several more centuries.

Or should have done.

The trouble was he’d never told himself about what, it appeared, was actually going to kill him in around a century’s time.

But how could he talk about it…? He didn’t, lying on the floor with a vampire tearing his throat out, think he would be very chatty when the time came either. And after that… he’d be dead.

And that was what he’d seen.

The vampire that killed him… well, she seemed to be the very image of the woman in the crystal. The woman in the crystal was just that – a woman. Young, attractive. Not at all a vampire – but he knew enough vampires to be certain what she’d look like when the hunger took over and the demon manifested.

But was this another vision of the future in the crystal…? Certainly she was unmistakable, the red hair alone gave her away. But there, as he saw her in his mind, she was harder. Crueller and covered in blood but the same woman.

The same shape…

Human in the crystal. A vampire in his vision.

So this was how the end would come? A victim of his own success perhaps? A town where the vampires could get to him… now that would be a town ideal for demons.

He didn’t seem to be fighting her off… rather he seemed quite content to let her do the deed. And now that he knew she had a connection to the Maclay family… things could change.

Or could they?

If she was who he suspected she might be…

If things were going to change, they should have already. He should’ve been talking to himself about that. And the only reason he wouldn’t be, the reason he wouldn’t fight…

Was his death necessary? Perhaps even desirable?

Some things in life had to happen – the Maclay family certainly would come to understand that – and so it seemed, would his death at her hands.

Could it be that all he had to do was make the best of it and make sure it served some purpose.

He knew that once before, before the interference of what he assumed was a vengeance demon, he’d dreamed of dreamed of fire and books being at his end, though the time hadn’t seemed very clear other than it’d been at least a century away – that being the earliest he could ascend.

Something had certainly changed then.

From being ascended, perfect, and fighting his death… to remaining human and accepting it? Now he’d accept it because he knew about it. The circumstances and the person… or creature that would do it.

Poor thing. He couldn’t help sympathising with her. From such a pretty young thing to a demon. Dead and yet still there.

The lowest form of demon at that.

Of course, even accepting death he knew there were arrangements to be made.

Death wasn’t the end, necessary at the time perhaps, but certainly not the end. He was his mother’s son after all was said and done.

More to the point he was all the future that some people had. He intended to see to it – starting right here.

He turned to Ruth and handed the crystal back to her, knowing now that it would have to stay in this family. He couldn’t ask her to hide it away… one day it had to belong to someone else, and unless he was very much mistaken that would be the partner of the person this was all about.

“You should keep it. Always. It’s someone’s future. It needs to be here. Just like I’ll be here. I’ll always be here… For all of you. No matter what happens.”

She looked him a little strangely but he hadn’t actually meant the last comment for her. He knew now that it wasn't even the crystal. Someone… Somehow… For some time now – especially here in this house – he’d been aware of something…

A presence.

Someone was watching him and somehow he just knew it was this woman with the red hair. The same one he’d seen… kill him. And knowing what she had to know, could he blame her? He’d done enough to make a person who cared mighty ornery. And the red-haired woman should care a great deal – if she was who he thought she was.

Or at least she would until she became a vampire. Poor thing.

Standing up, he went to Ruth’s mirror and stood there adjusting his cravat wanting to be seen by the future. Mirrors had a certain power, he was sure that if he was aware of being watched by the future then the power of the mirror would let him talk directly to it.

Or perhaps he might seem a mite crazy to a right-minded person, something Ruth would remain for a few more hours at least.

The words were for the future – he wanted them to know that he knew. Now whether they knew that he knew that they knew he knew was another matter entirely. He guessed that was something that’d only come with time.

“You be sure to tell Tara that I’ll be seeing her again,” he added, just in case they could see him now. Hear him.

Between the crystal, the mirror and the sensation of being watched… he thought the message would get through.

“Who’s Tara?” Ruth asked, as confused as she had every right to be.

“No one you’ll have to worry about,” he replied and smiled into the mirror, tightening the cravat a little further now it was straight.

He and Ruth had practically finished their little chat and now, sadly, it was time to cement the future of this family. He was sure that the woman who was watching him, with the bright red hair, would approve. At least she would if she’d understood.

After all without this – she might never meet her Tara.

And Tara was going to be important to both of them, though it didn’t bode well if Tara Maclay would let the woman she loved be turned into a vampire… that was just sloppy. But there were circumstances that mitigated he was certain.

“Now I really think you should get your rest my dear, tomorrow will be at least as long a day as every other,” he advised Ruth with a smile.

And once again she laughed, genuinely laughed at his humour.

Such a shame. He wasn’t afraid to admit to himself that the joking was just a way of putting the thoughts of what he was about to do out of his mind for a little while.

He had the hair he needed to bind the effect to her, just as he had to her mother. He was ready and would only go to do the deed once the rest of the house had time to fall asleep. Once he’d had chance to work up the mixture with which he’d taint this lovely young woman. And then he’d go to his bed, satisfied – but saddened – by a job well done.

Taint… curse. What was the difference apart from the truth?

In the morning, he’d make sure he was the one who’d draw the water from the well, they’d probably even thank him for being so kindly. And they’d never know that the newly treated pail would condemn Ruth to join poor Lilly.

He turned to the mirror again and tried to show the regret he was feeling. Could he? Was it something he was capable of or was he just pulling faces?

Well, he certainly hoped they’d understand there was nothing vindictive in what he was doing. The honest truth was he didn’t have a vindictive bone in his body – and how many men could say the same?

“Why?” she asked. “Is something happening sir?”

“Something wonderful,” he mused, mainly to himself.

This part of the future would be set and he could move on to the arrangements for his town, and then to make arrangements to deal with the small matter of his own death.

----------------------------------

“Mmmm,” Tara eased out of sleep and met a sight that suggested she might still be dreaming. “Hey baby, what you doing?” Tara asked, reaching out to stroke Willow’s back, easing her hand up her lover’s t-shirt to find the very sexy bumps of her spine. Something about them… like the rest of her, there was something enticing about Willow.

And there was no finer way to greet the morning than to greet Willow.

Her girlfriend didn’t look round though, she just sat there – doing something with her hands, looking at something perhaps. Something else.

That was okay, Tara didn’t feel ‘miffed.’ Willow had done her just the night before.

And, in her turn, been done. All in all, there’d been doing enough for both of them.

“Looking,” Willow replied after a few moments, only answering when Tara hooked a finger into the elastic of her pyjama bottoms. Okay… so Willow wasn’t in that kind of mood.

“At?” Tara asked, withdrawing the finger without snapping the elastic.

Willow finally turned around, the crystal in her hand, moving so she was fully on the bed beside her, leg stretched over her for ease and, Tara supposed, balance.

It’s where she should be.

Okay, so Willow wasn’t in that kind of a mood right now, but it wouldn’t do any harm to show just who was.

She teased at Willow’s fresh t-shirt gapage, as always enjoying the sight down the front of the shirt and using a finger hooked there to try to pull her girlfriend into a kiss. It wasn’t those sassy eggs as such that enticed her, more how they were so accidentally revealed that gave her a little thrill. But Willow… resisted, in favour of looking at the crystal some more.

Why was she looking at the crystal?

Tara realised she must have allowed herself to look hurt – even though she was really just surprised – and Willow consequently gave her the kiss she’d desired. But it was a kiss of greetings as they often shared in the morning, a kiss of ‘I’m glad you’re here.’ It definitely wasn’t a kiss that said ‘lets get fruity.’

Not that she’d expected fruity, not right away anyway.

Sometimes they could go more than ten hours, or was it even less than that since last night, without having of the sex thing. And a little teasing and playing needn’t have led to the sex thing at all.

Sometimes, it was true; they just didn’t want to make love.

Shocking but true.

Toni, she was sure, would never have believed it. But when it came to interesting facts about them, Toni paid altogether too much attention to Jenny. And with Jenny no one ever knew where her teasing ended and the truth began.

Okay, so everyone was convinced they were nymphos. It wasn’t something she spent a lot of time worrying about since it was all, undoubtedly, good.

But what was on Willow’s mind to so distract her then?

“The crystal,” Willow said, turning it slowly. Seemingly to try to look at it – or perhaps into it – from every possible angle.

“Why?” Tara asked, raising herself up in bed, trying to see… well, whatever it was that Willow was trying to see. All the time stroking her girlfriends leg, and without a thought of fruitiness in her mind.

Willow certainly looked like she was searching for something, but she’d never known Willow to pay this close attention to it before. Tara had given the crystal to her years ago, and it’d never been far away from them. So what was it about her Momma’s crystal that fascinated Willow at this particular moment?

“I had a dream,” Willow said.

Oh.

Dreams again? Something about the way Willow said the word confirmed it was the same thing.

Tara stayed quiet, wanting Willow to reveal this at her own pace and in her own way. There was no point pushing. When all was said and done they were dealing with the distant past – if it was the same pattern as all the other dreams Willow had eventually thought serious enough to tell her about.

Naturally she was worried though. This was at least the second recurrence of dreams after they’d thought it had stopped.

“Did… would the crystal have been in your family back in…” Willow was plainly struggling for the words as she kept staring into the crystal.

“Back in Lilly’s time?” Tara completed.

Her girlfriend nodded, finally confirming that this was a recurrence on that old theme at the same time. But the crystal had never been involved in the dreams before. At least not that they’d known about.

But given it’s power, should they really be surprised? Shouldn’t they have considered that possibility before? Especially being as they always kept it beside the bed – and on Willow’s side no less.

“Probably,” Tara said, thinking back to what little her Momma had told her a long time ago now. Back then she’d just said the crystal had been in the family – the magic talented side of the family – for a long time. But to a younger Tara, it’d seemed like a long time over the summer vacation from school. She hadn’t realised what Momma had really meant.

“And do you think… do you think that maybe he went back there, for Ruth?” Willow asked, looking troubled by the idea.

“Is that what you saw this time?” Tara asked.

It fitted with the dreams, the impressions of those dreams, Willow had already had. But…

The ‘reality’ of it still hit her hard – just as hard as it seemed to be hitting Willow, even though there were no tears this time. No distress, just quiet acceptance of a kind. The kind mixed with silent anger.

Tara was still unsure where the true ‘reality’ was here though.

She didn’t want to, and couldn’t, dismiss it as just a dream. And she certainly didn’t dismiss either the power of dreams to reveal a truth or Willow’s belief in them, but… she had a lingering doubt. As much as she did believe there was some meaning to the dreams, she did still have doubts about this...

It was asking a lot to accept that he’d done this to Lilly, deliberately. And to her daughter now it seemed? Now? Then… waay back then.

Why? Why would he have done that?

“He went back for her,” Willow concluded sadly. “All that way back there. And they didn’t know, they welcomed him back.”

They’d seen that before… or Willow had, but they hadn’t understood what was happening. And now… they did.

If it was the true reality.

“Oh.” Such an inadequate word, but what words were there? Willow knew though, they knew each other’s minds and, when they wanted to, they could know each other’s thoughts. This was one of those times.

And as she opened herself to Willow, so Willow opened herself to her.

Willow was afraid. Not terrified. Not ‘we’re all about to die’ or anything. But there was fear in her beside the anger, and Tara didn’t think it was for Lilly’s daughter who’d long since suffered whatever her fate had been.

“Baby,” Willow said, then hesitated.

Tara asked to continue without saying a word, just a way of connecting that went beyond words.

“This time… he said your name,” Willow told her.

“He what?” Tara was caught out by that one. Up to now nothing had broken the reality that could be history. And now this?

Surely him using her name pointed more to it being ‘just’ a dream, or maybe a more subtle message in the medium of a dream. How could that be a literal truth? How could he know her name back then?

And if she hadn’t been who she was then she’d never have known there were answers to that question.

Okay, so there were ways… prophecies perhaps, they knew all about that kind of thing. But so specific as to have her name? Even Wolfram and Hart had needed to search through all kinds of possibilities to make use of the prophecy that’d concerned Willow and herself.

Prophets rarely mentioned names – that was just a fact. It gave them altogether too much chance of being wrong, something that didn’t really matter once they’d died, but in life could prove a painful mistake.

So what could it be if it wasn’t a prophecy?

“Perhaps there was another Tara back then,” she suggested, knowing she was clutching at straws. She just had a horrible feeling about what it would mean if what Willow had seen were the literal truth. A real history.

“He said it to me,” Willow said, and Tara could sense that she understood what those words might mean too. Willow was waiting for her to be shocked again, and she didn’t disappoint.

In fact she was pretty sure her mouth hung open for a moment there, with not very much sound coming from it.

“Pardon?” she managed at last. It wasn’t like she needed her girlfriend to repeat anything – but it seemed like the thing to say. What else could you say to something like that? He was talking to Willow now? And to here through her girlfriend?

Had Willow really just suggested that he’d been speaking directly to her?

“It was like he knew I was there… here, I mean. Or do I… I don’t know. But he said it to me,” Willow said. “I know it seems impossible, but… something about the crystal maybe. Maybe if he hadn’t said your name I could think he was just looking in the mirror and talking to himself or someone else but…”

Willow was right. The name did change things. A lot.

“What did he say?” she had to know, exactly what it was.

“He said something like, ‘Tell Tara I’ll be seeing her again.’”

Now what did that mean?

What could it mean? Always assuming it was real and not a figment of Willow’s mind? An interpretation of some other message… Something all mixed up. Dreams were what they were – weird.

Except these – that was what marked these out, they were so clear and there was never a penguin.

“Perhaps he already did,” she suggested. “I mean in my past… when I came to town? He did see me then, after the time of the dream.” Willow knew that – which might be why she’d dreamed it.

“He said ‘again.’ He hadn’t seen you up to then,” Willow pointed out.

She had to pick now to be logic-girl? But then what else could Willow be? And what was up with the crystal, where did that fit into all this?

“Maybe,” Tara admitted. “But he can’t see us now – or ever again. He’s dead.”

“Is he?” Willow asked, looking up from the crystal. Tara was still amazed, given all this, how much calmer was finding she could be compared to the usual aftermath of one of these dreams.

Perhaps the way out of the dream had been easier, less harsh than usual. Perhaps she’d been a bad girlfriend and failed to wake up when Willow needed her, and her girlfriend had had chance to get used to it.

Perhaps.

Willow had basically said that he’d gone back to the Maclay family and done something to Ruth, Lilly’s daughter. But there were no tears this time. No reaction except sadness. Almost as if it’d been expected? Perhaps it had just fitted into things from other dreams that hadn’t occurred to her at the time?

Still…

She took Willow’s free hand in her own, linking their fingers and bringing the combined whole upwards, between them. “He’s very dead. We know he is, even if we don’t know anything else, we know that.”

Willow knew, of course she did. She knew it better than anyone. She had the memory – from the vampire she’d been at the time – of killing him.

Tara could both see and feel it having an effect on her. Saying ‘we know’ didn’t alter the fact that Willow was the one who remembered doing it. Ripping his throat out with fangs she didn’t have anymore. Tasting the blood.

And it didn’t change the fact that the vampire Willow had once been had only done it because… because I let her know it’s what I wanted. Tara had her own guilt when it came to him.

“I had the dream,” Willow said, more with her now they were physically connected through their hands, through the leg that was intertwined with hers. “Then I had another dream, and in my other dream I was with you here… and in dorms. Some sort of weird mix of both places. And I was holding the crystal…” Willow paused. “I thought I saw something and was trying to figure out how that could be.”

“Saw something?” Tara checked, something else? More than the other thing?

“In the crystal,” Willow clarified. “Then I woke up – and the crystal was on the floor – just where it’d been at the end of my dream. So I didn’t know if it was a dream – at least not all of it. I picked it up and… I thought I saw it again. Awake. Like I am now.”

The ‘awake’ part seemed very important, and Tara could understand why. If Willow saw something, really saw something when she was awake then it wasn’t a dream at all. They’d know for sure that there was something strange was afoot at the Circle-K.

And what would that mean?

“Sure you weren’t still sleepy girl?” Tara asked, squeezing Willow’s hand. She knew she was hoping it was that, though she was prepared to admit it probably wasn’t.

“Maybe, I could’ve been,” Willow admitted. “Tough to tell sometimes.”

“But you don’t think so?”

“No.”

“So what did you see?”

“I saw him – an image in the crystal. And not just him… all sorts of people. Me and you too. Your Mom. More and more people. It was like – and this is how I was explaining it to myself in my dream, but there were penguins there too so it might not make much sense…”

“Go on,” Tara encouraged, wanting to hear it.

