Fic: - The Sidestep Chronicle & Second Chronicle

[Katharyn]

Lets face it... it's Vamp Willow...



Don't worry about your pondering... I have docs and docs filled with notes. I have a notebook, I have over 600 pages of fic, and post-its stuck everywhere. I can't remember everything either...



Redraft is like discovering it all over again*S*



Part 32 tonight Kittens... I will be in serious need of feedback, it's gonne be one of those days.



Katharyn

----------

You hear that baby? I am going nowhere.

Edited by: Katharyn at: 5/5/02 11:42:50 pm

[mariacomet]

Okay so I have been thinking...



*suddenly notices that everyone looks all scared* Hey gang, where ya going?



Ahem...okay, I get the Lilah and Mayor thing to a degree, but where the frell does Amy play into all this? Are we gonna see her again?



My theory *hums 'I have a theory* is that Willow has to be rehumanized (is that a word) at some point for this all to work. Because Willow feels the stirrings of human emotion, but it's like a whisper and the truth is that she is making Tara miserable....it's that painful love that sort of goes back to Angel/Buffy. Love with-in angst. Moments of happiness but a lot of pain and doubt. So I figured this prophecy is going to come back and bite the Evil powers that be in the arse.



We'll see of course. I am looking forward to more exploration of Willow and Tara and VW rediscovering her 'weak human side' But more then that I look forward to Willow being in love. she is pulled in by destiny now and emotions she can't put a name too....forgotten emotions. Like the old Willow she once was has refused to die entirely and that part love Tara and is screaming to work it's will.



You are brillant and these are some poignant amazing scenes you have created. I know you have SO much more in store for us. *HUGS and buys a sign professing my eternal love for Katharyn*



MC

[Katharyn]

Part 32 Kittens, which I was going to save until tomorrow as it, again, is quite light. Contrasts you know...

But no....

First though Mariacomet - *HUGS* You have no idea...

It's funny that you should mention Amy as I have today resolved her future and that of another character. I wouldn't get obsessed about her though.

It is an interesting theory that you have. It is safe to say that as this is a journey they will not be as they are now (or were at the start) by the end.

You take what you find in a fic like this, interpretation is neither right or wrong. I didn't write a guide book first... Willow though. The real Willow. She is dead. That sounds obvious but I mean within VW. She is remembering things... but she is not reacting to that - to me at least. What Willow is doing is feeling. VW is feeling and VW is reacting to that - yes shaped by the real Willow's memories... but thisis VW. She explian it better herself and will do eventually.

You have a feeling there is so much more to come? I guess you are right. I went through the master draft today. I am estimating finishing in Part 60-70 give or take. More than I thought. But all the parts are there now. They just need redraft and beta.

And yeah... I love you too hun.

Katharyn

And with that onto Part 32:

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

Title: The Sidestep Chronicle – The Chosen (Part 32)
Author: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. katharynrosser@hotmail.com
Spoiler Warning: Pretty limited. The story occurs in an alternate universe though reference is made to events that occur in both realities.
Summary: Tracking down the Slayer.
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: None
Notes: Well I have been teasing you long enough with the hunt for the Slayer. She’s on her way as of right now… The last of the cast will soon be in place and every one of them is vital. Hold onto your hats. Based on the current word count we just slipped over the halfway mark in this fic. There is an endnote.
Thanks To: Rane for the Fanfic Help Thread. The cast of Buffy and Angel who bring all this to life. Jo whose beta is truly inspirational – once she has been though a part I have no fear of posting it. Kerry who is like the very best thing to bounce anything off… though I prefer ideas… Louise who is only interested in one sort of bouncing. Space Hoppers ahoy spoiler free kittens!


The Sidestep Chronicle

The Chosen

By

Katharyn Rosser


It really was quite invigorating. At least the first mile out of the boat had been. The second, third and fourth were beginning to wear just a little thin. Now he had the sneaking suspicion that something had fallen or crawled into his waders. Still it was so natural and back to nature-esque. Natural. That was definitely the very definition of this swamp. It was nothing if not absolutely natural.

