I am still smarting from that... but I am touched by your words of support. They mean alot. I also take the lack of the "polite naysaying" as a line under this matter.
I love you all.
And for your kind words Part 51 is below. The notes, written weeks ago, do not refer to it. I do not intend to again. Thankyou once more and *HUGS* for Kittens.
Katharyn
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Title:
The Sidestep Chronicle – Yours and Sleep (Part 51)
Author: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome.
katharynrosser@hotmail.comSpoiler Warning: Pretty limited. The story occurs in an alternate universe though reference is made to events that occur in both realities.
Summary: A VW/T Interlude before what is coming. Willow’s PoV.
Disclaimer: I still 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.
Rating: 15
Couples: VW/T and all that means
Notes: I have quite deliberately stolen one of the finest canon W/T lines for this fic and used it for my own purposes. No apologies but all credit to the writers.
Thanks To: Xita who as I write this has taken a new status for herself and by the time this is posted will be well used to that role… Project X-Box… hmmm?
Sass who came up with an idea long, long ago that is finally expressed a little more fully here.
The Sidestep Chronicle
Yours and Sleep
By
Katharyn Rosser
It was quite deliberate on Willow’s part to arrive back home this late... Home though? Was that what it was to her now? A place to sleep and play that she had returned to virtually every night since… Since she had found her Kitten. Only daylight, miscalculation and the command of the Master had ever kept her away. That and a desire to taunt the Kitten with an unfulfilled promise. But she had not done that for a long time. And now her Kitten… now her Kitten might be going away.
In an hour of so dawn would break Sunnydale. She had no intention of miscalculating or taunting this morning. Even though she knew that the Kitten liked to have her home earlier rather than later and that was why sometimes she just couldn’t do that, she wanted to be there tonight. She couldn’t
conform… couldn’t always obey the Kitten’s desires. Even now. But she could
choose. Knowing what she did. Fearing what she did about the near future.
Despite that, as much as she might fear, as much as she might like to have her playtime, before sleeping through the sun blighted day, there was still something deep within her that rebelled against the notion of allowing the Kitten to control or change her. Even now.
The one that would obey. That was the old Willow. The one who could be changed and moulded. The one that she remembered as another life entirely – literally now as she had died more often than anyone she had heard of, in history, religion or mythology. Old Willow was the one who had moulded her consciousness. The one who gave her the memories that drove her into rebellion against them. The doormat. The book worm. The net geek. The science nerd. The Mommy’s girl who had been… so rarely her own person. A Mommy’s girl with a mother who paid her so little attention that she had no idea what the person she had created was even like.
Was it that old Willow who feared for Tara now?
Couldn’t be could it? She didn’t exist anymore. Except as a memory.
But if the fear was there, then what was that inside her? The old Willow had always been like this. Feeling. Fearing. This was not who she was now.
And Willow was thankful that she was no longer a person at all. That she shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t be worried what happened to the Kitten. She had her freedom and she intended to maintain the independence that brought her. So she hadn’t come in with Tara at one or two in the morning. She had seen the Kitten on her sweep through the town. As she did many nights when Tara wasn’t with that bitch of a Slayer, she had followed the Kitten… and the Kitten had known that she was there. She had watched as Tara killed vampires that she would once have been told were her brothers and sisters. So the Master always asserted. Crap more like. Vampires were solitary hunters, she knew that. Only the weak and the fearful chose to associate with others of their kind. Even the Master. Look at how he had forced his “brethren” to stand by him during all those years when he had been trapped in the Hellmouth… and on rising he sought “automated” methods of feeding.
He had asked her to create it for him, even though the very idea of losing the thrill of the hunt disgusted her. It would make them… human.
Just with a different diet.
He was not worthy of her. Or was he?
Only the Kitten was for certain. But wasn’t he going to destroy her fun? Wasn’t he going to kill the Kitten… along with the Slayer? He was… he was too powerful for them. He had survived more Slayers than the Kitten had years in her young life.