“I was thinking like, if the crystal was like a camera? Capturing moments in time like images. Light bouncing around inside it and never finding it’s way out?” Willow sounded doubtful, but she also sounded like she did when she had a theory.

This wasn’t the product of the dream, it was a theory about something in a dream, or maybe not just in the dream. Especially if Willow really had seen something… if the crystal in the dream had somehow been real and Willow had been caught in one of those half-dream/half-real states.

“Is that possible?” Tara wondered.

“I don’t know. Maybe… theoretically. Like at a quantum level, with a certain alignment of reflective surfaces and an absurdly improbably arrangement of the photons and light waves at just the right moment to be seen… perhaps,” Willow said. “Chaos theory would suggest it might be possible.”

“Uhuh,” Tara said.

Willow smiled, and Tara was pleased to see it. ‘Uhuh’ was just her usual response to science that went over her head. The smile didn’t last long though. Even science wasn’t much of a distraction at the moment. But a smile was a smile.

“And then he spoke to you?” she asked.

“No… the crystal was just like a static image, a moment in time,” Willow explained. “Lots of moments for lots of different people. No, he… he went to a mirror and looked at himself there, looked at me. Then he said it. And Ruth asked him who he was talking to. Who Tara was.”

But if Willow saw that somewhere other than the crystal? Could that be real? Or had she dropped off to sleep again? At least partially? That was what was so frustrating about all this. If it was real they could try to do something. If it was a dream, just a dream, they could dismiss it… but there were always enough qualities of both dreams and realities to cause them to doubt either explanation.

And more of them now.

“Then he cursed her?” Tara wondered.

“If that’s what he did,” Willow answered. “He was about to – I’m sure of it.”

So he’d done it? Were they saying that he’d really done it? All that suffering, all that hurt. And it had kept on going through the years and the generations? Was that even possible? For what? Had he really been focused on her when he’d done it – is that why he said her name?

Was it more than just Ruth and Lilly? Had he been back more recently? Say for her Mom? If it was real, had he caused it all?

Or was it somehow her fault, decades before she’d been born?

Willow, of course, could feel the questions racing through her mind when they were so clear and dominant.

“No,” she said. “Never your fault. You couldn’t have done anything about that.”

“And he’s dead,” Tara said, trying to reassure herself as much as Willow.

“Very dead,” Willow agreed, but she didn’t sound any more comforted by that fact as Tara was.

“But?” she asked.

“I don’t know – when he said that to me… it felt, he felt closer.”

“Closer?”

“It’s a bad word, I just can’t think of how else to say it. I mean like… Closer than dead.”

Closer than dead? That was closer than she ever wanted him to be again.

**************

[Forrister]

I just had one of my twisted thoughts - something along the lines of "she's being particularly sneaky by pulling off something totally unexpected while doing it right in front of our noses." I won't say what but I will say it is a very cunning plan . . . so cunning you could stick a tail on it and call it a fox. I like how you tied the doll's eye crystal into it, and how you remembered to put in the penguins!

Things seem to be moving together. I can foresee somthing very akin to a major pile up on a busy highway coming. Richard, Ethan, Darla & Dru, W&H, and coming the other way Willow and Tara, Toni, Rupert & Jenny. Sigh . . . you just love keeping us in suspense. Ah well - everyone needs a hobby.

Take care, be well, and dont work too hard on all this writing. I hope you are enjoying writing it as much as we enjoy reading it.

Forrister

Carpe Aptenodytes!
Seize the Penguins!

[chronic]

All this time I thought Wilkins didn't know why his future selves abruptly cut off, but he does know about his death, and he doesn't seem particularly worried - uh oh. I remember the video he left Tara said he'd be back, although she didn't watch it that far - does she still have the tape or did she get rid of it? So now I wonder, is this connected to Ethan's master plan, or completely seperate. Guess I'll just have to wait and see...

I remember way back in the first chronicle, Holland had a meeting with a female non-linear demon (who enjoyed eating wombats.) Was that Mrs Wilkins?

Looking forward to the next part

[Katharyn]

Kerry - I'm certain I can't tell how twisted your thoughts are on this occasion as I don't know what you're thinking!

I also have no ieda what you actually know. Or at least knew back when all this was being fed your way!

Am I being sneaky? Hmm. Not very, at least not immediatly sneaky. Long term sneaky perhaps. You'll have to tell me if it was cunning or not!

Who can forget penguins? As long as Willow is dreaming there will always be penguins *S*

There's actually more coming than you know... but that is me being cunning. For a little while yet.

And yes, I am enjoying the writing!

Thanks so much

Chronic - Now this is the other reason I like feedback from people who remember better than I (or at least saw it more recently.)

It's fair to say that in the First Chronicle the Mayor didn't have the qualities and heritage he does now. However I don't think I've contradicted anything with what I have done - except possibly what you mention here.

I think the thing is - and this was always the intent if not what ended up on 'paper' - was that he has seen certain moments of his life. Not talked to himself about it - seen it. He has no context or anything. Once he saw Sunnydale High, himself as a demon and exploding books. That's referenced here and it's, obviously, graduation day.

Then things changed.

Now... he's had another snatch of a vision, and it was someone (back then) he never knew.

Now, if that means I can say that he let Willow kill him (vamp-willow I mean) because he knew something then... works for me! I'm only trying to restate things three years after the fact!

The video! GAH! I had forgotten that. Not as in I forgot it existed, but I forgot what it said. Thanks! I need to know this stuff, it will be important later now you reminded me!

As for the female non-linear demon. Hmm. Yes, that is where the idea came from as it explained alot of things I needed to justify about him, without violating canon either. (It's very important to me not to violate canon within the realms of a "canon" Alternate Universe. In that sense this isn't an AU fic. It's a fic set in a canon that briefly was and I try to stick to that. So pull me up if I contradict it or myself!) Was that Mrs Wilkins? No reason why not! But at the time, it wasn't. I'd have to look back at how Holland treated her to decide *S*.

Thanks so much for the assistance! You should get a credit sometime in the future when that video comes to matter again!

Katharyn

[Katharyn]

Title: The Sidestep Chronicle – Second Chronicle - The Long Night – Part 1 (Part 193)
Author: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome. Katharynrosser1@hotmail.co.uk Flames just demonstrate you have a tiny mind.
Spoiler Warning: Pretty limited. The story occurs in an alternate universe as set up in “The Wish” though reference is made to events that occur in both realities. Nothing is referenced that occurs after S5 though. Guess why? Most “spoilers” would be for the first chronicle of this fic rather than the show and if you haven’t read that then much of this will make no sense but you can try and get round it by reading the preface to Part 104 which summarises most of what went before.
Distribution This story was written for Pens. Pens is its home. No archiving off Different Coloured Pens (This applies to all of the Sidestep Chronicle)
Summary: The effects of Ethan’s plans on the town.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS. All rights lie with the production company, writers etc, etc. I am making zilch from this series of stories. You know the drill.
Rating: R – a general rating for occasional content. Individual parts might be less than this level.
Couples: Tara and Willow forever – others couples as necessary but nothing unconventional.
Notes: This part takes place the night after Ethan did his stuff at the water treatment plant, also it’s the night after Willow had that last dream about the Mayor etc. This is the start of the climax of the story. Don’t worry though because the climax takes about 50 parts. We’ll be here for a year yet.
Thanks To: My own special woman Louise who helps me so much with this on top of everything else. Those other friends and family who’ve also helped us overcome everything that was put in my way. Celia and Kerry who shaped this story and continue to do so when I think back to what they told me in the past. Xita for keeping the story hanging around and continuing to give us TKTWATBW.


The Sidestep Chronicle – Second Chronicle

The Long Night – Part 1

By

Katharyn Rosser



“So, you want to tell us why you did it George?” Detective Burke asked patiently, he knew this was going to be a long night. George Reid wasn’t walking out of here this time. They all knew it. Not after what he’d done. There wasn't even really any debate about the fact he’d done it. No doubt remained for either him or his partner.

Even George wasn’t protesting it. He’d been caught in the act – he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t even bothered to wait for later at night – there were still people going home from work when he’d been caught. Potential witnesses.

This time George was going to do some hard time, if they could prove it, but Burke was still interested in why George had done it at all. Taken such a risk for no obvious pay-off.

Probably because he was George Reid and he thought he could get away with anything.

Reid had skirted the line for years, the line between making trouble and actually being in it himself. He’d made his way from stealing candy from stores through to graffiti and then on to vandalism. Ultimately, it seemed, he’d made his way to this evening and Burke had to admit it was where this kid had been heading his whole life.

Anywhere else in the country and George’s life might have taken another path – but this was Sunnydale, for better or for worse.

Sunnydale was different to other towns. It used to be different worse, now it was different better – even if it was starting ‘normalise.’ Still better though. Part of ‘better’ was that as a cop he actually got to do his job.

Also ‘better’ was that this kid wasn't on drugs. Not that many people in Sunnydale were. The few people that behaved like junkies didn’t seem to actually be shooting – for all the scars on their arms. Someone had once told him what was going on there, and it was something he’d have liked to have forgotten.

None of that was George Reid though.

He wasn’t even slightly redeemed by any childhood deprivation or trauma. There was no abuse in his background. No bullying at school – in fact as one of the biggest kids Burke had ever seen – Reid had been one of the main bullies.

He’d long ago come to the conclusion that George Reid was just a bad kid.

Burke hadn’t really believed bad kids existed until he’d met George some three years ago. He’d always been able to find a reason why kids acted out, stole or vandalised. Even if it was as trivial as boredom that at least was attributable to lack of opportunities of some kind. That wasn’t it for this one.

George Reid was a bad kid. No question about it.

He hadn’t lacked for anything in his life, including parental love and attention. He hadn’t been neglected by his parents who were as mystified as the police were why their son was the way he was. If they knew what was good for them they’d give up on their son and get on with making sure their younger daughter didn’t turn out the same way.

George’s problem was that, this time, he’d been caught in the process of committing his most serious offence yet and now he was of an age when he would be sent to the big house. No more juvie hall – not that anyone had ever managed to send him there anyway.

Burke’s problem was that George Reid had never been convicted of anything. His background wasn’t going to be laid before the jury – nothing had been proven anyway. And his other problem was that Reid had always managed to get to the witnesses who might have put him away.

Oh he’d never actually hurt anyone who could’ve testified against him, but that wasn’t the point.

Best as anyone could tell a series of accidents happened. He might have been under sixteen but the storekeepers, like Burke, believed that when petrol was poured under their door that a match would surely follow the next time.

Even when Reid was locked up the gas still found its way under the door. Nothing Reid had done had been important enough for anyone to lose their home or business – let alone anyone who might have been in there at the time.

And even catching him there, in the act, Burke wasn't sure he was going to be able to put George away. Forensics wasn’t going to make the case, so he needed his witness – there was no way Reid was going to admit to anything, not even the trespass charge they might’ve been able to pin on him just by catching him there.

He’d be shocked if he got more than a glare from this kid.

Not a kid anymore though – not legally.

That wasn’t going to be leverage though – Reid knew if he went to prison he was going to end up a very small fish in a very large pond. Sunnydale had a lack of criminals; here Reid was not so far from the top of the heap. Prison was going to be very different, and he knew it.

George didn't intend to go to prison and he’d do whatever it took to stay out – except make a deal. There wasn’t a deal on offer – but even if there had been it wouldn’t have been taken. This bad kid hated authority too. Which meant someone, maybe more than one person would get hurt to keep him out of prison.

George wasn’t stupid enough to try anything against a police officer, but that witness they had? George had to know who she was. She’d be a target, and it wasn’t like this kind of case merited a witness protection problem. Best they could do was promise to turn up as fast as they could.

And then it’d be too late.

Burke wanted George Reid put away then he could get back to more important matters. This kid was worth a good percentage of the low level crime in town – Burke was sure of that – but he was hardly Mr Big.

They had multiple murders still on the files from that damn cult – and not a single cult member either in jail or in the ground to show for it. Or at least that was the way the Mayor was choosing to look at it. She didn’t buy into the notion that there were things in Sunnydale that just couldn’t be brought to court.

Unlike the old Mayor Wilkins, who’d created an official fiction but knew exactly what was going on, the current Mayor was genuinely deluding herself over the stories the out of town papers had come up with to explain what had happened. She believed them and wanted them investigating as such. Suddenly elections were a lot more important to the police department than they ever had been before.

Say what you like about Mayor Wilkins, and he’d been bad for justice when it came to unexplained deaths, but he’d also not insisted that time was wasted on pointless investigations. Leaving more time for the crimes they could do something about.

Burke ran his hand over his bald head and got ready to start on George again. Get him off the street and it’d make a difference to a lot of lives. Taking a murderer off the street just saved a few. When it came to prioritising this kind of kid needed to be taken seriously.

Not to mention the fact that Burke was sure that one day George would kill someone. He’d go too far. Better for everyone – George included – to stop that process now.

Once upon a time something around here had kept street crime down. Way down. The same thing that had seen so many of the people get no justice at all he supposed. Seen them dead. He didn’t like to admit what that had been – even to himself – and he wasn't sure George Reid knew about it either. But it’d been there.

George had been little more than a school bully when all that had been going on.

On the days he’d bothered to turn up.

Even so, once upon a time the threat of releasing a suspect without charge – in the middle of the night – had been enough to make anyone talk in this town.

Not so today. Something had changed, and it wasn't the removal of the Mayor. Somehow he liked it better this way though – until the last four years or so, he’d been unable to be what he’d always wanted to be. A cop.

Rather than someone who hid the truth for politicians. How many files had he stamped ‘Gang Related PCP’? And yes, they’d had rubber stamps for that. He still had his somewhere.

George Reid had, somehow, survived the years when it had been so dangerous after the sun went down. He’d been what? Ten years old perhaps when it had all started, thirteen or so when things started to improve. He’d already been a troublemaker, but he’d still survived it all. Burke didn’t care how when so many other kids had fallen prey to the… things.

There were memorials at every school in the town – and he’d been to the unveiling of most of them – to mark the passing of their students.

Perhaps it was that Reid was a lot like those things – without half the excuse for it. And now it looked like he was going to be here all night with this bad kid.

A bad kid turning into a monster. Born to parents who didn't deserve that result after all they’d done for him.

“Why?” he asked again, wanting to know why Reid did anything, not just the reasons for this, his latest crime.

George just sat there and smiled.

Burke would’ve loved to wipe that smile off his face, but that wasn’t how this worked. By the book was the right way to go. There was no way he wanted to spoil this collar. It’d go to court and it’d get prosecuted. Police brutality, while satisfying in this case, wasn’t going to the reason Reid stayed on the street.

He tended to think a lot of crime would stop when George went to prison. Crime they’d never even connected with him.

At least he hoped it would. For sure people would feel much better about living in the areas he hung out in with his cronies.

“Drink that fucking water you wanted so much and then you can make your statement so I can go home,” Burke said. It was probably a mistake, showing his frustration. Cussing wasn’t against the rules, but it did make him feel a little closer to George than he liked to. Something about George, about this night, was just bringing it out of him.

But there was the fact that just about every detective on the force had been frustrated by this kid and the things he’d done over the years. A lot guys and gals with badges would’ve liked to have been in his seat right now.

Perhaps with the tape recorder off.

George was certainly no criminal mastermind and it wasn't like a he was making a ton of money out of his activities either – which implied a certain lack of basic intelligence, as well as an instinctive cruelty. Yeah, that was about right. Cruelty, not much intelligence and… cunning. Animal cunning, a way of keeping out of trouble.

Or at least not being able to be proved to be in trouble – which was all that counted for George. The kid took a sip of the water and then upturned the cup, pouring the rest all over the desk.

Burke breathed. Counted to ten. Calm. He had to be calm, collected – an authority figure. Even when water ran into his lap, and soak his notepad.

The kid smirked.

Then, fully calmed by counting to ten, he smacked George around the head – just for the smirk.

Shit.

Bad idea.

But they weren’t going to be able to nail this kid anyway. He’d get to the witness, or his ‘friends’ would. Friends who weren’t ever as lucky as George ‘Lucky’ Reid. Who could doubt that George wasn't lucky? He might even have been lucky again here.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He’d been provoked a lot worse than that down the years and he’d never, ever, hit a suspect. Not once. What was it about George that brought that out of him? He had no idea, he had no idea where that smack had come from.

Thank god the kid’s lawyer wasn’t here. This case would’ve been over already. Now he just had to hope that George would be proud enough to take the smack without complaint. This kid wasn’t going to bleat unless he had to.