It certainly smelt natural.

In fact Wesley doubted that he would smell anything other than the naturalness of this swamp for days to come. Quite possibly weeks. It was rather like a hybrid. Neither one thing nor the other. Not river nor solid ground. It was quite definitely a swamp. He was far more certain of that than of the directions he had been given by the gentleman with the rather thick local accent at the boat hire establishment – which had rather resembled a shack actually. He couldn’t be absolutely certain but he believed that he might have paid someone who hadn’t actually owned the boat.

Ah yes though – the directions must have been correct after all. There was a swirl of smoke up ahead rising into the sky. From the top of a nearby embankment that he could not quite see beyond. He was making good time after all. It was still daylight and he also had it on very good authority that the local vampire king made very sure that no rogue vampires operated within his territory. Which was good for a searching Watcher who was under orders to avoid all forms of confrontation. Those vampire had just better watch out though if they did meet up with him. He had his stake. He patted the pocket that the stake was in.

Should have been in.

Right. Wesley redoubled his efforts to get to the embankment.

He had a larger mission than simply searching though. Given to him by Quentin Travers himself. After the failure of innumerable others in the task it was he who had the new Slayer to locate and convey to her first assignment. Wesley Wyndham-Price – Missing Slayer Hunter. It really was an honour to be selected and, traditionally at least, was the herald of great things to come – for the Watcher. And after the failure of all those others… that boded very well indeed.

They had all met at the Sunnydale Hellmouth several weeks ago – months actually. Fascinating as it was there he had been given very little opportunity to investigate the place further. Simply a place to meet. Quentin had assessed the situation there and confirmed the earlier conclusion of the Council that following the death of the last Slayer the new one should be assigned to the Hellmouth in Sunnydale.

Initially Wesley had dared to hope, when he was summoned to the meeting, that the new Slayer was to be entrusted to his care. Whilst Sunnydale was so very… American and quite under resourced in terms of the critical Watcher texts it was a pleasant enough place to operate from. He thought perhaps that could like it – given a chance. There was certainly a great challenge to be conquered. He had, then, been more than a little bit disappointed to be told by Quentin that Mr Giles was to remain the resident Watcher and would be assigned the new Slayer. Where was the new Slayer, he had asked? That, replied Quentin, was his purpose.

And that had been exciting to hear. Whilst he would have preferred, of course, to be the Watcher to the Slayer he had to admit that the faith shown in him by the Council was… well a little surprising. He was actually quite young to be sent to track down a Slayer. To be her first point of contact with the Council – a key mission that would determine the future course of the Slayer’s relations with her eventual Watcher. It had formerly been traditional that the new Slayer would be contacted by her own Watcher – to engender trust and understanding. Indeed in the early history of the Council he knew that there had been races, not all of them good natured, between those from the Council trying to locate and contact the Slayer. The winner would serve as her Watcher – the plum assignment.

That, of course, had to be stopped. And had been. Firmly stamped out. And quite rightly. But there were circumstances under which it was not possible for a Watcher to locate his or her own Slayer – particularly when her location was rather less than obvious. As was the case with this one. She had eluded detection for quite some time now. The situation was not entirely unprecedented though - the diaries from the 16th Century suggested that there once had been a period of five years before a Slayer was tracked down.

In Mr Giles’s case Wesley could certainly appreciate the necessity of having someone else being sent to locate the Slayer. Wesley would not have wished to attempt to hold down his particular fort for him whilst he had come here to wade around in the swamps searching for her.

Further more, historically, the Watcher selected for such a valuable duty had usually been the next to be appointed – or at least the one after that. With the typical, and unfortunate, life span of a Slayer that might mean he had a Slayer of his own within two or three years… and given the prevailing conditions on the Sunnydale Hellmouth quite possibly sooner than that. Outstanding – then he would jolly well show those vampires a thing or two.