Was she going to have to… get the Kitten something for her birthday? Willow shuddered. Gifts… the last time she had ended up giving away her supper. Strictly carnal gifts this time.
If the Kitten saw that anniversary at all.
Where had the tinge of fear been in the exsanguinator she had built on his command? To work right the human had to be stunned. Still. Otherwise their writhing would break the delicate mechanism. Where was the fear then? The blood had been flat. Willow had tried it herself. Fresh but lifeless.
And where was the lust for the kill rather than just food? He had branded humans little better than cattle for their methods… and yet he had aped them with his desire for mass production. Even though he had later dropped the design for the future, that sort of weakness disgusted her.
That he would even start to think like that.
Reliance on any single source. Any single being… It was a weakness. He would have made vampires weak. They would have been as incapable, within a few years, of hunting for their own food as her mother would have been in the forests near Sunnydale.
She owed him nothing… he had not even brought her back.
And the Kitten… this was the Kitten. If it had just been the Slayer she would have revelled in telling him. Preparing the trap with him and for him. But she couldn’t. Not now. Not when it was the Kitten. She would even allow the Slayer to live to save the Kitten.
She would allow the Master to be destroyed. And why not?
Always assuming that the Kitten succeeded. The idea that she might fail? Bad, very bad.
Willow moved silently into the apartment, feeling the insistent itchy pressure of Tara’s wards against her despite being invited and having the charm. The doorway always itched. It was a nice itch though… one she had got the Kitten to scratch many times now.
The witchy Kitten… so clever and resourceful. She would have been a worthy adversary in other circumstances – certainly not ever boring. But these were the circumstances in which they now existed. Willow came to the bedroom and found it, as usual, perfectly laid out. The Kitten naked under the sheets… a state that made Willow more inclined to interrupt that slumber. But she didn’t. Not this night.
This night she needed to be close to the Kitten. Because this was the last night. The last time. If things went badly.
Deep down Willow knew that she could have come back earlier. Enjoyed her Kitten more. But she had just had to prove, one last time, that she was not housebroken. So she had proved it. The Kitten would probably have been upset. More if she had known why.
What had proving that got her?
She might never have to prove that again.
Clothes were laid out for her Kitten to dress swiftly. Weapons to hand… but Willow knew that Tara would never raise one of them to her. She never had. Not even during their first meeting when the stake had been there but never pointed
at Willow. The Kitten… trusted her. She knew precisely what Willow was and yet she trusted her.
And I let her trust me… because I never violate it.I choose not to. I could if I wanted to. I really could. But I make a choice not to do that.Sometimes Willow violated her Kitten’s mind and body but never the trust that marked the lines Tara existed within. She eased her own body into the chair in the corner and Tara stirred as the chair creaked. She stopped her movements. Nothing. No breathing, even though the human memories within screamed at her to start breathing again. A legacy that was unnecessary. It was why vampires sometimes seemed susceptible to choking even when they had no need for breath. Her heart was as still as it had been for years. She was in absolute command of her body. Only her eyes moved… roaming the room and the soft light that was cast through the curtains, silhouetting Tara’s form in the bed.
But did I ever really touch her in the way that I wanted to? Did I ever truly violate her mind or her body? Did I ever do anything that she would not have accepted from me? Accepted just because it was me? Was that why hurting the Kitten had lost its allure? Was that why she felt…?
She looked at Tara. She knew every curve intimately. She had licked and stroked them. Scratched them, sometimes until she had accidentally drawn a little blood, which she had lovingly, but not hungrily, lapped up. She knew every point. She had caressed them and bitten them. She had smelt, brushed and plaited that hair and pulled it gently to encourage the Kitten in certain directions. She had thrust her tongue between the Kitten’s lips. She had played with Tara in ways that she had never indulged herself with a kill. And the Kitten had taken it all… and more and more she had given it back.
And I let her. Because I feel…And tomorrow… it might end. No more playtime.
This time tomorrow it might all almost be over.