George wasn’t likely to be interested in escaping conviction on a technicality like police brutality. He was going to beat the rap by destroying the whole damn case. He wanted his reputation to spread – and that meant getting to the people who could testify against him.

That was what had always worked for him in the past. And the more people who knew his reputation, the fewer who’d give evidence against him in the future. That was George’s priority here. Beating the rap by being slapped wouldn’t be good enough for him.

Unless there was no other way out for him.

Still, regardless of whether it would cost him the case or not, Burke felt somehow dirty for having snapped like that. But even though he was having to wipe up the water from the table in front of him he was damned if he was going to apologise or show any weakness. A bully loved weakness.

This kid might know he’d won – in his own head – but there was still the statement. George could still catch himself out – because he was going to have to set up some kind of alibi eventually. Perhaps he’d screw that up – they might be able to catch him out, no matter what the witness might change his story to say. It was still worth a shot.

That damn smirk the kid always had though. It infuriated him – and if any one thing stopped him from smacking the kid for his smirk, it was having smacked him around the head already. Compared to some fights he’d been in that hadn’t been more than a tap to George.

But it was still illegal.

The rest of this was going to have to be by the book, but Burke was certain that – given the half decent lawyer George’s family always seemed to find the loyalty to supply for him – this case was realistically over. Maybe this time would be different, maybe this time they’d let him swing in the breeze.

Best case they’d prove the offences and then some lawyer would get a bad kid off on a bad technicality. And he was the one who’d fucked it up.

“Something wrong, Burke?” George asked.

“Just tell your story George.” Then we can all go home. Me to my family and you to the cells, even if it’s just for one night.

“I went down there intending to just hang out,” George started.

What was that? He’d placed himself at the scene of the crime? Burke perked up. As alibi’s went this one had started out really, really sucking. More to the point George looked shocked he’d admitted to it. This…

Wasn't a story?

Not an excuse?

George didn’t have the guile for something more complicated. He’d fucked up, and he was surprised by it. Animal cunning, and a familiarity with the traps the police tended to set for him in rooms like this, should’ve stopped him making a basic mistake like that.

And George knew it.

“You put something in that water!” the kid suddenly accused.

That was an excuse that was too dumb for words – but it also meant, for some reason, this kid was telling the truth. Who’d ever heard of something in the water that’d make you lie? He was practically admitting they’d got him – if they could just draw the rest out of him and onto the tape.

The smack wouldn’t matter at all…

Maybe.

There was light at the end of the tunnel though.

“No George, perhaps you found a conscience though?” Burke suggested. Yeah, right. “Keep going,” he said. “Tell me how you came to beat that store owner up with his own bat.”

“I – ”

Burke was sure the kid was going to start his denials now, to backtrack and try to explain what they’d already known – that he’d been there at the time, but how it hadn’t been him with the bat. In fact what bat? Had someone had a bat?

“I got fucked off with how he treated me like a criminal.” Comically George slapped a hand over his lips, as if it would shut him up when he couldn’t control his mouth.

Burke couldn’t believe it, he nearly had to put his hand over his own mouth. He’d broken cases and suspects before, many times, but he’d not expected this one. Not like this anyway. He looked at his partner who shrugged, she didn’t get it either.

He basically had a confession. On tape. In front of his partner. Now he just needed the details. They might not even need any witness.

“I want my lawyer, now.”

Burke knew it was the first time this kid had been interviewed and asked for a lawyer in the middle of it, usually the lawyer came later – after he’d finished having his fun with the detectives.

George was rattled.

More than that. He was afraid of what he was saying. What he was admitting. “Of course you can have your lawyer,” he said and signalled the officer by the door to make the arrangements. “Is there anything else you want to say whilst we wait though?” Hey, couldn’t hurt to test his luck.

The tape was still rolling.

“I enjoyed the way he screamed,” George said, horrified at the words coming out of his mouth. “Jesus, get me my damn lawyer.” The kid was really frightened now.

“Sure, George,” Burke said. He’d gone from the pits of his career when he’d slapped the kid to resolving something which had been plaguing Sunnydale PD for years in the space of a few moments. “We’ll stop the tapes. I think you’ve been smart to ask for your lawyer right about now.”

The tapes clicked off and they all got ready to leave the room. All but George who wasn’t going anywhere.

“You just stay here and think about the price of the truth, George,” Burke said as he paused at the door. “You’re finally going to jail.”


---------------------------------


She’s planning something, Tara thought to herself. I can always tell when she’s planning something. Probably something to apologise for – or distract me from – last night’s dream.

As if there was anything to apologise for… Dreams were dreams. You couldn’t stop them – especially these. And it was much better to know about them than not to. Willow hadn’t even woken her up this time, it’d been morning when it’d all come out.

So Tara found that she had no need to be distracted.

Well, okay… She had to admit some kinds of distractions were just good at practically any time. It couldn’t hurt to stop worrying for a little while could it?

So she was willing to play along without tipping her hand.

Besides, she was sure Willow knew that she knew something was going on. Their connection would reveal that much. Tara didn’t push though – she was happy to let it all play out.

The game was to either find out what it was and not let on she knew more than she did now until much later, or to force Willow to admit it up front. It was a game they’d been playing for a while now and Tara couldn’t have been much closer to her girlfriend while still maintaining some level of propriety in front of Toni.

Right now Willow was lying across the length of the couch that Tara was also sat on, head in her lap. Here, surely, Tara thought she must have the advantage in the perpetual game. There was no way that Willow could hide anything from her now, while she was able to look down into girlfriend’s face… and while Willow was also so exposed to the tickling thing.

Tara had to admit that Willow was, except in the face of tickles obviously, getting to be quite accomplished at keeping her plans under wraps though.

Well no. Perhaps that wasn’t quite it.

Perhaps Willow was getting to be accomplished at keeping the details under wraps. Less so that there was a plan or a plot. The guilt and the excitement always shone through – at least to Tara who knew every single expression, every single curve of her lover’s lips…

All her curves.

All her lips when you came to looking at it that way.

Then she saw, as she was considering Willow’s lips, her girlfriend glance over at Toni who’d just come in. Oh love, I can read you like a book. A long, hot book. But a book all the same. You just can’t help yourself. You can’t help revealing yourself to me through actions even when you want to hide the words.

Now it was just her part of the game to figure out which game they were actually playing. Then she could learn the rules and ultimately win… all without moving from this spot. It was a good spot.

Willow was the instruction manual and Tara would’ve loved to allow her fingers to do the walking but there was Toni to consider. She didn’t suppose that the young woman would much care if they were to verge more towards amorous than simple affection, up to a point.

But with Toni here there were things she couldn’t do – and perhaps that was the point. Perhaps that was why Toni was with them. Could Willow have sussed that part out? That Toni’s presence would inhibit her most effective interrogation techniques, as well as providing Willow with an audience for the success she craved?

Or did their guest have a more active part to play?

That was something to be discovered, but for now Tara was a little restricted. Having an audience for anything much more than a kiss wasn’t somewhere she wanted to go, despite Toni witnessing them go a little further on the cushions last night.

Despite? Perhaps it was more a case of because Toni had caught them there, unawares last night. But then they hadn’t known she was going to be stood there to see them… it wasn’t like they’d wanted that. Oh Goddess no.

And that’d playful fun in the cushions had been the least important thing that’d happened after dark last night and into this morning, what with one thing and another.

Toni moved and caught her attention, she glanced over and found the girl had rather less talent for playing the game than Willow.

Tara could see that Toni had some sort of package under her jacket. That, together with Willow’s obviously too-casual glance confirmed that there was a shared part of this plan. Their guest was somehow involved too – actively involved – not just as an inhibiting factor to prevent the tickles descending into something Willow really had no chance of resisting.

If she’d gotten her fingertips in the right places, Willow would admit anything. That wasn’t an option given where those places were.

Hmm. So that was the way it was going to be. Willow was pulling out all the stops. She must really be feeling some regret over last night to get Toni involved…

It was silly, but Tara loved her all the more for being just who she was. And she was more than willing to play the game. Telling Willow she didn’t have to feel guilty, regretful or anything like that never worked. Did she stop feeling things just because Willow told her it wasn’t necessary?

No one did.

Best to let her play this out her own way, then they could put it in the past.

Willow liked to make things up to people; Tara wasn’t about to stand in the way of that.

On the other hand she wasn’t about to assume that it was the pay-off that was supposed to unnecessarily make it up to her. It was probably more about the distraction than the pay-off.

So she could try to win that without a hint of guilt for spoiling Willow’s… whatever it was.

As for allies of her own… It looked like Miss Kitty was on her side – or at least staying out of it and doing her own thing. The cat decided, as Toni sat down awkwardly to keep whatever was under her jacket hidden, that the most comfy spot in the room would be on Toni.

Of course.

Oh yes, Miss Kitty was on no one’s side but her own. To expect otherwise was deny her very nature.

Though she might give the impression of nonchalant superiority the advantage of living furniture was that it suited their cat’s innate ‘I am due your attention’ attitude.

Tara had often thought that Miss Kitty probably despised the part of herself that needed human attention – but she managed to carry it off in a very regal way. Attention, when she wanted it, was her due. The fact she’d ensure it was paid to her any way she could didn’t alter the fact it was her due.

As a superior being.

Kinda like Willow. Sometimes.

More often when Toni wasn’t around or they were in their own room.

Tara watched the scene unfold with some interest. Toni was shifting, adapting to Miss Kitty’s presence but hadn’t started to stroke her – which was just annoying the cat. Miss Kitty wanted attention at the point she asked for it. Delay wasn’t an acceptable option.

Toni actually thought for a moment, Tara was sure she did, about lifting the cat from her lap. Now that would have been risky. That would’ve taken some courage – courage that Tara knew Toni didn’t lack. But…

Miss Kitty gave the girl a look that said ‘You don’t want to do that.’ Miss Kitty knew.

Naturally it also said ‘stroke me now.’

Humans were no more, at times, than attentive furniture to proud felines.

Or feline whores for attention, which Miss Kitty was capable of being – especially when catnip was involved.

Tara forced herself not to smile as Toni was forced to sit there while Miss Kitty made herself comfortable again, pushing her head at Toni’s hand for instant gratification. The waves of pleasure from the cat were palpable as Toni started to obey. The waves of discomfort from Willow were also just as clear.

So their cat had gotten in the way of the plan.

Toni had the goods and needed to get up to do something with them. It’d been a tactical error for Toni to sit down at all, Willow realised that now.

So what did that mean?

It meant that whatever it was Toni had hidden wasn’t something she could use, or show, from right where she was on the couch. It couldn’t be that big either… it was easily under Toni’s jacket. Options narrowed, a little, in Tara’s mind.

And then whole new ideas opened up. There were so many ways Willow could find to embarrass her… but perhaps fewer that could involve Toni, so the girl’s presence worked both ways.

She couldn’t guess what it was without any evidence, though why it was a secret was more obvious. It was plainly because it was a tease for Tara, and a certain redhead wanted her teased very badly – especially after the comment she’d made just last night about her lover not looking a day over twenty-five.

She was still waiting for the payback on that one, she didn’t delude herself that their love making of a few hours after those words were spoken had had satisfied Willow.

Okay, she was very sure it had satisfied Willow, but not so far as that joke was concerned.

She knew what Willow was going to have to do to even that score, she was just surprised that her girlfriend had left it as long as she had. But for this mornings revelation of the dream it probably would’ve come soon.

Hmm.

Now that Miss Kitty had spoiled things, Tara could sense Willow figuring out when she could go over and take the goods from Toni without giving the game away. But the game was already obvious – Tara was playing the game with them, on her own terms.

Did Willow realise that yet? She would, eventually, but had she already?

And what would she do about it?

It only took a moment to know. Willow was going to get up. It was probably going to be very casually done. It was almost certainly going to be after a moment of shifting, stretching and perhaps even the implied problem of pins and needles. But Willow had to get up. She had to go over to Toni and secure the not very well hidden package. She was the only one who could carry the game through now.

Or at least Willow thought she was going to get up. Tara had other ideas.

Just as Willow moved, starting to do the stretching and shifting she’d been expecting, Tara made her own moves. She quickly took advantage of Willow’s new, transitional body position. She moved her hands. One of them found its way into her girlfriend’s lustrous hair, entwining gently and lovingly, as if the preamble to spending some time brushing it for her, something could make Willow purr like Miss Kitty.

The other hand she closed around Willow’s body, as if in loving embrace. Okay, she was also gently cupping one breast as her forearm covered the other, but no one was going to mind.

Naturally, for a night in front of the TV in her nightshirt, Willow didn’t even bother with a bra. Which could have given the one type of freedom necessary to make this an even nicer distraction, but they were both – in their ways – focused on the game without giving away they were even playing it.

Distractions like these sassy eggs were beyond the point.

The hands gave Willow pause though.

It wasn’t like she was actually doing anything with Willow’s breast – she was just resting her hand there. Resting quite firmly, but without edging into groping or petting. This way up, with gravity doing its thing it wasn’t even like there was a lot to hold on to.

After all, Toni was here. Just because she was taking part in the game didn’t mean the girl should be watching how the game was often played out. This was a new, less sensual, game.

But it was, actually, a much more comfortable way to hold Willow than it had been before. With the advantage of having that potentially sexual edge to it, she had to admit. The hand in Willow’s hair, at her earlobe was much more active though.

She looked over and she could see they’d made Toni smile. It was an expression that spoke of an appreciation of – or at least not being phased by – the affection they were showing. And it was probably a subtle acknowledgement that the girl knew Tara was playing the game now too.

Normally breasts weren’t something involved much when Toni was in the room with them. But right now Willowbreast was just a place to put her hand, mostly to hold onto her girlfriend.

Whether Willow, who was automatically snuggling up against her hands now, realised the same thing Tara wasn’t sure. Toni had a better view of her than Tara did now. Of both of them.

If she was running true to form, then Willow just had an expression that was the human equivalent of Miss Kitty when someone was paying just the right kind of attention to her. Tara wouldn’t have been surprised to hear Willow purr.

Just like the cat in Toni’s lap.

Her girlfriend, like Miss Kitty, was a whore for that sort of attention.

Tara smiled to herself. Once upon a time she’d never have defiled her perfect image of Willow by attaching the word ‘whore’ to her. Now, as with their cat, she knew much better. There really was no other word that would do when Willow was like this.

So… Everyone knew that everyone was playing the game – apart from Willow who seemed to think the game had changed to ‘Gently Grope the Redhead.’ There was a curious symmetry between herself and Toni. Both of them had something in their laps that very much enjoyed the attention.

She wasn’t even going to get into the whole ‘pussy’ angle though, that was a recipe for lingual disaster.

Certainly not with Toni.

First she wanted to beat them at their own game, by actually finding out what the game was. She’d get them to admit it – no matter how much time it took – or force them to give up with their trick. Either would be a success, but curiosity would only be satisfied when she knew what they were playing at. The game had a way to go yet.

Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it didn’t mean it was all bad for pussy.

“Where were you going lover?” she asked the woman in her hands after a few moments. It was obvious that Toni needed no translation, which was good because where was she going to find a hand now?

Willow, appreciating the touch of those hands, translated for Toni instead of Tara moving them, then continued to sign as she made her reply. “I was about to get up and put a DVD on. Toni has it hidden under her jacket there. We thought it was going to be a really good trick to play on you and that it would be, you know, really funny to do that. We’d get to see you blush and everything.”

Toni looked surprised it’d been given away but held up the box, looking at her own hand as if it belonged to someone else.

If Toni was surprised then Tara was definitely shocked. Willow was beyond this. There had been a time when Willow, ever so nervous about the silliest little things, hadn’t been able to keep a secret or play this kind of game.

But that was a long way in the past – all the more so since Toni had come to live with them. They were natural partners in crime. Toni freed the part of Willow that wanted to be less adult and responsible.

Were her hands having such an effect on her lover? Because she knew, through their connection, that now Willow was being entirely honest with her. In a sentence the whole game had been given away and just… ended.

All the planning and plotting had been for precisely… nothing.

Tara looked over at what they’d got. A DVD? What was that going to be?

Debbie Gibson – Live in Concert.

Okaaaay.

They were going to make her watch that? Then they’d have probably said how wonderful it was, much better than the alternatives of the time – a non-too-subtle dig at Debbie’s big rival, whom Tara had liked a lot more.

They’d have tried to make her admit it was good.

And for that sort of trick this had been waaaaay to easy to beat.

Super Easy.

With bells on.

That DVD should’ve been on, shown the federal warning and the preppy Debbie should’ve been bounding around the stage to her eighties pop before the game would’ve ended. And even then they’d have been looking to make her like it. There should’ve been comments about taste in music, as well as teenage crushes. Not to mention the whole Tiffany rivalry.