Of course, the search had dragged on rather longer than the Council would actually appreciate – however look at where it had brought him. It had taken over three weeks for the Council psychics to even pin her down to this continent for him – let alone this state and later county.

It was a slow, but very valuable, job.

And so, with those hopes and ambitions in mind, Wesley took distinct pleasure in wading through the swamp. Incognito. He had his waders and his fisherman’s hat. Both served a practical purpose. Whilst he would have been happier in his shirt and tie, quite possibly in the heat without his jacket, this way was better. People would certainly start to wonder at an Englishman in a swamp in a suit. Besides his shoes would have been ruined. If not lost entirely in the sucking… mud was it on the bottom?

One had to wonder, however, why whatever force chose the Slayer could not have selected a chosen one who lived within convenient walking distance of the nearest public transport. It certainly would have made his life a little easier.

He finally dragged himself onto the firmer footing of the embankment, bear hugging a dead tree that rose from it. Taking some steps up the slope he started to slide down it once more. Voices! He must be there. Voices. “Oh I say?” he called, hoping someone might hear him and give him a hand up the embankment. It was really was awfully slippery. “Excuse me?”

Two heads stuck themselves over the top of the embankment. Children. “‘Hello! My name is Wesley. Do you think you might find someone who could give me a hand up?”

They looked at him, no doubt analysing his accent and then laughed, drew back out of sight and could be heard continuing to laugh as they ran away. Leaving him hugging the tree once more, in waders and a hat. Oh well. Self-reliance and all. It was a test and he was rather good at tests if he did say so himself. It was as he concluded this thought that he lost his grip and fell onto his backside in the shallow edge of the swamp, failing as he did so to keep his torso upright. Water, and that was not perhaps the most technically accurate description, flooded into his once rather cosy and certainly dry waders. Drat.

“Hey you.”

He looked up and saw a young, dark haired woman looking down at him. Certainly not tall enough for a Slayer and those leather trousers? Those would allow no freedom of movement at all in a fight. And what must they be like in this heat? Hardly practical. Not the girl he was looking for. Besides she appeared to be chewing gum. At least he hoped it was gum, he supposed in a place like this it might be tobacco. Or possibly a stick. “Hello! My name is W….”

“Wesley, the kids told me.”

“Ah yes. Charming children. Yours?” he asked her, weighing up her age. He put her at perhaps seventeen. Give or take a year.

She raised her eyebrows and met his eyes. “Just how old do you think I am?”

“Oh! Oh… I am sorry. Yes absolutely. I had no intention of questioning your morals. A girl your age of course. No absolutely not yours,” he told her flustered. The children were perhaps eight years old, which would have meant…

She watched him squirm and not just because he had mud in his pants. “You probably think that us girls are all married off at ten down here.” Her accent didn’t quite fit the locality. He could tell because he could actually understand her.

“No. No of course not.” Terribly stereotypical. There had been evening classes at the Council on avoiding stereotyping.

“I was twelve,” she told him.

“Ah. Oh… Ohhh…” So the children could just about have been hers after all. Oh dear. Close your mouth Wesley.

“Just kidding,” she revealed with an almost nasty smile on her face. “So what’s your deal?”

“Ahh, I am just out for some fishing.” He gave his best innocuous smile. He had been trained to operate undercover when necessary – receiving a ‘B’ in that particular discipline.

“Out here?”

Clearly she was sceptical. Unfortunately the module he had taken hadn’t included scepticism, so he would just have to adapt. “Absolutely. I hear there are some wonderful… fish.”

“Right…” She said slowly. “But you don’t have a rod? Or do you have it hidden away in those waders?” she asked suggestively.

“Oh no… Absolutely not.” He saw her grin. “I’m not fishing,” he admitted. Darn it, she had out-foxed him. A rod! Of course. Stupid Wesley. Stupid.

“Thought not? You English?” She made no move down the embankment to assist him though as he struggled to get up from the water and mud.

“British yes. How could you tell?” She made a disgusted gesture. “Ah yes, the accent. It is quite a give away isn’t it?”