All of that fun… and she couldn’t remember anything that had been more sensual than sitting in this chair watching the Kitten sleep. The sheet a little askew, revealing a calf and a glimpse of hip. The tiniest swell of the Kitten’s full and sculpted breasts. Willow had never considered the word sculpted in that context until she had seen, licked, sucked and toyed with her Kitten. Sculpted because they could have been designed for her pleasure. Those were all things Willow had enjoyed but none more than simply watching her now.
It shook her. What was this? Nostalgia? Regret? Maybe so…
Would this be the last time? Maybe one more night. The decision was not final yet as to when they would go. The Kitten and the Slayer. Willow would not have waited.
It was erotic and, despite her concerns, it was arousing to Willow. Her body and her instincts screamed at her. They wanted her to go and play. To go and let the Kitten awaken to find her sat atop her and running her nails over the Kitten’s scalp. Or to tease the Kitten in her sleep… offer Tara some pleasure while she slept and hear her dream the things that she was doing, not realising where the dream ended and perhaps a nightmare began.
But she didn’t do any of those things.
She just sat and watched Tara sleep. Hour after hour. It was a weekend and unless the damnable Mayor had some special project then the Kitten would not be required. He would let her rest. Prepare for what was coming. The alarm did not go off. Willow did not move. She had no circulation so she got no cramp. The desire to breathe faded from her thoughts, which were filled with the Kitten. No longer was the Kitten silhouetted against the soft penetrating glow of streetlights, now the shadows were sharper against the harsh brightness of curtain filtered daylight. The effect awakened Willow even as it induced lethargy in her. She felt sleepy, but she had not taken her eyes off the Kitten drinking in the sight of her. At rest. Turning. Twisting. She even refused her instincts’ demands when Tara was accidentally exposed to her.
Later for that. There was still a later.
Tara stirred only gradually. The brightness penetrating her eyelids… and Willow watched as she awoke. Twisting in the bed and reaching out to where Willow should have been beside her. Finding the bed empty. The Kitten groaned but wasn't awake… no other reaction yet. Still coming to, it took her longer to process the information about the empty bed. Willow could imagine the thought process going on in there.
‘Empty… where is…she? Where? Did she come back…to me? Did she…has she been…?’
Willow knew the thought process because she had found herself going through it herself when she occasionally awoke to find that Tara wasn’t there. And she hated that she felt that way. Every day that it happened she hated it. It was no… fun. And she had, so often, used the frustration of that hatred on the Kitten whose fault it was. In delicious ways. Always wondering, at the back of her mind, whether this would be the time that Tara would stop her… if it would be the time that the Kitten took control once more.
Willow hated wanting that.
And she hated waking alone. Was that why she had done it to Tara now? No. She had just wanted to watch her Kitten.
They had never planned it but they tried to coordinate their differing needs for sleep with naps…but it wasn't possible at the end of the day, which was the start of her night. Willow was above all a creature of leisure… she could come and go as she pleased whilst the sun was down. The Kitten was a working woman forced to operate in both day and night. These snatched hours in the pre-dawn were their time… should have been. She regretted not being beside Tara now. Regret?
No. No regret. She had got to watch her Kitten.
Perhaps Willow just hated that her mind betrayed her and implied… feeling, human feeling? No not that she had the feeling… She could accept that and value it. But that she still had any feeling at all? She was so far beyond that… or should have been. She was dead… and loving it. She was dead and yet still she felt for a living, breathing human.
It had been different with Xander. He was… a carry-over from her human days and transformed with her into the superior state that they had been gifted with. It was natural that her feelings should have followed them into death… and beyond. The extraordinary tolerance she had felt for him; the memory of their pasts affecting her vampire self… and they had lots and lots of fun. All sorts of fun – all bar one sort. Much as he might have wanted her.
But with the Kitten… Willow was always coming across new thoughts. New feelings. New desires. Unconnected with anything in her past… only what she was today. Now. A reflection of what she had always been deep down. That was what her desires were back in the old Willow but still… to be manifesting them? Not in memory… but in genuine feeling. Others might even call it love. But she never would say that word to the Kitten. Never. To say that would be to surrender the last vestige of dignity that she had with the Kitten. Without the dignity then the games… they would change and they might not be as good. It wasn't fair.