She was sure Willow would’ve loved to get hold of a Tiffany DVD – but she really didn’t think there were any. So it would’ve come down to explanations about it all for Toni, the rivalry and all of it.

Then comments about how Willow had always liked blondes, while she had always gone for redheads. She was sure Willow had it worked out in her head. She might even have notes… even if there were very few places she could’ve hidden them at the moment.

The aim would always have been her embarrassment though.

Instead… this?

What Willow failed to realise was that Toni was hardly likely to be impressed by Debbie either. Toni would probably play along, pick Willow’s side, but it would actually be just as damning for Willow to reveal her liking for this music.

At least in Toni’s eyes – and it would be a visual thing. Toni, naturally, wouldn’t hear the music, so it’d all be a visual cue and anything from the 80’s was bound to look bad.

Worse than bad.

She squeezed Willow in a way that promised retribution to follow. Playful retribution, but retribution all the same. Like a trick – but handled better than these two had managed tonight. It was a reassurance in a way, showing Willow that it didn’t matter that it’d all gone wrong.

She’d still get her back.

Because that was the nature – nay the rules – of the game.

Willow and Toni were looking at each other, seemingly still surprised at having owned up like that. Willow even shrugged, a gesture Toni matched. Tara was surprised too, now she knew what was going on. Honesty had made it a total damp squib.

So now what would they do?

Miss Kitty didn’t care; she just pushed her head under Toni’s hand again and this time didn’t let the girl stop stroking her.

Willow didn’t choose to move her head like that – but Tara did find that rather attractive breast more firmly pushed into her hand as her girlfriend settled down to watching TV in her arms.

Maybe they’d get to the DVD, but not right away.

--------------------------

Willow shifted in her lover’s grasp and pushed her breast into Tara’s hand. It wasn’t just damage limitation. Tara wouldn’t hold a trick against her – though she might have her make up for it in some, no doubt very pleasurable, way soon enough.

If it’d gone through properly then the games would surely have continued into the bedroom later. Not that they couldn’t still do that… but there might’ve been an extra edge to them. She really was in the mood for firm-Tara.

On the other hand, or in it, she enjoyed being here like this too – apart from the fact she’d have enjoyed being like this and having played the trick even more.

That way she’d have been more likely to end up with firm-Tara.

This honesty hadn’t been part of the plan though, not at all. She had no idea where it’d come from. She’d even been careful to keep all thoughts of the game, the trick, from the surface of her mind where Tara could pick up on them through their connection. Something that wasn’t easy to do without actually shutting Tara out… something she didn’t want to do for more than one reason.

It had been a simple enough trick too. Toni had thought it would be funny after Willow had let her in on the whole Debbie/Tiffany rivalry. Okay, so the girl had only a vague knowledge of who either of those singers were, it’d taken some calls to music channel retro shows to get the videos on the TV for her, but she’d gotten the idea.

Sounds of the 80’s when Toni hadn’t even been born, wasn’t really common ground for them.

Not just for the deaf factor. It was… ‘before her time.’

That’d disturbed Willow a little. Since when had anything she’d liked become ‘before her time.’ Before anyone’s time?

Did that mean the things Toni liked were ‘after her time’?

This was their time. Their time was whenever 'now' was and it was tough to believe there was anything before or after that. Anything that wasn’t in their time.

Except old people stuff.

And kids TV shows that… we’ll they just weren’t like the old days.

They were still kids – much as Tara insisted on teasing her about her age. Like that crack last night… That hadn’t been funny. She didn’t look twenty-five! They were still kids… weren’t they?

Couldn’t they still be ‘the youth of today’? She was in her early twenties… That made her only just a little older than a ‘kid.’ Didn’t it?

Maybe she could bring it up with Tara later, maybe the (even) older woman could determine when their time had been and when it would come around again – or even if it had never passed them by, which was what Willow wanted to believe.

They weren’t old. Only Rupert was in a position to talk about stuff like that, he was, after all, a child of the sixties.

And not the good part of the sixties. He’d been in the tweedy, stick in the mud part of the sixties. A little young for the swinging, and probably already in librarian training.

They hadn’t been picking on Tara though, not when it was genuinely funny. It was just the dynamic of the relationship they all had. A dynamic that was somehow different now Toni was around.

Somehow Willow had to admit that she felt like a naughty schoolgirl going behind teacher’s back. Perhaps – having never done that – subconsciously she felt she’d missed out and wanted to have the chance to try it?

They hadn’t gotten hold of a Tiffany DVD – they hadn’t even been able to prove one had ever existed, which was just a commentary on who’d won the war, but Debbie should’ve worked just as well. She’d known what she was going to say…

And they’d have gone to bed laughing, forgetting all about the morning’s revelations. Going to bed wouldn’t have been the end either. Somehow she just couldn’t get firm-Tara out of her head.

What she hadn’t wanted to do was to spill her guts and own up to the whole thing just because Tara asked a general question.

Was she so deep down guilty? Was Tara’s hold over her so profound… it was only a hand on her boob after all? Perhaps it was a larger hold she was thinking of. Perhaps she was under the thumb.

No.

She could think of many uses for Tarathumbs, but she wasn’t under it except in the literally physical sense.

Oh she’d never expected to be able to stop Tara knowing there was something happening, but she’d have never guessed what it was. No way, no how. This was way under the radar; she’d even sent Toni out to pick up the DVD.

There was no way Tara could have known the details. Not until she’d admitted it anyway.

So why’d she admitted it so easily?

It’d been like confession, and she was Jewish! Well, Wiccan by way of Judaism. She was pretty sure that if she’d been a person who needed to confess she should’ve had the benefits of Christmas.

So why had Toni gone along with her blurting it out? Why had Toni revealed it too? The girl had held the DVD up even as she translated the question, before she’d even blurted it out herself.

Why had she done that?

And why did it feel so good to be in her lover’s arms and hands, and that thing Tara was doing to her ear…? It made her shiver in a good, good way.

Mmmmm Tarahands, it was tough to think about anything else when you were in them.

Perhaps Tara could still be firm… she didn’t want her girlfriend feeling sorry for her because the trick had failed. Firm would be better… Sometimes firm was good.

--------------------------

“Gentlemen,” Ethan said warmly, trying to avoid an incident. “And ladies, of course,” he added to the Forahl demons to his left. “I seem to have cleaned you all out, so I have to conclude that the table is closed and the game is over.”

He had kittens and kittens and kittens.

He had more kittens than he’d ever seen in one place. Even when he’d been young and his mother had dragged him into pet stores to placate his younger cousins he’d never seen as many small cats as this.

Hmm, now there was a thought – he could go into business.

Kittens had to be even easier to sell than roses. Not quite so controllable and he knew much better than to ever try a ritual on a cat, even one that was just a few weeks old. He knew better than to even try magic on the icon of anything resembling a feline. There were some things you just didn’t do.

Or at least you didn’t do them twice.

Like annoying any of the gods and goddesses unnecessarily. He was already on thin ice in that department and it wasn’t like they were big on giving warnings.

He sighed, knowing that all his winnings were going to have to be disposed of very carefully indeed. Sale probably wasn’t an option and dropping them in the river in a sack was so far out of consideration it’d take a plane to get him there. No… that would be very bad.

Emphasis on ‘very.’

Then emphasis on ‘bad.’

Ethan hadn’t set out to rescue the stakes he'd been playing poker for, but now he had three baskets and a lap full of kittens. Rescue seemed like the only course of action that was open to him. He knew all too well the nature of the god who considered felines to be his/her province.

If any harm came to any one of them he was quite sure he’d wake up several times smaller than he had gone to sleep, and with whiskers.

Again.

If he was lucky.

And if he let that happen then this time it most assuredly wouldn’t just be for a few days.

Had his fellow players won the kittens he didn’t suppose they would’ve lasted long. That was why they had value to the demons.

But in his hands, rather than eat or sacrifice them, he'd have to deliver them to the nearest shelter and use that good deed to buy him out of feline trouble, or at least not to get any deeper into feline trouble. Who knew whether the God(dess) of Cats would take offence if he’d just let these baskets go to their fate by playing.

Not that he could lose…

Helping to set things right with such a powerful deity… They could be useful to him in that regard, if not essential. It’d save him diverting thirteen paces around any cat he saw, twenty-six if it was black. He didn’t dare let one cross his path.

He quite liked cats but had no use for one of his own, let alone twenty or more.

He supposed that there was no way he could stop twenty kittens crossing his path, even in the night he’d have to look after them before he could find a shelter. But hopefully his impending good deed would be taken into consideration.

Yes, that should be all right. If the God(dess) was going to be pedantic then he might as well go buy himself a collar with a bell and a some flea powder right now.

But perhaps there was something he could do… he had to keep the kittens, he had to or he was going to find himself cursed. But he could put them up again as stakes, to get something else off these kitten loving demons.

Kitten loving in the same way he loved pork scratching, pork rinds as they were called in this heathen country.

Yes, he could do this. Tonight he couldn’t lose… Finish the game, head back and arrange all these kittens for the night, then head to work. Sounded good.

Some of his fellow players buried their heads in their tentacles, ears or hands at the news he was done for the night, so he’d be pleased to accommodate them again.

Others snarled but not a one of them took any action against the pax of the table.

There could never be any fighting. No threats. Not in the game. Not in poker. Ethan had been playing with those from the underworld since university and this was his biggest win, but even though he was ‘just’ a human, he’d never seen the pax violated. It was in no ones interests to forget why they were here.

Of course from the demons point of view, humans didn't play poker for the big stakes, not in games like this. It wasn’t believed they had the senses for it. It took an almost mystical ability to outwit a demon that could probably just sniff and know whether you were bluffing or not.

Or against one who could see the heat of the blood gathering in the tell tale points of your body. And as for figuring out when they were bluffing? That was a whole new problem. Every different species was as difficult to figure out as humans had been when he’d been starting out in the game.

Or very occasionally easier.

The point was it took a very special human to play this game, here and win.

Even if it was for kittens. Kittens were the big money hereabouts – highly prized. Highly prized by demons that now didn’t have the money to buy them from him. Not that he could let them.

So he was kitten-rich and cash-poor, even though – to them – he had the biggest pile of winnings this table had ever seen.

“ Not done,” one of the Forahl snarled. It might’ve been the female, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. “Need chance to win kittens back.”

“No,” Ethan said simply, taking a few seconds to translate what they’d said.

“No?” the Forahl who was furthest from him questioned in their peculiar dialect. “Still here. Table open!”

Of any of them he was most worried about the two Forahl. The whole concept of a pax usually seemed to be beyond them. As was restraint. Basically the only purpose they served was as muscle and the biggest muscle they had was between their ears. They weren’t good poker players – but they did enjoy it. They practically drooled every time a kitten was added to the pot.

“No,” he repeated. “Unless… No, you wouldn’t be interested.” There, tantalise them with an offer to stay and get what he needed. He’d probably never have this chance again.

“Unless?!”

He pulled out a roll of money and dropped it in the centre of the table. Now was the time to see what kittens were really worth to them. And they wouldn’t believe their losing streak could go on any longer.

“Human paper?” the other Forahl checked.

Ethan nodded. “You probably all have some, its worthless to most of you but not to me. I can explain the numbers so you can understand the different values.”

“Why?” the Forahl asked.

“Simple. I can use it – though obviously it doesn’t hold the same attraction as the kittens.” He held a kitten up to tempt them, only mildly put off when the one with the floppy ears started drooling at the sight. “Now we play for money and when you clean me out then you can buy the kittens off me.”

“If we win. It’s been a bad night so far,” Floppy said.

“If you win.” He’d been careful to fold on some good hands, even though some of those would’ve helped him clean up much quicker, just to avoid suspicion. But eventually he’d known he’d clean them out. And he would again.

They’d all had the water. They couldn’t lie – so they couldn’t bluff. A lie that was unspoken was still a lie and they were incapable of it so their strong or weak hands were obvious to him. Meanwhile the totems woven into the cloth of the table betrayed no use of magic, so how could the human be doing anything to them?

It was just a bad night.

“But then what do you have to lose?” he added.

He directed the question to the chaos demon at opposite side of the table. “You wouldn’t wipe your horns on that paper, but it has some value to me. I’d be sad to lose the kittens for paper, but I know how much they mean to you all. When, and if, you win then you get to buy back the kittens and at least break even. Everyone will be happy. If you lose… well, I’m sure you can come by more paper money?”

He could see the thoughts working on them – each species in a different way. But when you came right down to it this was about kittens – they were addicted to the kittens.

He’d have to make sure there wasn’t any special dealing going on when he took the little cats down to the animal welfare. He wouldn’t please the God(dess) of Cats by just allowing them to end up here again. And he was sure some of them would have, unless they were breeding them themselves they had to be getting these balls of fur from somewhere.

So all there was to do now was to agree an exchange rate. What they were prepared to offer in cash for the small bundles of fur… it was surprising, but then most of them didn’t understand money.

He couldn’t have got as much if he’d been breeding pedigree cats. He’d certainly never thought he’d make so much in a friendly poker game before work.

So all that agreed he dealt the next hand to them.

Even if he lost he’d have the money.

Of course he really couldn’t lose and a few hours later he had all their money and all their kittens too.

It was more than he’d hoped for, enough to fund another of his little events, and the God(dess) of Cats should be very, very pleased with him. Maybe even pleased enough to forgive a few past transgressions that he hadn’t actually been punished for yet.

Just to cement his status as a cat person he was even thinking of keeping his original one kitten stake, which was the only one still out of the basket lap as he counted his money. Meanwhile, one by one, the other players slunk off, cursing their bad luck.

And unable to blame him, if they had they’d have been compelled to tell him when he’d asked how they were doing.

The kitten in his lap mewled pitifully. He didn’t need a familiar, but he was getting just a little attached to this little fella. “I think, if I keep you, I shall call you Tiger. In honour of a certain nameless someone of course.”

Gods and Goddesses were suckers for that sort of thing. They were easily offended, but they were also as easily flattered as anyone else too. Perhaps more easily flattered.

Whether or not he was a cat person, he was certainly a god person, when he had the chance, just like he was a people person. It never hurt to make nice.

But was he a cat person? Time to find out.

“How are we going to get all your little friends out of here?” he asked the newly named Tiger, not expecting an answer but it wouldn’t have totally shocked him if he’d gotten one.

The God(dess) was known for that too.

The kitten mewled again, less pitifully as it looked down at all the other kittens. Haughty already, it knew it was better placed than they were, and made it’s opinion known.

“Now that’s a good idea,” he admitted.

Cats, you just had to love their practicality.

--------------------------

[Katharyn]

*So Toni,* Tara signed as the credits rolled on the concert DVD.

Waste not, want not. And those had been catchy tunes, she had to admit it. Even if it was the dreaded Debbie.

Willow had been the one enjoying it most though – that was for sure. Her foot had been tapping – which had amused Miss Kitty for all of three seconds until the lure of Toni’s attention had drawn the cat back over the other side of the room.

Tara had to admit to gently singing to herself in places – which had amused Willow for a great deal longer than three seconds. It probably seemed like Debbie had ‘won’ or something… Honestly though, if the media and music industry hadn’t created a ‘fight’ between Tiffany and Debbie way back when… Tara might’ve followed Debbie anyway, just like Willow had.

But since there had been a Tiffany… nah.

And despite the obvious lack of attractions to the girl, Toni had stuck around. Okay, so they’d turned the subtitles on, but even so. It was music from before she was born… and she was deaf. Nor was it loud enough for her to feel the vibrations. No huge bass beats in any of Debbie’s songs that would let Toni be a part of it due to the feel of the music.

So where was the attraction for her?

Perhaps it was Miss Kitty. Perhaps it was just being there with them… that would be nice of her, and a good sign about how things were going.

Or perhaps Toni had been hoping the game would be resurrected.

Maybe she even felt guilty? Possible… but was it guilt about being involved in Willow’s trick or guilt about giving it away so easily?

When she knew that without being told, Tara realised she’d really know the girl.

Subtitles. To songs though.

That was, maybe, the only time she hadn’t thought Toni was being well served. It didn’t seem like music – let alone eighties pop - could be quite as much fun when you could make out what they were actually singing. It was one thing to read and analyse the words, it was quite another to [know them.

She was sure the whole thing had just been Willow’s idea. Toni had simply been the accomplice. Toni, even if she’d known about the loving rivalry she and Willow had over Tiffany and Debbie, would never have come up with anything like this.