“Wicked conspicuous Wes. Just like the rest of you.”

“Wicked… quite. I say would you help me out?” Wicked… mmmn. Not a local dialect, but certainly strange. Wicked… He was pretty sure that there was something alive and wriggling in his waders.

“Sure.” She disappeared from sight without another word.

“Hello?” Nothing. “I say… hello?” Wonderful. He tried again to get up and collapsed into the waters, sinking a little deeper this time. Perfect.

And then she reappeared walking down some… steps. Steps? Where had those come from? “This way Wes.”

“That’s Wesley.” He struggled to his feet once more feeling the warm swamp water rush down his waders, then headed over to where she stood waiting for him and held up his clean hand for her to pull him from the water. She took the offered hand and pulled.

The suction had next to no effect on her efforts. She lifted him almost bodily from the muddy water and clear up to her level where he scrabbled to find a foothold. “My, you are strong.” Could this actually be the girl he was looking for? “And steps… how civilised.”

They reached the top and looked out over a thriving trailer park, a truck stop and a highway. “Yeah and we have roads and cars too. You might want to try using those rather than walking the swamp next time Wes. With way, I wouldn’t set out at night.”

“Oh why is that?” Could she be the one? One girl in all the world? This girl?

“Bad things out here at night. Snakes, mud that’ll suck you down in a minute…” She looked at him as if waiting for him to reveal the something else that was very definitely out there.

“Vampires?” he hazarded cautiously, ready to retreat from the suggestion if she had reacted with anything other than acceptance.

“Yeah, those too. You know about them?” she sounded dubious, perhaps the result of not having being believed by others. Perhaps just because he was British.

“I fight them. Wesley Wyndham-Price.” He offered her a hand, dripping as it was, wiped on his waders – which hardly helped at all.

“Yeah me too.” She ignored his muddy hand. “So how many have you killed Wes?”

This was the new Slayer and she was already killing vampires. Which would save the demonstration part of this operation. Excellent – he had no idea where the local cemetery was anyway. Of course she had been the Chosen One for quite some time. It was only natural that she would have started using those powers – with or without the guidance and training a Watcher could offer to her. But as to how many he had killed. “Ahh…well…”

She rolled her eyes. “That many huh Wes? Come on, I think there are some old clothes my Mom collected over the years that might fit you.”

“Was she a seamstress?” he asked following her. He hadn’t wanted to suggest that the girl’s mother might have been a washer-woman and seamstress was an honourable enough profession.

“No. She just screwed loads of guys. Not all of them took all their clothes with them when they snuck out. In fact she screwed our way from Boston to this lovely place.”

“Ah right. Yes.” What could he say to that. Still, never sit in judgement. “And will she mind me borrowing them?”

“I doubt it. She’s dead and never wore them anyway.”

Oh dear. He just kept putting his foot in it. “I am so very sorry.” Still stiff upper lip.

“Why?” she asked him sounding curious.

“For your mother being dead,” he suggested slowly, it had seemed the right thing to say.

“Hey don’t sweat it. It doesn’t bother me,” she told him and he realised that he hadn’t caught her name. Instead of asking though he scanned the trailer park that he had discovered atop the embankment. And the fairly substantial road, or highway as they would say around here, going right past it. He was fairly certain that he had driven along that very stretch yesterday.

He looked at the suspected Slayer again. This was not going to be easy. He could see that now. She was quite wild and having had so many months with the power – and none of a Watcher’s discipline – could have made her somewhat intractable.

She found him some clothes, giving him little choice in the style as she would not let him into the trailer covered in mud and so brought them out to him. Not his usual preferred suit by any means. “Bathroom block is over this way you can take a shower.”

“Thank you very much.” That was really most hospitable – and the clothes too.

She made no effort to leave him alone as he undressed so he was forced to cover himself and shuffle to the showers as she grinned. She was enjoying this, that was clear… and not for the sight of him either. He turned the shower on… and leapt out once more. The water was freezing cold, which was apparently a surprise only to him judging by the look on the young woman’s face. It was quite an achievement to get cold water around here… given the ambient air temperature. She must have known.