Why can’t I just kill her? Make her like me…? Eternal and safe from the Master.
Tara would be one of the Brethren then. And they could both kill the Slayer. Bathe in her blood. Drink it and test its legendary properties…
But Willow knew the answer… even if she could not say the word. It was because she didn’t want Tara to be changed… She didn’t want Tara to lose what she was right now. Because then she wouldn’t be her Kitten. She wouldn’t even be Tara… one day though… when eternity was their only option… would she?
Willow honestly didn’t know. Honesty wasn't a virtue she often found herself considering. She didn’t have any virtues. She just had Tara. That was enough “good” in her existence thank you very much.
Her Kitten.
A Kitten that was lying and watching her smiling slightly as she observed her. Almost purring. The sheet in no way covering her now… tantalising… tantalising. So tasty… so lovely… so… hers. Willow smiled back then caught herself in the ‘nice’ gesture and allowed her desires free reign, licking her lips instead... lasciviously. But the Kitten had seen it… the softening towards tenderness. And it wasn’t fair. On the Kitten. Tara couldn’t start to think that she would change, even at this late stage. Because Willow never would. She was eternal now. And fixed.
“What are you doing?” Tara asked her.
“Watching you my little Kitten.” She wanted to add that she was watching her body, imagining what she would do to and with it… whenever she wanted to. But she didn’t. She didn’t hold it back… it just wouldn’t come and that was disturbing. God she needed a kill to purge her system of… whatever this was. But it was daytime already and there was only the Kitten. “Watching my little Kitten,” she repeated. Besides Tara wouldn’t like her to do that.
Tara nodded, seeming to think that she understood when she couldn’t really, and lifted the sheet exposing her entire body. An invitation to Willow. An acceptance of what she thought the demon in her bedroom wanted and needed from her.
And though Willow drank the sight in and it filled her undead body with a kind of warmth and heat that it would otherwise never generate Willow just sat there watching the Kitten, who eventually lowered the sheet, looking a little worried at the refusal. The first time Willow had refused something greater than a hint.
A direct invitation to play…
What did that mean?
What it meant to the Kitten, Willow shouldn’t have cared. To her… it was a symptom of the fact that more and more her pleasures with the Kitten, their games, were not satisfying all her desires. She hadn’t even realised that she had desires beyond the carnal and hunt related… but she did. And they were not memories. They were real. She wanted to hunt. She wanted to taste fear and terror. She wanted to play with the Kitten… but also… in almost equal measure she wanted to… just be with Tara. In her presence. Like this. Maybe just a little closer though.
“I am you know,” Tara said quietly, wrapped once more in the sheet, which she curled protectively round her and held tight to her with a clenched fist.
“What?” Willow asked, roused from the thoughts that swept round her head.
“Yours,” the Kitten finished. If Willow had been standing she might have fallen. If she had been in bed with Tara, she might have set about playing with her. But she was here, at a safe distance and that left her time to think about the words.
It was the greatest and the worst thing that the Kitten could have said to her. But now, with what was going to happen, it felt good and that was the worst part. She enjoyed Tara telling her that. Her feelings soared. Because the Kitten had practically said she loved her.
Willow needed a violent kill. Several of them. She needed to inflict delicious indignities on her Kitten. That might drive those thoughts and feelings from her. What she did was shed her clothes to lie with the Kitten for the next few hours. They didn’t say another word. And eventually that quiet desire was temporarily sated. It had been… better than fun. The midday sun was overhead outside as Tara eventually rose from the embrace they found themselves in and as Willow drifted into another sleep she even dreamed of walking down the main street of the town hand in hand with the Kitten. Without bursting into flame.
It was her nightmare. And she always looked forward to it.
But now she had another nightmare.
What the Master was going to do to the Kitten.
*************
You hear that baby? I am going nowhere.
This was really, truly great.