It wasn’t the deaf girl’s idea of funny.

But Willow she could deal with later. Toni had to come first – just so she’d be able to make the link between cause and effect.

Even though some uncharacteristic desire to spill the beans early had spoiled the surprise, Toni still needed to realise the error of her ways.

Jenny would never have let her get away with it, and it struck Tara that she shouldn’t be any different in that regarded. Discipline had to be fair and even-handed.

Especially after the comments she’d made about Tiffany. What was it the girl had said? ‘So Tiffany was the one that sucked?’

Just as Tara had been about to respond to that Toni had added the last word. ‘Worse,’ denigrating what they were watching as well. Willow hadn’t been able to come up with much of an answer to that at the time.

But looking at and listening to the DVD Tara had to come to the conclusion that a large part of either of their liking for Debbie and Tiffany probably had more to do with the idea of attractive young women – incidentally a red head and a blonde – who seemed to making successes of themselves.

She’d certainly admit that even back then home had seemed… repressive. She’d just been becoming aware that not everyone’s Mom was looked up for several days a month. She seemed to remember her Dad not responding well to questions about that.

The idea of being free to sing and dance and be a pop star… well, it had seemed attractive back then.

Because the Goddess knew the music really… wasn’t.

None of which changed the fact that Toni needed to be taught a lesson.

Now she had the girl’s attention as Toni’s eyebrows raised, waiting for more. She looked pretty dubious in fact. Did she have an inkling what was coming?

*Just what were you and Mal up to last night?* Tara asked.

With the way they were sat she was having to use Willow in place of herself in the signing. So that her girlfriend could see what she was saying her hands were up in front of Will, and when they needed to point to a head, or part of the body it was Willow’s she used. It’d taken her ages to get used to that – but she was pleased it was something she could do.

Signing felt more… She supposed the word was ‘casual.’ Automatic even, not something she had to think about unless there was a word she couldn’t remember or didn’t know. It was beginning to feel natural and easy and there was always Toni to fill in vocabulary gaps.

Or sometimes even Willow – they helped each other out as they did in everything else.

Nearly everything else.

Would Willow join her now? Would she turn on her erstwhile ally? And if she did would it be because that was just the way things were, or to divert attention from her own guilt? She certainly hadn’t told Willow she was going to ask the question.

What would she do?

As Toni flushed beetroot red, her girlfriend clapped and gave a mini-cheer. *Yeah Toni,* Willow said. *What were you and that boy of yours doing last night?*

So much for Willow being determined they weren’t going to embarrass the girl about it, after that performance last night it was a little rich.

And so much for Willow and Toni’s temporary alliance too? Perhaps Willow understood just where her best interests lay?

And sure as rain fell from the sky Jenny would know not long after they got an answer from Toni… If they got an answer. Willow would see to that too because she was utterly unable to resist Jenny’s ability to tease that kind of information out of you.

Tara was pretty sure how this should’ve gone though.

Toni should have blushed. Okay, that was checked off the list.

Toni should’ve denied that he was ‘her boy’ at all.

Toni should’ve denied she was doing anything at all with him – even if he was ‘her boy’ - apart from studying of course.

Toni should’ve demanded to know what they thought they knew – and why.

Toni would criticise them, tell them to butt out of her personal life and leave the room.

It should’ve been as easy as that. No real answer – at least none Toni would admit to.

But what were they supposed to do? Pretend it wasn’t happening? Just because she didn’t expect to get an answer didn’t mean the question wasn’t worth asking. Every denial was another sign that they were on the right lines, and this way Toni would know they knew it. And they’d know Toni knew they knew.

Hopefully the teenager wouldn’t need to feel embarrassed if she did want to ask something – or talk about it.

Not ‘the talk’ because Tara was really hoping that wasn’t necessary until Toni was… oh say twenty-five or so? But talk, in general.

They could advise on matters of the heart – they were qualified. Willow even had some experience with boys. Well, a boy. And it wasn’t so much ‘experience’ as ‘thoughts about’ one. But it was about all the hetero experience they had between them.

Just so long as it wasn’t the physical side Toni wanted to talk about. She wasn’t sure how they’d deal with that.

But there it was – that was the big plan. She’d not only teased Toni enough to get back at her for collaborating with Willow, but she’d also tried to make light of the fact Toni was spending a lot of time with a boy. Maybe make the girl willing to really talk, if she ever needed to.

Tara had to admit this was really Jenny’s way of dealing with people – and it had their friend’s track record to prove its success. They could approach the whole thing as a joke, a tease and not as ‘old people’ or parental figures.

She didn’t expect Toni to actually tell them – even if she didn’t walk out – but that was okay. Toni would know now that they weren’t going to be all heavy and critical about it. Whatever it was exactly. She’d know she could trust them not to do that.

At least Tara hoped so.

What she hadn’t expected was an actual answer. That kind of thing really didn’t happen. Especially not with Toni.

It didn’t look like Toni expected either. *We kissed,* she said almost immediately.

As Willow had before, when she’d admitted to the DVD, Toni didn’t look like she’d expected to come clean. She looked at her own fingers as if they’d betrayed her somehow. As if they weren’t a part of her and were telling tales, talking out of turn.

And that left her the problem of not being sure what to say in reply. It hadn’t really been a factor she’d considered. Of course she had to tell the truth – but what was the truth? And how should she reveal it? What [I[could[/I] she say to something like that?

Good? Was she pleased they’d kissed?

She couldn’t admit they’d known – or at least assumed.

But was she pleased?

Well, she wasn’t displeased Toni seemed to have found a boyfriend. The girl deserved some extra happiness in her life. She deserved friends and someone to be close to who was her own age – much as Willow liked to dispute that they weren’t Toni’s ‘own age.’

And she was glad that person was Mal if it had to be anyone.

On the other hand…

Toni was kissing a boy, in her room in their apartment.

So what could she say? Toni was waiting – heck, even Willow was waiting. Her reaction was obviously the big mystery. What would she do? What would she say? The truth pushed itself to the front of her mind, refusing to be pushed back… not that she wanted to.

*That’s nice,* Tara signed finally.

What else could she have said? It was the truth. It was nice. Much as she might worry about the general subject of teenage boys and girls. Much as she wanted Toni to be happy. It was ‘nice.’

And it was clearly the wrong thing to say, but could the truth be wrong? Her girlfriend gave her a harrumph for choosing those words. Toni looked to the ceiling as if it was the sky and even Miss Kitty didn’t look very impressed but whether she understood or not was debatable.

If Miss Kitty knew, did she care?

Once upon a time Willow had wondered just what prolonged exposure to a magically charged atmosphere would do to a cat. Was there any truth in the myths behind witches and their cats?

Kind of irrelevant now, and they were talking about Toni.

*It was nice wasn’t it?* Willow asked, providing some back up for her. Tara favoured her girl with a kiss on the top of the head in silent thanks.

Besides, Willow would be enjoying the blushes she was eliciting from Toni, another one for that question. Oh yes, Willow deserved to be dealt with later. She couldn’t even show any loyalty to her partner in crime.

*I guess* Toni signed, then sighed heavily, as if she hadn’t expected to make that simple sign either.

But she didn’t move, which surprised Tara. Toni was a strong willed young woman, not easily daunted or thrown by events. Even so, this had to be testing her resolve? To stand – well sit – here and admit things like this to the two closest parental figures she had?

Tara knew, knew for certain that if her own parents had been asking her these question back when she was Toni’s age…

Well, there’d have been nothing to tell. Even if they’d been alive. But if there had been something to tell then she’d…

She’d have been outing herself if she’d told them the whole truth.

Not that they hadn’t known where her blossoming sexuality had been leading her – at least her Mom had – but they’d never had… ‘the talk’ about it. It’d just kind of been taken as a given and ignored. Besides her Dad had been more interested in ‘my daughter will have a demon inside her’ than ‘spot the lesbian.’

Willow had certainly never quite accepted that twisted by generations of lies as her Dad had been, he’d never once made a comment about the sexuality he had to have known about. If only because he and momma shared everything.

Not a comment, not a worry… not even a look. Tara believed he’d have sent her to college – if things had been different – and he’d have never have given a moments thought to whether she might actually find herself a girlfriend. He might’ve even have wished her well in that… That’d been the plan – that’d been the way it had always been for Maclay women.

You lived your life as best you could until you were twenty, then you came home.

He’d just have worried about the demon he’d believed in…

No demons for Toni.

The young woman was doing well. If she’d just outed herself to her parents, or even just admitted she’d kissed someone… Well, back then she’d have been stammering uncontrollably. Probably incoherently. They’d have let her go in sympathy and nothing would’ve actually been said. Stammering kinda had the same effect as storming out. It just took longer, with less slamming doors.

But Toni hadn’t done that anyway.

Perhaps she was assuming too much about Toni. Neither she nor Willow had ever tried to demand her attention. The girl could still run out of the room and slam her bedroom door to get away from them. But as embarrassed and uncomfortable as she looked there, Toni didn’t move.

And that was the real surprise.

*You guess?* Tara signed.

*You guess?* Willow repeated a moment later – with a little more emphasis. *What could be bad?*

“Willow…” Tara said quietly, but her girlfriend ignored her.

*It wasn’t bad!* Toni responded quickly and urgently.

Now there was a review of the evening that Jenny would’ve loved to see. ‘It wasn’t bad’ could be taken a few ways. The less effusive version wasn’t what Toni had meant, but that wouldn’t have stopped their friend from choosing that interpretation and running with it.

*It was…* Toni paused, struggling it seemed to find the right words, but she was struggling – which was a whole new level of communication.

*Awkward?* Tara suggested. She accepted Toni’s automatic providing of the sign, after she’d had to spell it out, with a grateful nod.

*I guess,* Toni agreed.

*Oh yeah,* Willow signed. *It’s really awkward the first time. You don’t know where to go. Whose nose goes where? It’s all banging teeth and wondering whether either of you is doing it right. Then the person your with starts doing something and you don’t know whether you should be just going along with that, doing the same thing, doing something else or all three! Kissing is so confusing the first time.*

Tara looked at Toni, who at least found some respite in Willow’s signed babble. Toni looked back at her with a ‘hey, it must be you she means’ look.

*I know your not talking about me baby,* she signed in front of Willow, forced by their positions to use Willow for both ‘your’ and ‘me.’ Just to make things awkward for Toni to understand.

*Oh no!* Willow accepted the validity of the statement with a negative.

*Then we’ll talk about who you do mean later,* Tara promised. It had never been that way for them – or at least not for Willow anyway. And she already knew who her lover’s first kiss had been.

At least she thought she did, perhaps Willow would surprise her. She certainly knew how to do that.

And her own first kiss?

It hadn’t been her girlfriend.

It had been someone else. A vampire. A vampire named Willow. She didn’t remember it being awkward as much as… The vampire seemed to have much more idea what she wanted than Tara had. Probably because she’d never wanted the vampire at all.

This… this beautiful woman half lying and half sitting against her, in her arms, was what she wanted – all she’d ever wanted. The vampire had just been the only part of her that was left back then.

*There was that,* Toni agreed with Willow’s earlier babble. *For about a minute.*

*A minute?* Tara checked. So it’d gone on for over a minute?

How much over a minute?

*So… Erm… How shall I put this? Oh, I know. ‘How long were you kissing him?’* Willow gave their curiosity voice. Tara wouldn’t have been quite so teasing about it – but there was no question they’d both like to know.

Another blush, another moment Tara thought Toni would give up and make a break for it. But still, she just stood there and took it. Took it and told them the truth apparently. After all, why would anyone lie about this?

*About an hour.*

An hour?

A whole hour?

Okay, when you were into someone – as she was into Willow – you could do that. You could kiss and the seconds, minutes and even hours would sometimes rush by. Sometimes they could kiss, caress and be together for all that time, without a hint of ever taking it any further. Was Toni about to find the joy in that kind of intimacy?

Could she?

Had she?

Or…

*An hour?* Willow signed. *No way!*

Tara wasn’t so sure. She was pretty sure Willow had never managed an hour kissing anyone at Toni’s age, and she knew she hadn’t, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t happen.

She was inclined to think that they were the exceptions rather than the rules what with being off for revenge on all vampires, in her case, and being one of those demons in Willow’s.

Somehow the doubts pricked Toni’s pride because the girl not only stayed where she was, but she denied that Willow was right to doubt her. *It was so!* It looked like fighting talk. Toni’s embarrassment giving way to a willingness to defend the growing evidences her own sexuality.

*Oh no, honey,* Willow followed up quickly. *I wasn’t doubting you!*

Tara was curious what her girlfriend must have meant then, because she had been walking a fine line with her teasing. Closer to the edge than Tara had chosen to go. She waited for Willow to explain, just as Toni was doing. But Toni was making it way more obvious that she wanted to see what Willow had really meant.

*What I should have said was…* Willow paused and Tara saw the wicked glint in her eye. From apology to more teasing in half a sentence. *There’s no way you were just kissing for an hour honey.*

And there was the deep red flush in every part of Toni’s skin they could see that said Willow was right.

Tara could see the logic that was at work, as well as Willow’s understanding of just how desire worked. If you were so into it that you could spend an hour kissing, and it was good, then you were into it enough that hands started to wander.

Wander into interesting places, as Willow would have said.

Nor did you get so dishevelled just kissing. Okay, you could… but then it depended where you were kissing. And that was really somewhere Tara didn’t want this conversation to go right now.

Or would it be better to know? Tough call. On the one hand it was like their duty to know things like that. And on the other… ignorance really was bliss.

Toni nodded. Confirming Willow’s suggestions.

What in the worlds was prompting the girl to stay here and go through all this? It certainly wasn’t pride – the only thing that’d touched on Toni’s indisputable pride was what the younger woman had thought was Willows doubt about where the truth might lie.

Things to rule out… Well, it definitely wasn’t a need to ask questions that was keeping Toni here. She’d never exactly been backward about coming forward. But she was clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was taking them. But for some reason – uniquely in the whole time they’d known Toni – she wouldn’t just end the conversation and leave them.

So what was up?

*First? Second? Third or Oh my goddess?* Willow asked, getting carried away in the moment.

Willow so often saw herself as Toni’s friend – often to the exclusion of being a parental figure. And that wasn’t a question that a parental figure asked.

*Don’t answer that,* Tara signed quickly, stressing how firmly she meant it as Toni had obviously been about to respond, and still not with anything that resembled anger.

Had Toni really been about to tell them?

She clasped her hands around her girlfriend’s to silence her teasing. *We trust you Toni,* she went on once Willow had gotten the message. *Whatever happened – we trust you to know what’s right for you. You know that don’t you?*

Toni didn’t answer that, the easy question though. For some reason she actually went back and answered Willows instead. The more it went on the less surprised Toni seemed, she seemed to get more resigned to the fact it was all flooding out with so little prompting. She was actually sighing at her own fingers.

Tara watched as the words unfolded from Toni’s dextrous fingers and gestures. *I put his hand up my - *

Where those hands went now would be doubly significant.

Please say shirt - Please say shirt - Please say shirt.

Even bra. Bra would be… well, it wouldn’t be good but it’d definitely be better than some of the alternatives.

Shirt or bra… but nothing more than that.

Please…

Goddess, think of the wording… and tell us, but nothing below the waist.

*- top.* Toni finished.

Oh thank the Goddess.

Willow tipped her head back, probably looking to her for guidance in their reaction. She’d been right… well, kind of. Things had gone a little further than expected. Hands up tops might not be commitment to marriage these days, but it was a little more than Tara had been anticipating from a fifteen year old.

If much less than she’d feared. And not through a lack of trust… no, she feared it because it was all too easy to let your feelings run away with you. If meeting Willow the way she had had taught her anything… it was that your feelings could run away with you.

Even when you knew it wasn’t right.

Also Toni had said ‘I put his hand…’ Meaning it was her choice. That was good – if they trusted Toni, and they did, then they could rely on that for the future. Toni was the one making decisions. They could rely on that. Couldn’t they?

Besides could she say a word about where those hands had been when, until she’d started to sign, she’d been holding Willow in just the same way? But for the under/over the waist part of the question anyway. She’d firmly been over… and it’d always stay that way when Toni was around.

Hypocrisy wasn’t high on her list of parenting skills to put into practice, no matter how traditional it might be. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe she wouldn’t get around to it eventually though.

Willow was still looking back at her, head tipped back, but Tara kept looking at Toni. And Toni looked right back at her.

Tara had the feeling the girl was looking for the rebuke, for something to take a stand against. Or to fold into weakness, which would be a bad choice. Something to distract from the admissions she’d made.