“Water must be pretty cold, huh Wes?” she said looking down his suddenly exposed body.

He looked down, “Very.” This was not going to be at all easy.

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

You hear that baby? I am going nowhere.

[willowphile410]

Yipee!!! In honor of the addition of one sexy brunette slayer, let me say that this update was five by five. I can't express how much I love this fic, Katharyn...it's wicked cool!

"coffee, kisses and gay love"...the only things in this world to live for...

[Katharyn]

Why thankyou Willowphile... but who said Faith?



I mean it walks like Faith, it talks like Faith... but no one said Faith.... they better not have. Is this fooling you?



Katharyn

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You hear that baby? I am going nowhere.

[molsongrrrl]

Hmmm my first thought was the slayer is Buffy -- just an alternate version of her!



I hope its not Faith -- not a Faith fan.

A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants

[wizpup]

Faith? Who said Faith? What's she doing here?



Now I'm confused. Isn't Tara the Slayer?



And who on earth thought some bumbling British guy would fit in to a story about American teens with super-powers?



Oh...him? He has some crap ideas doesn't he?



jo x

[willowphile410]

I certainly didn't say Faith...I said "brunette slayer"...nobody said anything about Faith...'cept you. *G*

"coffee, kisses and gay love"...the only things in this world to live for...

[molsongrrrl]

Well you did use the phrases five by five and wicked cool. I have only seen one slayer on "Buffy" use those sayings. So to be fair you may not have said Faith ... but you were referring to her.

A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants

[Katharyn]

I was trying to be humourous but I suck at remembering emoticons... sorry*S*



Yeah... I think F would be a safe assumption here. As for not liking her. Okay this whole characterisation of Faith is based on the premise she herself mentioned. I paraphrase but she says to Buffy "What if Giles had been MY watcher...."



Well this whole fic is a what if...



She might not be a good girl, but she will be a different Faith to the one who is locked up in Angel.



All that never happened



Katharyn

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

You hear that baby? I am going nowhere.

[tommo]

Heh heh. Excellent. Excellent. I admire your characterisations in this part; so easy to read and clear to see. Lovely. And uh, I'm not saying Faith either. Because I'd be like that girl at school that said what everyone else was thinking but it was embarrassing and in the end they all laughed at her for speaking up so I won't even begin to...



Ahem. It's very much like Faith. But I'm not saying Faith.



Dammit.

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"It's between a hitch and a kink, with a side of a twinge. It's okay."

[Tiggrscorpio]

Well alright, Faith's in the house. I went away for the weekend and came back to four new chapters. All of them brilliant.



Loved the Tara/VW/Lilah chapter. So delighted that VW finally realizes how strong Tara is. The subtle developments in their relationship are so interesting to watch. LOL at Miss Kitty being VW's snack. I could actually picture them hissing at each other. Wickedly delightful.



And speaking of wicked - Faith. This fic just has everything!

*****

She's my everything!

[Rane018]

i saw it was faith and thought to myself *oh ruth will be delighted!* both lilah and faith...



loving this, katharyn.

[Katharyn]

Characterisation was easy in this Ruth.... Fai... sorry a slayer*S* who is very distinctive and I challeneg anyone to put Wesley in waders in a swamp and not write him coming out as Wesley...*S*



This fic has everything now Tiggrscorpio... The last piece is now in place and we are ready to really get going... dare I say that the into has just finished? I would be lying... we are entering the second act I guess with the third being the conclusion and somewhat shorter



Thanks guys... really. I needed feedback tonight today has pretty much sucked even if I did get alot done... I am sure some of you know why. Least said soonest mended. Love you all.



Katharyn

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

You hear that baby? I am going nowhere.

[tommo]

Hee, Rane. I'm delighted at this story in general. But yes, a strong Slayer who is not Faith, ahem, is always good.