But if she chastised Toni for where that hand had been then she’d just be pushing their strong-willed guest to take it further than maybe even she wanted to. Rebellion wasn’t a good reason to let things go below the waist.

And Tara was a firm believer there were good reasons… just not good reasons for a fifteen year old.

On the other hand too much support might look like she, they, were entirely happy with what had happened – or might happen in the future.

Time for one of those snap-parenting decisions she was getting used to – even if she wasn’t good at them. How come they were so much easier with Faith and Ben though? Probably because, when it came down to it, they didn’t have the ultimate responsibility.

With Toni… they did. Oh boy, did they ever?

*Toni,* she started and watched the girl steel herself, ready. *We’re happy for you.*

Toni managed to find another iota of surprise after that allocated to what her fingers were telling them. More surprise even than that.

“You are?” Willow asked aloud. “We are? Yes, we are.”

“Uh-huh,” she found herself telling Willow, not bothering to translate.

*A first kiss is one more step to being a woman,* she added in sign to Toni. Where the words were coming from, Tara wasn’t quite sure. But they looked right for the situation – and more than that she believed them.

Now would Toni?

*I’m glad it was with someone special,* she completed.

The way Toni was looking at her, Tara could tell the girl was trying to weigh up what this meant – and this was where trust came into it. Toni could take this as carte blanche to do what she liked… or she could understand that she was responsible for her own actions. There’d be no one else to blame if it went wrong, but no one interfering if it was going okay.

That was the deal.

Tara was banking on Willow being right about the trust they could have in Toni. A good rule of thumb was that Willow was usually right about most things and it felt right to her too.

It was only worry that made her doubt it at all. Worry was what parents were supposed to do, or so it seemed.

Ultimately she trusted Willow, she trusted Toni and she was just afraid for the girl. As best she could tell eighteen years of fear was about right for a parent. She was afraid for Faith and Ben, for different reasons, and she wasn’t even one of their parents!

*So it’s okay?* Toni asked, and the expression said that she’s assumed it definitely wouldn’t have been.

Tara nodded quickly, in spite of her doubts, and felt her girlfriend nodding with her, red hair getting in her mouth. Nothing new there then.

Why’d she been so eager to say ‘yes’ though? Couldn’t she have prevaricated a little, just to make Toni think about it a little more, and then still said ‘yes’?

Then again Toni’s hesitant, still doubtful, smile was one of the best things that’d happened to Tara all week, and this had been a pretty good week – dreams and worries about that stuff notwithstanding.

Okay, she’d have been happier if no one had his – or even her – hand up Toni’s top… but then when all was said and done, this was the best way given it had been there.

This time Toni did turn to go, making it part way to the door before Tara realised what else she wanted to say.

She tried to stamp her foot and get the girl to turn back to her. Unfortunately her leg was partially – mostly – trapped under Willow and besides the arm of the sofa was padded too. Not much by way of vibrations.

“Allow me baby,” Willow said and threw a cushion at the departing Toni who reacted fast enough to catch it before it hit the ground.

Someone should’ve been a Slayer.

“Thanks baby,” Tara said with a kiss to the top of Willow’s head.

*What?* Toni asked, immediately suspicious again.

*I’m alright with it now,* Tara reiterated and saw a little of that tension go away. *But keep it above the waist. Okay?*

Toni rolled her eyes, as if she wouldn’t ever dream of anything going below the waist. Actually it was an expression that suggested she didn’t even know what a waist was. And that was a little too innocent for any of them to believe in.

*Or we’ll turn him into a hoppy toad,* Willow added. Just for effect.

At least she assumed it was just for effect, maybe Willow really knew how to do that.

Toni pouted then smiled again.

*Of course if that’s a turn on… just say the word,* Willow continued. *Or at least sign it and we’ll see what we can do.*

It was Tara who was hit in the face by the returning cushion that had been, badly, aimed at her girlfriend.

Okay… maybe someone was best not being a Slayer. Toni threw like a girl.

-----------------------

“Ricky!? Honey!”

Ricky groaned. They’d caught him staying out on a school night. Again. Third time this month and he knew what that was going to mean.

“Been celebrating son?” his Dad asked as both he and Mom came to the door.

“Celebrating?” Ricky asked.

This wasn’t right. They sounded… well, happy. Hadn’t he been out two hours past curfew for a school night? He checked his watch. Yup, nearly than two hours. It’d been over an hour when he’d decided to head home.

That just showed what he thought about a curfew that was when some of friends thought about heading out for the night.

“Oh, silly! We know! You got an A honey!” His Mom kissed him and he wiped away the kiss away on the back of his arm.

Could’ve been worse, they could’ve met him on the porch. He wouldn’t have wanted Michelle to see this. He was still trying to act the cool dude, he wouldn’t want to look like Momma’s boy. Not in front of her.

Bad enough his would-be girl had walked him home. This wasn’t very cool.

And you know what else wasn’t very cool? What he’d said to Michelle when she’d asked him how he felt about her. He’d only told her the truth of all the dumb, stupid things to do.

Somehow though she’d respected his honesty – despite what he’d said. Turned out she wanted just the same from him – not much more than some fun.

And that’d been a kick in the teeth – weren’t girls supposed to be into all the romance and shit? The idea she’d want him for no more than he wanted her for…

He really hadn’t wanted to be honest with her. He had no idea why he had been; he’d been lying to her for weeks now – all in aid of trying to get a little action. He’d just been about to give up and try her little sister who already had something of a reputation.

But now it seemed she’d been lying to him too. How did that work then?

“Well done son,” his Dad shook his hand to congratulate him for the A Grade. Mom, of course, hugged him again. No more kisses though.

“Thanks, Mom. Dad.”

The A-grade. Yeah, that had been a fine piece of work, it was true. Well executed and no one had caught it either.

“It’s my first of the year,” he admitted. And it was just what he needed to stay on the team too. Even the Coach had been pleased.

“Just in time too,” his Dad observed. Ricky nodded; they were thinking the same things. Ricky knew he was a C Grade student when he was trying his hardest, and he struggled to maintain that. A little too much partying had pushed him down to a D average this semester.

It had been good work though. The best he’d managed in a long time. And no one, especially the teacher, had caught it. Dumb fuck.

“You see, son? You see what you get when you really apply yourself?”

He wanted to apply himself to Michelle, see what that got him.

And he’d virtually said so, for some reason. She hadn’t done more than giggle though. Of all the responses to the truth that wasn’t a bad one. She could’ve got all girly and slapped his face or something. But a giggle… She must really be up for it – all he needed now was a few minutes in the house alone with her.

His mind was on Michelle, parts of her anyway, when he answered them and didn’t even catch what he said. Probably a grunt – they told him off for grunting at them all the time.

But the look on their faces? The colour had drained from both of them, his Mom let out a nervous laugh but stopped when no one else picked joined her.

What had he said?

Oh… That. He’d told the truth. Again.

Goddamn it… he’d gotten clean away with it and now he’d told them the truth?

“Say that again,” his father instructed.

“All I did was submit one of Frank’s papers with my name on.” His jaw dropped as he said it again, confirmed it. He clamped a hand across his mouth; unable to believe he’d been so fucking dumb.

“You did what?”

Ricky wanted to shake his head and pretend it had been a joke. Say that he’d never copy his older brother’s papers for a teacher who famously didn’t change his course from year to year. Or even from decade to decade. Instead all he could do was admit it, and he didn’t want to.

And after a grounding and half an hour of lectures, when the topic turned to Michelle and what he intended to do with her in their bed the next time they were out, that was when they got really, really mad at him.

---------------------

Ethan strolled through the streets taking in the sights. It was difficult to stroll, carrying a kitten; one found oneself being more cautious than casual. But he did want to enjoy this as best he could.

And with the poker game cleaned out so early… he had time to enjoy it before work.

This, as the Americans would say, was what he was talking about.

Fights and tears.

Hugs and kisses.

The truth – his truth – was bringing everything to the fore. The guilty told the truth. The innocent didn’t want to know – or revealed that maybe they weren’t so innocent after all.

It was perfect, he couldn’t have wished for anything better.

And, wonder of wonders, his ass had remained unkicked.

Sunnydale society was having a major crisis, spurred on by the unbridled truth. They probably hadn’t seen the like since most of the town had taken to his roses as they had.

Perfection indeed.

He’d even won money – lots of money. It might be the tool of the systemic order he despised but it was still better to have it than to be without – at least until all order was overthrown and glorious Chaos came to the fore.

Besides he had another mouth to feed. Tiger didn’t have to be as deeply into the Chaos as he was. But Tiger was a cat; he’d expect certain things. They had expensive tastes.

Food, somewhere to sleep that hopefully wasn’t on his face. A litter tray to call his own and as much catnip as he could stand.

Simple tastes.

He understood these creatures, respected them.

Even in the Chaotic society he yearned for every human would have to secure those for themselves. Apart from the catnip. Tiger was just ahead of the game.

Downside? Until tomorrow at least, he had twenty or more other tiny mouths to feed as well. Already back in his motel room, he was sure they were causing some mischief or other. He’d practically had to empty one of those curious machines the colonials used to dispense newspapers to deal with the inevitable mess.

His motel room was, he was quite sure, Chaos writ large.

He and Tiger though… just a trip out to see how the town was doing.

It was a good job he was so tired, he wasn’t sure he’d have gotten to sleep otherwise. With a symphony of mewling and a town where order was – for a night at least – breaking down because the truth was too much for them, it would’ve been difficult.

“Time to take you home Tiger,” he said, not believing how something so small and furry had wormed its way into affections he didn’t even think he’d had.

Tiger mewled.

“Well, alright then, if you’re enjoying yourself. Once more round town before work.” He was already dressed after all, he had time.

The Kitten purred.

A creature after his own heart.

---------------------

Tara lay in bed beside her lover, idly running a finger through Willowhair. It was still earlyish - by their standards - but the Giles’ were on patrol tonight, so why wouldn’t she be enjoying Willowhair at this time?

“What are you thinking about?” she asked as she brought her fingers out of Willow’s PJ bottoms to rest on her girlfriend’s chest instead.

“Well,” Willow said with a smile, “Right up until you moved your fingers from there my thoughts weren’t very complicated at all.”

Tara moved in and kissed her girlfriend’s lips. Thoughts didn’t have to be complex, but surely Willow wasn’t ready to go again?

Or she might be, this was Willow after all. Tara wasn’t sure how it worked for other couples – never having been in one other than this – but for them it was… Not perpetual readiness, but if the mood came then they often went with it. It wasn’t like it was difficult to find the mood either.

After all… just look at her.

And the connection… knowing each other, feeling each other so intimately. Willow’s own arousal – felt that way – was a turn on for her. And she knew the reverse was true.

“Seriously,” Tara said.

“Seriously,” Willow replied. “I was thinking you could do that forever if you liked.”

“You’re as bad as Miss Kitty,” Tara mockingly complained – tweaking one alert nipple just to make the point.

“Says you, minx!”

“True,” she admitted. “True. But I meant the big thoughts you were having.” She’d have been quite happy doing that forever too, if their life hadn’t held so many other things to treasure.

Willow paused, then she came up with one of her big thoughts – just as Tara had asked. “I was thinking about love too.”

“I’d taken that as read baby, my Willow isn’t all about being touched and stroked. I know you have other needs.” Needs and needs and needs. Such delicious needs.

“Which you fulfil every one of,” Willow confirmed with quick kiss. “But I didn’t mean love for you.”

That took Tara aback for a moment, but then she knew that Willow – as she did – loved other people in their lives. The kids. Ira. Jenny and Rupert. Perhaps their brand of love was unique to them, but the emotion itself wasn’t. Nor should it be. “Oh really? Who for?”

“Well,” Willow told her with another kiss, “apart from you obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Toni.”

Tara waited, knowing Willow was going to explain. Willow always explained. Explaining was what Willow did. She was never content to let it lie if she could possibly add another explanation. And here it came.

“I mean… I think I’m getting so used to her being here that… I kind of think I want it to continue.”

Tara couldn’t help a frown. She didn’t want to frown, but a frown was the most accurate representation of her feelings and the truth just seemed to have a way of coming out tonight. Willow’s admission about the DVD. Toni admitting she’d had Mal’s hand in… interesting places.

Maybe that was why Willow had said this now, because she really didn’t admit to this kind of thing without an awful lot of thought – maybe not even then. It wasn’t unknown for her to – still – bottle things up a little. Until it exploded in a burst of Willowbabble.

“That’s…,” Tara said finally. And she really believed it. “It’s so not up to us, baby.”

Willow was about to say something, but Tara wanted to add one more thing. “It’s not even up to her. The courts, social services. Jenny and Rupert – they have a say too.” She shrugged.

“And a partridge in a pear tree,” Willow said, but she didn’t sound at all bitter.

“Shhh,” Tara comforted her. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing to worry about yet.” There was nothing they could do, because there was nothing that needed to be done. The process was underway and eventually it’d come to a conclusion. That was what bureaucracy did.

Eventually.

“What if I want to worry?” Willow asked.

“Then, my love, you can worry away.”

“And what if I ask you?” Willow pressed.

“What?” Tara wondered, but she really knew. She knew her baby by now.

“How you feel.”

“Then I’d tell you,” Tara promised her. In some ways it was a weakness they shared. They sometimes avoided the difficult stuff in order to feel good about each other for a little longer. To hold onto the perfection they were lucky came so easily to them.

She didn’t like to upset Willow with some of the realities she’d learned over time, and Willow didn’t like to feel she was being silly. Silly and Willow were, usually, opposites.

Tara actually thought it was a strength in her lover. Because when it came to it, when they actually asked each other then they’d always say.

No more hiding then once the question was asked. Certainly no lies.

“So, how do you feel?” Willow was cuddling up to her and asking the question she’d warned about.

“If it was up to us?” Tara qualified. She didn’t want to be the serious one all the time, if Willow would let her off this hook…

“Sure,” her girlfriend confirmed.

“Then I agree with you,” Tara told her.

“Because?”

“Because it’s what I’d like too sweetie.” And she did. In a world where other people made no difference at all, she’d choose it in a heartbeat. Toni would stay and it’d all come together. Everything was working so well already, but those last tensions would work themselves out and Toni – in the worst moments – would only ever hate them because they were her parents.

Not because they weren’t.

“But?” Willow asked, reading her.

“But I have to be realistic girl sometimes – for both of us. We have no jobs,” Tara said. And that was just one thing that’d count against them.

“No jobs yet,” Willow insisted.

“Yet,” Tara was willing to concede. “And we’re not much older than she is either.”

“I know,” Willow said, “But how important is that really? So long as we’re responsible?”

Tara paused.

“Okay,” Willow qualified, “as long as you’re responsible.”

Tara smiled at the little joke and looked into her girlfriend’s eyes. She could see Willow was well aware of the truth. “If we’re still saying it was up to us, then it wouldn’t matter at all and maybe it wouldn’t to anyone else, if we got out of college and had jobs.”

She paused for breath, thinking but only coming up with the truth. As usual. “Toni’s not far off being old enough to leave the system anyway…” There was a point here – but she didn’t want Willow to find any false hope. Perhaps not ‘false’ but definitely over optimistic.

“So you’re saying that the longer it is before they can prove whether there’s anyone in her family to take her or not, and the better grades and jobs we get…” Willow summarised.

Tara just had to smile. Willow was fishing for reassurance, she was fishing for the sort of things she did best of all. A way to make it right by doing her best.

“Yeah baby, I think that if we graduated with top grades and get good jobs that are flexible enough for us to spend the time Toni needs with us…” She didn’t mention her own plans for teacher training. She didn’t mention the consideration Willow had been giving to post-graduate education.

Because what then? What if Willow chose one of the East Coast schools?

What if Willow felt she couldn’t choose them because she wanted to keep Toni? How would that make them feel? Maybe not then, but later? What about the other things Willow wanted? Things outside of Sunnydale?

Not all of that was as hypothetical as Willow’s thoughts of Toni staying with them. Willow had offers from the schools – good schools. But somehow the urge to express her thoughts overcame her.

She just had to say it, she had to tell Willow the truth – no matter what. “You know that we might have to put our futures on hold to do this?”

“We are each other’s future, sweetie,” Willow assured her. “The rest of it… We could come back to school after a couple of years? Or maybe just one of us goes to work to start with? What I mean is that there are ways and, to be honest, we could do with making some money before all that anyway. There’s no Mayormoney for this part.”