Katharyn, sorry to hear your day sucked ass (as I believe the Americans say, heh). There's always tomorrow you know. And uh, the day after that. *frowns at herself* Bah, Miss Psycho Pep Squad I'm not...clearly...

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"It's between a hitch and a kink, with a side of a twinge. It's okay."

[molsongrrrl]

sucked ass? is that what we americans say? i have got to start studying up on my vernacular ... apparently i am a bit behind ...



note to self: use sucked ass in a sentence today ....



hee hee -- just teasing ...

A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants

[Katharyn]

Okay okay It's Faith!



Don't blame me when I go through another full part (not the next one) without saying her name till the very end and it looks stupid*S*



And here I am Ruth... going to bed an hour ago... then the spoilers light up... I really am going now. Work tomorrow... what was that about fun leaving? Work definitely qualifies... and yeah thanks for the loving it... let me know if that is still going in part 60+



Katharyn

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You hear that baby? I am going nowhere.

[tommo]

Well Katharyn, you're nothing if not consistent. And hey, write as much as you want to, or need to, whatever. I'm all for it.

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"It's between a hitch and a kink, with a side of a twinge. It's okay."

[Kalita]

Lovely rendition of Wes, his early naivete comes over very well.



Fine rendition of, ah, your slayer there, as well. Can't wait to see her hit town as the Chosen One. And what will Tara think? And Lilah? And The Mayor? And....



Can't wait! More soon please!

"To be honest, some of the episodes depressed the hell out of me." - Joss on S6

[Zahir al Daoud]

Okay, I kinda figured Faith *would* be the next Slayer. This should be sooooooooooo interesting. Heh heh heh... I'm interested in seeing what her story in "Sidestep" will be, and if it dovetails with my own ideas about her, 'cause you and I, Katharyn, we think alike in a lot of ways.

"O Let my name be in the Book of Love!
If it be there I care not of that other Book above.
Strike it out! Or write it in anew, but
Let my name be in the Book of Love!"
--Omar Kayam

[Katharyn]

Thanks guys*S*



Ruth - Writing as much as I want to... It surprised me how much there was still to come... I feel we have been here for ages... and we have. Now that I am just redrafting things can move at the pace of the beta pretty much.



Kalita - Yeah Wes was fun. No more Wes. But on the plus side I don't kill him.



That isn't even funny.



Faith hits town in a couple of parts... transport arrangement take time and there are Wesley's (unseen) tests to administer first. Once she hits then thing start to happen - faster. The reaction of the Mayor/Lilah and the Master (lets not forget him!) are all there.



Oh and Tara... oh and Vamp Willow.



Zahir - I don;t doubt that we are infact, writing the same story. When someone breaks a pendant round here then we will jump straight into yours*S* Remember this vision of Faith is based on "If Giles had been my watcher." Not saying if that would have worked...



Part 33 probably tomorrow morning as I am out tonight. Say 24 hours from now.



Katharyn

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You hear that baby? I am going nowhere.

Edited by: Katharyn at: 5/6/02 10:56:45 pm

[VampNo12]

Great part Katharyn. I started reading the story and then whoosh the board went down, but I am glad I had a chance to finally read the rest of the update.



Glad to see bumbling Wesley in this part. So loved when he was ready if need be to take on vampires, but oops forgot that trusty stake. It was great to see his interactions with Faith, and I laughed out loud when he thought the kids he encountered were hers. I liked the slow, dawning realization that she may indeed by the slayer he was trying to locate, and when he found out she was already killing vampires I assumed he was quite glad. In other words, the demonstration part could be overlooked. I could only imagine if Wes had to do the actually demonstration what a mess he probably would of made of it, with probably Faith having to rescue him in the end.



With Faith's personality I assume there will be quite a few clashes between the new slayer and her watcher Giles. I look forward to finding out how this latest addition of Faith as a slayer affects the overall story, and how her arrival affects W&T in particular. Can't wait for the next part!

Edited by: VampNo12  at: 5/6/02 10:43:34 pm

[Katharyn]

Thanks VN12... I think I might have said it before but it's my fic I can repeat myself if I want to... Some parts are really fun to write. They all give a sense of accomplishment - except when they suck ass (I can use that too) - but some are just pure fun.



This was one.



Part 31 was one and there are some more still to come like that. Such as the decision about Amy that I made yesterday. Make of that what you will.



Katharyn

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You hear that baby? I am going nowhere.

[La]

Hey Katharyn, I just started reading this recently and finally caught up to where now I'm waiting for the updates. I love AU fics and this one is definitely up there with the best. Plus, I've always had a thing for VW.



Looking forward to the next update. And to seeing what happens once Faith gets to Sunnydale!

~La

You know you've been in Korea too long when you walk around with your shoes uncomfortably loose, but you don’t tighten them in case you have to remove your shoes and put them back on again any time soon.

[mollyig]

Wesley is portrayed perfectly. You have a real talent at staying true to the characters.

Adding up the total of a love that's true, multiply life by the power of two
Indigo Girls

[Katharyn]

Thanks La and welcome... nice cheery avatar you bring*S* Thanks too to Mollyig... Never wrote Wes before*S* I doubt that I shall again. It was just too perfect. Wes in a swamp - way better than Giles.



Next part in a little under 11 hours.



I shared what follows to a select few a couple of days ago. As to why it is here. I am not saying this is not the place though many of you will know. Nothing to do with the fic though so no speculation! The title of this post says it all. Just wanted to get this in place...



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



And love is not the easy thing

The only baggage you can bring...

And love is not the easy thing...

The only baggage you can bring

Is all that you can't leave behind.



And if the darkness us to keep us apart

And if the daylight feels like it's a long way off

And if your glass heart should crack

And for a second you turn back

Oh no, be strong



Walk on, Walk on

What you got they can't steal it

No they can't even feel it

Walk on, walk on...

Stay safe tonight



You're packing a suitcase for a place none of us has been

A place that has to be believed to be seen

You could have flown away

A singing bird in an open cage

Who will only fly, only fly for freedom



Walk on, walk on

What you've got they can't deny it

Can't sell it, can't buy it

Wal on, walk on

Stay safe tonight



And I know it aches

And your heart it breaks

And you can only take so much

Walk on, walk on



Home... hard to know what it is if you never had one

Home... I can't say where it is but I know I'm going home

That's where the hurt is



I know it aches

How your heart it breaks

And you can only take so much

Walk on, walk on



Leave it behind

You've got to leave it behind

All that you fashion

All that you build

All that you break

All that you measure

All that you steal

All this you can leave behind

All that you reason

All that you sense

All that you speak

All you dress up

All that you scheme...

-----------

Walk On - U2

Lyrics by Bono.





Katharyn

[Sassette]

Oh, Katharyn, how I adore thee...



Thank you for the song lyrics ... that's ... very nice, actually *G* I know I'll be reading that again later tonight.



As for the update - Yay! I can't wait to see just what kind of a monkey wrench a bad-ass Slayer in Sunnydale will have in the curious equilibrium that has developed.



I somehow feel the introduction of Faith into this volatile mix is going to be ... well, cesium and water comes to mind.



Oh, God, I'm a nerd. *G*



And the whole "if Giles had been Faith's Watcher" concept ... I'm really looking forward to where you're going to take that one.



-Sass

______________________________________

I Think The Hellmouth Tastes Like Chicken -- Autumn

[Katharyn]

I had to debate posting this right now. Ideally I would have had Part 31 or Part 32 here, which would at least have been lighter. Not that this is "bad" it is just not what I would have chosen for now. Sorry about that.

Then I sort of figured that people might want fic. Any fic...

So here it is. Read it now or read it later but be strong.