Tara was forced to nod, even though there was an allowance for it… it was going to cost them personally too. There were ways and she didn’t want to be the party-pooper who was being serious. There really were always ways.

“You are my future,” she breathed as her hand found it’s way back to Willowhair, inside her PJ bottoms again.

And then Willow was reaching over to gather up her nightgown too, pulling it upwards. Tara closed her eyes as her lover slipped down the bed, and she had to content herself with finding some other, longer and more luxuriant, Willowhair. She didn’t mind that at all as her girlfriend applied her mouth to the loving it was rightly so proud of.

Please don’t let there be another dream tonight, she managed to think before Willow zeroed in on the heart of the matter.

And if there were dreams… it wouldn’t spoil this anyway.

“The future’s feeling pretty bright,” she managed to say to Willow, hands in her hair, gently holding her head in just the right position. It was the last sentence she managed without other exclamations for a little while.

Willow could only manage a muffled response anyway, but Tara knew what she meant.

***************

[Forrister]

And so it begins . . . . .

Ethan is a about to get a dose of true chaos, up close and furry. A completely truthful dose of chaos because kittens do not lie . . . they misdirect, sneak, let you draw totally wrong conclusions and then look smugly on while you try to figure out what just happened. This is the universe pointing at Ethan and saying 'here is a little karma payment . . . enjoy . . . giggle giggle'.

I fully expected Willow and Tara to take on full responsiblity for Toni. She's become part of their chosen family. A rather small, select group, and the only family either of them have. I'm glad to see Miss Kitty making her imperious presence felt here. I think Tara has been monumentally understanding with the entire Toni/Mal affair - it is the nature of the teen to press the limits though and I'm not sure Willow was joking about the whole hoppy toad thing.

Forrister

Fortis est veritas.
Strong is the truth.

[chronic]

Tiger the evil kitten - what a brilliant new character !

[reyjawk]

Good Update! As someone who was born in the late 70s I remember Debbie Gibson and Tiffany...I actually had both of their albums. I have to say I am slightly partial to Tiffany as she had a stronger voice...but Debbie wrote all of her own songs...

Agghhhh make it stop I am reliving 6th grade!!!


I really enjoy the interaction between Toni, Willow and Tara. I think you have really nailed their development. You get the sense of people forming a family but still feeling each other, testing limits, but more and more you see Toni beginning to think of W&T as her family and not just a place she is staying...

Cant wait for more...oh and this was not the Chaos I was expecting...

Toni

[Katharyn]

Kerry - I thought you might appreciate the nature of Chaos Ethan is embracing, though Tiger did precede your own family addition.

I hope I get to play that out for Ethan... though Tiger will be basically on his side, as we'll see. And honestly, the way I've chosen to write him, I think he'll appreciate it. Amongst all the cursing.

W/T's responsbility for Toni is something I've just written a new section for in 196. But I won't say more than that. I will also tease that it's not something that will be ultimately resolved until the very last part of the fic.

As for Toni and Mal. That has consequences. Terrible, awful consequences.

As we'll see in Part 195.

Oh yes, and that's all a tease.

Thanks hun.

Chronic Evil kitten? Did I say evil? Only if you consider Ethan to be so, and he'd just see himself as a man with a cause.

On the other hand Tiger is a cat.

Reyjawk AKA the 'other' Toni. Welcome back. I must say that Debbie and Tiffany weren't huge here. For sure they never had a career here beyond that rivalry that was made up by the music industry. But the idea of a blonde and a red-head you could "root for" was too perfect a long time ago when I forst brought them in. Naturally T & W both go for what they appreciate now.

I like writing Toni with the girls. It's interesting, fun and aside from the perils of forgetting to write the deafness very stimulating. I think what is missing from their development is the fights that I reflect on. I say that there has been a fight - but never show it. I feel I need to address that, but don't want Toni to be unsympathetic. Maybe this will do for now.

Oh, what Chaos were you expecting by the way? (Good capitalisation!)

Thanks

Katharyn

[Katharyn]

Title: The Sidestep Chronicle – Second Chronicle - The Long Night – Part 2 (Part194)
Author: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome. Katharynrosser1@hotmail.co.uk Flames just demonstrate you have a tiny mind.
Spoiler Warning: Pretty limited. The story occurs in an alternate universe as set up in “The Wish” though reference is made to events that occur in both realities. Nothing is referenced that occurs after S5 though. Guess why? Most “spoilers” would be for the first chronicle of this fic rather than the show and if you haven’t read that then much of this will make no sense but you can try and get round it by reading the preface to Part 104 which summarises most of what went before.
Distribution This story was written for Pens. Pens is its home. No archiving off Different Coloured Pens (This applies to all of the Sidestep Chronicle)
Summary: After his poker game Ethan heads to ‘work.’ Oh and a little more about the girls.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS. All rights lie with the production company, writers etc, etc. I am making zilch from this series of stories. You know the drill.
Rating: R – a general rating for occasional content. Individual parts might be less than this level.
Couples: Tara and Willow forever – others couples as necessary but nothing unconventional.
Notes: I think you should all have seen this coming for a while, even if it is written as a surprise. Sorry to be predictable!
Thanks To: My own special woman Louise who helps me so much with this on top of everything else. Those other friends and family who’ve also helped us overcome everything that was put in my way. Celia and Kerry who shaped this story and continue to do so when I think back to what they told me in the past. Xita for keeping the story hanging around and continuing to give us TKTWATBW.


The Sidestep Chronicle – Second Chronicle

The Long Night – Part 2

By

Katharyn Rosser



Kittens weren’t easy to look after. Once he’d gotten them back to his hotel room they hadn’t been half as sleepy as he’d assumed they were so when they were so quiet in the boxes.

Not sleepy at all.

Try, insane with the thrill of new things to explore.

And destroy.

He was glad now that he was paying for the motel room in cash – he was going to have to settle the bill and then skip on the damages then get a new motel room tomorrow. Not that he hadn’t tried to keep things… non-chaotic. Lots and lots of newspaper.

Newspaper they seemed to have shredded for fun before he and Tiger had even gotten back to get ready for work.

He’d checked in, with some trepidation, after enjoying the scenes in the town. Despite expecting the worst, he’d still been surprised at how bad it’d been. He’d only left them for an hour or so…

And now he was going actually going to work for considerably longer.

The kittens had already destroyed the motel room. There wasn’t much left for them to do, or so you’d think.

All he’d done was make a couple of laps of town before he’d come back to wash and get changed for what the rest of the night held, and the little terrors had destroyed everything. They were scratching on the curtains, the walls and furniture.

The newspaper was shredded and all over the place.

They’d been rolling around, playing with each other, not a sign of sleepiness in any of them. It was like they’d taken their liberation to heart and decided to make a night of it.

They’d been hunting one of his rolled up socks. One would bat it across the floor and a large bundle of multi-coloured fur would pounce on it and roll across the floor to fight for it.

And there were the other kind of messes… Not a one of them had gone in the litter tray he’d scratched up at the all night store. No, they’d waited for him to let them have a little freedom and then every one of them must’ve done their business.

Ultimately it was all Chaotic. Twenty little, furry bundles of Chaos.

Tiger, once released from his pocket, had been perched on the end of the bed looking down at the carnage around him, mewling his head off at them. He’d seemed to be angry with them all – which was good. Tiger, at least, was on his side, but he was in no way the dominant kitten of the bunch.

Just the most intelligent… and in the long run that’d count for more.

Ethan knew by now he was definitely going to keep Tiger and the little cat probably already knew which way his bread was buttered too. Unlike dogs, it was said, cats had ‘domesticated’ the people they lived with for their own purposes rather than the reverse.

Tiger was already showing that to be quiet true.

He could’ve tried leaving Tiger in charge of the others when he’d headed out for work, but they’d probably have bullied him so instead Tiger was out here with him.

Sometimes when he thought about it – though Tiger’s colouring was wrong – he already imagined himself with the kitten in something of a Blofeld pose.

Oh, he had hair. But still…

Agent of Chaos and his kitten?

The trouble with that vision was Tiger being too small for that right now and though Ethan considered himself Chaotic he wasn’t some sort of uber-villain anyway. He’d certainly never been a bad man, except in the eyes of others. Chaos could actually be a good thing, even for people other than himself.

All the rest of the world had to do was realise that truth and then everyone would get along famously.

He reached down and scratched the kitten’s ear. Despite being the, dubious, owner of over twenty kittens he still wasn’t really comfortable holding something so small and fragile. He was still afraid he might hurt one of them, particularly the one he’d chosen to keep, so instead the kitten sat in his largest jacket pocket. Head peeking out and looking at the world as it went by.

At least when he wasn’t down there twisting around to get comfortable.

So why was he keeping this little bundle of fur? He’d asked himself the question a few times since seeing the damage they could cause.

Instinct was the main reason – it felt right and he’d always been one to follow his instincts. Instincts were vital to survival. Which was more likely to be right, billions of years of evolution or forty-some years of getting in trouble?

But, now that instinct had made the decision for him, he’d taken a few moments to figure out what factors his instincts might’ve taken account of.

First thing to come to mind was the Cat God(dess) was never known to be harsh with anyone who liked, respected and treated cats well.

His rescue mission – cunningly disguised as a game of poker where he’d intended to win some money and test his truth agent was working – as well as the delivery of kittens to kinder people would only serve to back that up. He should’ve done something along those lines years ago to avoid some problems that had set him back.

A lot.

Cats were everywhere; it was hard to avoid them. And there were still places on other continents that you definitely didn’t want to go when the Cat God(dess) was peeved. Places where the cats could be bigger than you were.

Secondly and he hated himself for this one, Tiger was unbearably… cute.

Best to leave the rest of that thought unformed. He didn’t want to think where it might lead him. Suffice it to say, or think, that he wanted a little company sometimes - which Tiger would undoubtedly be.

Sometimes.

Cats could, sometimes, be very little company. Virtually non-existent. And sometimes they were all over you.

The question would be whether he’d want company at the times a more grown up Tiger would be willing to give it.

Third, and this wasn’t one for having twenty kittens, but just the one… It was bound to be a magnet for the ladies. Tiger was so cute – at least for now. Having him around would make him look sensitive and caring. And he was prepared to concede that was something he needed some help on. Sensitive and caring would also be helped by the absence of jokes about pussies. Or at least, if he really had to make one, he’d have Tiger to justify it.

But twenty of them… That was likely to be a turn-off if he ever took a lady back to his motel room. So off the rest would go as soon as he could get them to a decent shelter that wouldn’t just sell them back into the poker games.

Tomorrow by choice, as long as tonight’s work didn’t overrun.

Fourth, cats were Chaotic. That was to say that they obeyed no ones rules but their own. They accepted assistance, food and attention when it suited them but no one could ever believe they ‘owned’ or ‘controlled’ a cat. They could survive alone, following their instincts, but simply chose to take advantage of people.

In so many ways that was just like him. How couldn’t that partnership prosper?

And the fifth and final reason he could think of was that he knew the Witches had a cat. For as long as he was here it would be useful to have a way into their heads. They loved their cat and he was… well, let’s not say there would be love, but he was definitely planning to enjoy the benefit of Tiger’s company.

He’d understand them better as a result, if only because they’d share that one common viewpoint.

“Oh yes I will,” he said out loud, scratching Tiger’s ear again and watching how the tiny eyes – yet huge compared to the rest of him – screwed up in appreciation. Oh by the gods of Chaos he really was falling for this bundle of pent up furry destruction.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. It should’ve just been a game of poker…

But here they both were – all ready for the nights work. He looked up at the imposing façade of the building they’d arrived at. “Now you,” he pulled Tiger out and looked into his eyes, “have to be really quiet for me now.”

He could’ve sworn that the kitten understood. It gave him a little half-squeak and then licked his fingers with that rough tongue once again.

He perhaps shouldn’t have brought Tiger out so soon, but it’d be important to acclimatise him to the sorts of things that could happen in a magical household – or at least a magical motel room. And there was an air of magic – or at least power – to this place.

An air that he’d lent it over the past few months.

Months, just to get this far. But the future – as they said – was now.

It didn’t really matter that he had a cat with him and if Tiger made a noise… well, perhaps he’d have to stop and let someone say hello to him. Who’d look at him twice? They’d be more interested in the cute kitty.

Ethan wasn’t going to try to be invisible; this certainly wasn’t the place for unexpected rituals. Before he’d started his work he’d had to dismantle a terribly impressive ‘wall’ of protective spells. Some bore the hallmarks of the Witches, probably from when Miss Maclay had been here, and others… they seemed older. Less sophisticated but more impressively dangerous.

But there was always the chance he’d missed one, so he was going to be absolutely what they expected. No rituals to get inside. He was here to do the job not many others wanted to.

So it was he was actually in disguise. It hadn’t been difficult to get hold of one of the cleaning staff’s shirts, now worn under his jacket. He’d even stitched his forename onto the pocket. A man who lived alone always needed to know how to stitch his name onto a pocket.

Vital life-skill even if the darning of socks had died out.

And it wasn’t just the shirt. He’d made sure to learn exactly where the cleaning supplies were kept on every floor, as well as the route the take cleaner usually took around the building, undoubtedly the most efficient.

He was actually going to have to do a cursory ‘sweep’ through the floor he’d assigned to himself. Otherwise questions might start to be asked, and you never knew who’d know the Witches or if it might get back to them.

There’d been an unfortunate bout of relatively harmless vomiting that’d accounted for the regular cleaner. Fortunate that, especially now that the security guard was expecting someone else from the agency to turn up and deal with the late night cleaning run.

Someone like him.

The guard… now there was an unknown quantity. The guard might’ve seen him here at more sociable hours. He’d been in and out of this building for some time now. Making ready for this night and checking on progress.

But, even if the guard had seen him before, he was banking on the security guard seeing the uniform – not the person in it. If his face was familiar it’d be because he’d done a shift or two here before.

At least so far as the guard was concerned.

He checked his watch as he pushed the double doors open; making sure Tiger had disappeared into his larger pocket. Not many cleaners carried familiars – not that Tiger was such a creature and there was no point in tempting fate, no matter his confidence that the kitten’s sheer cuteness would win the day.

As he stepped into the building, striding through the lobby, he looked for the name card on the security guard’s chest. He waved, calling out to him. “Warm night, Gill.” He slipped an appropriately colonial accent into his voice.

No one would ever believe in an Englishman being the janitor. Which was strange, because back home there were thousands of English janitors.

“Not with the AC…” Gill replied, clearly struggling for his name.

“Ethan,” he informed him with a restrained nod. “I’ll be your substitute cleaner for tonight. I was here last week…” He left that hanging, as if Gill was the one who’d forgotten him.

The idea was that familiarity was convincing and no one liked to feel like they’d forgotten someone who knew their name. The guard was now discomforted and embarrassed, any thoughts he had about whether the janitor should actually be here would be put aside because of that embarrassment.

He knew a janitor would be due, but not that it’d be Ethan.

Ethan himself was striding on with a purpose. At least with as much of a stride as someone not totally happy with their lot in life would manage. He knew where he was going and he knew what he had to do. Who could argue with that kind of bored confidence?

“You have a good night – ah – Ethan,” Gill called after him.

“I’ll see you on the way out,” Ethan assured him. “Do you want a coffee when I come back down? I usually put a pot on before I start. I could bring you some.” Not to mention how effective brewing coffee was at covering up other smells.

“No, it’s okay. I knock off in an hour, thanks though. You’ll be longer than that right?” the guard asked.

I’ll make sure I am now, Ethan told himself, though it had always been likely anyway since he did actually have to do some cleaning as well. “Oh yeah, people always say these people,” he gestured to the building, “should clean up their act.” A little janitorial humour to make the passage easier. He even paused, turning back to his new friend Gill.

Who was supposedly his old friend Gill, even if he didn’t know it.

“And they can start by putting their own trash in the bin?” Gill asked.

“That’d be a good start.” Ethan felt Tiger shift in his pocket, the kitten was growing restless and the lure of exploring the corners of the deep pockets had obviously passed him by. “You have a good one Gill.” He gave a little salute and stepped into the stairwell.

“You too Ethan,” the guard called after him, and went back to watching his TV shows.

Now for some cleaning.

---------------

The pay was always abysmally poor, he supposed, but he rather liked cleaning jobs.

Invariably they could take you into places that were usually so secure that you couldn’t get near without some complex, and costly, rituals and at the same time there was a certain satisfaction to leaving something better than you found it. That, after all, was his entire mission on behalf of blessed Chaos.

To leave the world a better place than when he’d found it. Could anybody claim that Order had make the world a good place to be? For everyone?

Shouldn’t Chaos, the natural state of the universe, be given its chance?

To be honest he found it hard to see how the world could’ve been in a much worse condition than when he’d found it.

Tonight’s work his wasn’t necessarily an action that would serve the needs of Chaos, at least not directly, but it would fulfil a good part of his assignment in Sunnydale and had the potential to make the town a great deal less boring.

It really was so predictable around here now. The Hellmouth drew the beasties and the Witches and their friends killed them.

And so it went on. Now where was the fun in that?

Where was the tension? The end-of-the-world terror that should’ve made this town so much more interesting? And lethal.

Lethality was a tool of Chaos. After all what was evolution but the advantages brought by the Chaotic mutation of an organism?

Hmm. Now that was unexpected. Since his last visit to the building, less than two weeks ago, someone had attempted to wall-off the office he was interested in.

He’d locked the existing doors mystically. Perhaps the Witches would’ve been able to get in, but no one else in this town. Not even Ripper.

As an added level of security to the mundane eye the doors wouldn’t have appeared any different to the walls around them either. The charm he’d put in place made sure that no one even remembered there was an office here as well as altering the perception of anyone who looked at them.

Sealed off at one time as a crime-scene the supposed new occupant had taken up residence elsewhere, leaving it free for him to make use of, and secure how he liked.

The trouble was they’d obviously been remodelling and a thin, hardboard wall had been laid over the doors they hadn’t even been aware of anymore.

That was… unfortunate. It had delayed him a little and it would make what had happened here a little more obvious as he didn’t have anything with him that would hide the ruined hardboard as it did the presence of the doors to the office.

Perhaps they’d believe it was still under construction though, that was a possibility. Certainly other parts of this floor were. All he’d done was to remove the hardboard panels, perhaps a little untidily. But it needn’t be too obvious if he moved some signs to suggest this had been official activity.

But then he didn’t have to hide what was happening any more. Once he was done here tonight this would just be a place with a past. And utterly irrelevant to the future.

Tonight, here, was the Night of the Phoenix. At least that was what the ancient ritual he’d appropriated for his own uses had called it. With some translation… and some reading between the lines he’d managed to pull it off.

He was sure that a real phoenix, a fascinating bird all too rarely seen these days, would’ve been a little quicker off the mark though. All it needed was a fire and, poof, an all new phoenix reborn from the ashes of the old. Light a fire in this building and there’d be an inch of water in the room before you could say ‘Jack Robinson.’ But he hadn’t needed a fire.

Just time and for this place to be left alone.

He hadn’t really needed to do anything, or even be in attendance once the ritual had been started in the proper way. However his employers had decided that it was best if someone was here to represent their interests and to make sure the whole incident passed without… well, without incident.

Particularly without any interference from a certain group of people, and thus his manipulation of the truth in this town tonight.

Manipulation? No, that was unfair to himself. He hadn’t manipulated the truth – he’d revealed it and to everyone at the same time. Without reservation or choice.

With luck certain parties who would’ve promised to thrash him to within an inch of his life would be otherwise engaged. With themselves, with each other or running around trying to save the town from the very value they rated most highly in the pantheon of do-gooding.

The truth.

And the truth of his purpose here was about to be exposed – if not revealed. Hopefully it wouldn’t ever be them that discovered it. Eventually the phoenix reborn here tonight would reveal itself, for its own purposes.

The bubbling, seething, mess of ingredients he’d laid on the floor of this office a few months ago had come to the boil nicely. Drawing in material from the carpet and the flooring below that. A bloodstain that had once been there… gone. As if something had been hungry to consume it.

The room was warm, though not warm enough to alarm anyone. Having been sealed for at least two weeks since his last visit, the air was thick with… something. And the smell was also curiously minty. He was absolutely certain no mint had been involved but he could definitely smell it. On the other hand perhaps, given the composition of the mixture at certain points in the process, perhaps he’d discovered the recipe for warm chewing gum. Wrigley’s look out…

Actually they should look out as he’d often thought of cursing gum… Perhaps turning it into a dental bond that sealed the chewer’s teeth together. It would certainly stop them spitting it on the pavement.

Or sidewalk as these colonials persisted in misnaming it.

Chewing-gum wasn’t what he’d cooked up though. No, he’d done something that hadn’t even been believed possible for centuries. Something described in only one or two surviving copies of what’d always been a very rare work.

And his old mate Ripper was the man he had to thank for making that available.

Oh, and the school library budget of Sunnydale High. For some reason a centre of mystical learning with few equals on the continent.

Looking down at his accomplishment he wasn’t precisely sure what he was waiting to happen. This was something that hadn’t really been laid out in any detail in Assala’s work.

Certainly there was nothing visible to the eye that indicted life. No flutter of the eyes. No rising and falling chest.

Perhaps there was something inside, perhaps some sort of dramatic pause built into the ritual. Some of the ancients had been forced to, or liked to, play to an audience. A dramatic pause wouldn’t be unheard of – it was part of what scared people about magic and ritual. The shock value was what made them tremble.

And did anything happen while he was musing how shocking that would be?

No. Still nothing was happening.

Nothing at all.

Perhaps there was still some time required for the process had he miscalculated the differences between Assala’s calendar and the one used in much of the world today? Though it looked completed was there actually something going on… inside?

Or was he just waiting for some spark?

It was just lying there, hardly what he’d expected for work this evening. “Bored now,” he muttered under his breath.

Now where had that come from? It was rather a childish way of speaking and one he certainly wouldn’t have wanted to adopt – much as the insidious nature of the colonial’s dialect kept on creeping up on him. He allowed his senses to stretch out, especially the ones few others possessed, searching for the source of the words.

They hadn’t felt like they’d come from within.

Ah… yes. There it was.

Now he understood. This place was filled with memories, memories that were seeping into his consciousness while he was here. Nothing unexpected, in fact Assala had written about it.

It was a necessary part of the process and why this had needed to happen here. The last of many deaths in this place. It was how the energy was gathered and prepared to re-invigorate the subject of the ritual.

A subject who shouldn’t have been any stranger to ritual.

Things wouldn’t stay boring for very long though. There was almost certainly going to be a clash with the Witches when they found – with one especially – and probably with the vampires too. For both there would be unpleasant memories. Feelings of betrayal.

No. Not bored for long now.

--------------

Tara lay watching her lady as Willow tossed and moaned in the bed beside her. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and the dim light that always held true darkness away.

It was happening again. Her girl was dreaming and there was nothing she could do about it. This was looking like it was getting serious again… It’d been every night for what? Three or four nights now? Much as they might distract themselves before sleep and easier as the dreams were on Willow now – not taking as much out of her – it remained a fact.

Okay, so three or four night didn’t look much next to the weeks and weeks of very little sleep Willow had been getting a few months ago… but who was to say this would be the last night?

She reached out and held Willow very gently. The tossing ceased but the dream certainly didn’t, and it wouldn’t help for long.

But what could she really do to help?

There was one thing about having a deaf houseguest; Willow’s dreams would never, ever wake Toni up. The same couldn’t be said of Tara herself. Long years of sleeping rough in dangerous areas had drilled the habit into her of waking at the slightest disturbance. It wasn’t as bad now, now she had long years of practice of sleeping comfortably with Willow too – but it was still a trait she possessed.

It didn’t take much to wake her and once awake – at least in the night – she wanted to be doing something. The morning was different… then she could be as sleepy as anyone else.

Once the sun came up daylight was her friend.

Now Willow on the other hand… Even if Tara ate strong cheese before bed – which was guaranteed to make her dream – Willow very rarely woke up.

Willow was a dreamer, there was no denying it. Even before the ‘bad’ dreams… the number of times she’d woken to find Willow having virtual conversations with herself. Often involving frogs and penguins, and what was up with that? It’d scared her a little at first, but now it was just part of the rich tapestry that was life with Willow.

Some dreams were good, some dreams were bad. For a time, at the beginning of knowing the real Willow, almost exclusively the latter. Back then… memories, memories of having a life taken from her more than once – of taking the lives of innocent people… All those memories had been reforming and coming back together when Willow had been returned from what lay beyond life – and death.

Tara knew she was a part of some of those dreams, both the good and bad ones. It was a curious condition of their existence, their affinity for magic, that they were both blessed and cursed with remembering most of their dreams.

Every moment… At least the ones that might have any significance.

Now why couldn’t it have been more useful trait, like a photographic memory or something? Something not dream related.

It could make for interesting situations though. Willow was, especially after a bottle of red wine and some chocolate, prone to… snugly dreams. Dreams in which there was snuggling. And when she woke – usually in the morning – Tara would often find a very demanding lover in bed with her.

But that was okay, Willow could make demands on her as much as she liked. And not just snugly demands. Naturally she was keen to give Willow red-wine and chocolate as often as she could.

And her girlfriend still hadn’t realised how that worked.

This wasn’t a snugly dream Willow was having now though.

Tara wasn’t even sure it was one of the dreams about the old days back at the Maclay house – Lilly and Ruth. And him. Those, by and large, hadn’t involved much tossing and turning. Even though the last few nights had featured those aspects… that was why she doubted it now.

Willow hadn’t even woken her last night. But then it’d been a strange night for dreams. Dreams of Lilly and Ruth… dreams of penguins too. And the crystal… what had Willow seen in the crystal? Had that even been a dream? Was he really ‘closer than death’?

Listening to the words she could make out, when Willow unconsciously said something… Words she hadn’t heard for a long time. It didn’t seem like the Lilly and Ruth dreams.

Tara was coming to think this might even be one of those that were about Willow’s memories of the vampire. Of being her.

Or at least something that upset Willow as much.

“Oww.” There was no holding her lover, much as she tossed and turned, flinging her arms and legs out, Tara couldn’t stop her moving anymore. She’d tried once – and… now she’d got whacked on the nose for her trouble.

It had really hurt.

Last time Willow had done that she’d been sooooo upset about doing it she’d even forgotten about the power of kissing it better. At least until Tara had pointed a few other places that she’d whacked in her dreams and also needed kisses. Not just kisses either.

All she could do now though was to hold onto the duvet and stop Willow from flinging it to the floor. That and whisper a few comforting words that she hoped would seep into the dream world and make it a little easier for her woman to escape from there.

Willow had said that’d often helped in the past – that she remembered words from the outside breaking into her dreams, comforting her.

Securing the duvet had left her all snug and Willow uncovered – but there was nothing at all erotic about the way her lady was contorting herself, nor anything precious about the moans and words that escaped her lips.

Tara thought about waking her – something she hated to do even if a dream was bad because she knew it could be a bad idea. But she held back and eventually Willow woke herself up.

And Tara was there for her as she was supposed to be. Willow was always there when she needed her, she always did her best to return that favour…

“I was dreaming again?” Willow said so very softly when Tara turned to her in the dim light, caressing her hair.

“You were baby,” Tara confirmed. “You remember?” Often it took a while before the dreams crystallised in the memory. Did Willow already have access to them? Or was she still confuzzled-girl?

“I don’t think I want to…” Willow said, snatching at the duvet and pulling a part of it over herself. There was no real need to snuggle into it because it really wasn't cold – besides Tara knew she was all the snuggling Willow would want. But it was probably just a sense of being enfolded Willow wanted.

She’d want comfort and Tara was happy to provide it. Tiny kisses. Gentle caresses and loving embraces… Just what the doctor ordered. Protection, submersion in the unity that was both of them.

Tara knew Willow already remembered though. They always remembered in time – it seemed to be a part of their awareness. A blessing and a curse depending on whether it was a dream or a nightmare.

And whether either of those was real.

“What was it?” she asked again. “Which?”

“I… She…” Willow started.

They knew who he was when they talked about those other dreams because it was the tone of voice they’d always used for she before that. The vampire – the vampire who Willow possessed all the memories of and the guilt because of...

Even if that last burden shouldn’t have been hers.

So it had been about those not so long gone days. Not the farm a century or more ago. Not him. What was this? The first time in three or four years Willow had suffered dream prompted by the vampire’s memory? More than that?

“What?”

“She killed the Mayor…” Willow said. “And he let her. He let her.”

Tara pulled her lover to her and they melted into their most comfortable embrace, one in which they had never had any trouble falling asleep. They allowed their sleepiness to mingle and merge. Together. Willow soon drifted off, comforted by her presence.

It took Tara a little longer; the words Willow had spoken were racing in her head – especially after last morning when Willow had said that he seemed… ‘closer.’

It was occupying her so much so she’d had to hold them back from the connection or they’d have both been lying here awake until day broke.

‘He let her.’

He wasn’t the only one. Tara had let her too. She’d let the vampire do an awful lot of things. To so many victims, as if they’d been no more than blood bags. To Faith.

To her. The vampire had done so much to her…

And to him just before the end.

She’d… encouraged the vampire to deal with the Mayor. A man who seemed to have loved her – in his own paternal way. And she’d let the vampire kill him as one of it’s last acts.

Tara admitted to herself that she’d needed it to happen.

Sleep didn’t come as quickly it should have, even in this embrace. Her thoughts were filled with another Willow. A harsher, crueller Willow who shared nothing with this beautiful woman in her arms except a body and a fascination with one Tara Maclay.

As she often did when such thoughts came to her, Tara couldn’t help cursing herself. It wouldn’t have mattered. Not in the end. It wouldn’t have mattered at all.

I should’ve killed her sooner.

-----------------

“Tiger! No!”

Naturally the kitten didn’t pay the blindest bit of attention to him.

Ethan darted across the room after his newly acquired companion. He didn’t mind curiosity in the little fella, but there were some things it was safer not to investigate, bite or lick.

One such unlickable thing should have been the pale cheek of the form that was lying naked on the floor. Had the minty smell drawn him?

Tiger shouldn’t have been standing on its chest and licking the end of its nose either.

But in the end that might have been what had done it. Had that been the spark? A moment’s curious investigative affection from a little cat?

And if it had been… what if Tiger had bitten or scratched the body instead?

As the kitten’s tongue brushed over the subject’s nose one more time an enormous shudder ripped through the body, startling him. Young as he might have been, Tiger was still a cat and that meant he was developing an innate balance.

As the naked body spasmed and arched, the young cat stood firm on top of it, seeming to think it was just another experience in its young life and not at all alarmed by what was happening underneath him.

Indeed from the spasm the body went into an almost catlike stretch. One like Ethan had seen Tiger himself make and take an almost indecent amount of pleasure from.

As the arch worked its way out of the body and it lay flat on the floor again, the eyes snapped open. The mouth opened in a soundless scream that became a long shuddering intake of breath.

All this from a lick on the nose?

The eyes flicked around what had once been an office, meeting Ethan’s for a moment before continuing onwards to look, finally, at Tiger who was just inches away. Perched atop the body – the person – Tiger didn’t grasp what’d just happened.

In time, he’d understand but for now the cat had to enjoy being young, exploring and being petted.

“Well gosh, aren’t you just the little cutie,” the young man lying naked on the floor said eventually, reaching up to scratch behind Tiger’s ear. Naturally Tiger responded. Anyone who’d pay attention to him was worthy of another lick, and a lot of rubbing. “Oh no, no more licking. Cat saliva isn’t at all clean and hygiene is very, very important.”

He looked down at himself.

“But then so are clothes.” He turned his head to look up at Ethan being as he was still lying on the floor. “Your kitten?”

Ethan nodded and held out the pile of cleaners clothing he’d left behind in this office on previous visits. “Your clothes, Mr Mayor. We’ll need those for you to get out of here.”

“Thank you. But I wonder could you have done this without making such a mess?” the former Mayor of Sunnydale asked, looking around at what had once been his office.

*****************

[Katharyn]

This is a horrible thing to admit in my own fic, but I can't honestly remember whether I ever specified Toni's surname in the fic so far. Nor can I find anything in the text without reading every page.

Yikes!

If anyone who read it more recently than I can remember if I gave her a surname, please just post to say so... otherwise I'll go and make it up right away!

Or you can suggest one - all I found so far in the fic was that it was a mediterranean (sp) name and her forename 'may' be Antonia though she hates it - but anyone who says 'Soprano' will no longer be original!

I've been avoiding specifying it for ages just because I didn't want to face this... you know as soon as I do, someone will say "but in part 111 you called her this." LOL

Thanks

Katharyn

[Katharyn]

Nevermind, Toni has now been given a surname *S*

After reorganising my material and checking it out we're going to be going to part 241 or 242 but (apart from the last two parts which will form kind of an epilogue) those will be set over just a 2 month story period.

So yes, it's all going to get a little intense!

Katharyn