Katharyn
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Title: The Sidestep Chronicle – Tell Me (Part 33)
Author: Katharyn Rosser
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. katharynrosser@hotmail.com
Spoiler Warning: Pretty limited. The story occurs in an alternate universe though reference is made to events that occur in both realities.
Summary: Another Vamp Willow/Tara interlude.
Disclaimer: I still don’t own any of the copyrights or anything else associated with BTVS. All legal rights lie with the production company, writers etc, etc. Morally… I am not so sure. I am making zilch from this series of stories.
Rating: 15
Couples: VW/T… yeah I know… getting away from that is sort of the point.
Notes: There are going to be a few of these interludes and they should be seen to represent the passage of time and getting to know both Tara and Vamp Willow – and them as a pair… as usual. Not something nice. Indulge me… there is a point.
Thanks To: Laurel for coming up with a labour saving beta solution… Jo, Kerry (*8888888888888* Hun) and Louise. Every single Kitten adn especially Mariacomet for a timely piece of sweetness and Xita who is our rock. Aly and Amber...


The Sidestep Chronicle

Tell Me

By

Katharyn Rosser



Willow had no idea of the exact time when she released her prey and allowed the dead woman to slide to the ground in limp heap, turning and striding away even before the lifeless eyes had come to rest. Those eyes were still in their sockets though. She had resisted the temptation to pluck them out. The backpacker was still waiting at the bus stop where Willow had found her. She would just never get on a bus again.

The woman had taken a wrong turn into Sunnydale and failed to get out before night had fallen. She must have hitched in… there were no buses. So, really, if Willow hadn’t taken her then someone else would have – waiting at the bus stop here was like going and queuing to be a meal at the Bronze. That’s what she would tell the Kitten – if she asked. That the woman was aldead as soon as night had fallen.

And why, Willow wondered, do I even care what the Kitten thinks… I tell the Kitten. I don’t ever ask…

The large rucksack had told Willow that the woman was from out of town initially. That and being out after dark without taking any precautions. But she would have known it after the bite anyway. There was something… something about the taste of those from outside of Sunnydale.

Maybe it was something that the Sunnydale residents ate or drank that gave them the tang that Willow experienced whenever she dined on the local produce. Maybe it was the Hellmouth itself, the magic. Maybe that was what made them so delicious. That and the fact that they nearly always ran, or sometimes even fought back. They lived their whole lives in fear and this combined with the kick of adrenaline gave their blood a taste as delightful and as addictive as any of the drugs that Willow had never tried. Willow didn’t need drugs… she just needed the hunt.

And the Kitten.

That last meal though… she hadn’t run. She hadn’t fought back. She hadn’t even seemed to know what a vampire was. Willow felt cheated. Sated but cheated. Like eating a whole box of someone else’s chocolates when stealing just the last one gave you the exactly the same rush. The young woman had even stopped her, in the dark, and asked her when the next bus was due.

The naïve and the innocent. They seemed to be her taste these days. Tara was rubbing off on her. As well as up to her… She smiled. Willow knew that she was being subtly changed by the human with whom she was spending more and more of her time. Alongside. On top of… and very occasionally under.

Willow lusted for the kill and not just with a passion that came from hunger. The kill itself was a delicious thing. The power of it was enough to sate all but her physical hunger for blood. But since discovering the Kitten… she had not really indulged her other passions with her dinner dates. Half-heartedly perhaps, thinking that maybe she should play. But not really getting into the groove as she had before. It was getting to be like fast food. Eat and run. She wanted the free toy! Tonight’s little snack should have been more than simply tasty but she had not lingered and preserved the woman to play with her.

Fast food, she thought again. The meal was not as enjoyable without all the trimmings… but she was saving herself for dessert and what a dessert it would be… it always was. Willow knew that she should be bored with the same things… But she wasn’t. Not at all. How long since she had first visited the Kitten? Weeks and weeks. Maybe months… Willow could go for an age never even realising time was passing… she was eternal and she wasn’t bored. Why would she notice the time? There was night… her time. And there was day. That was time for her now.

Only with the Kitten - in these last weeks… only with her had she ever considered her desires restrained. Even so it wasn't as if she actually as if she stopped and thought ‘I shouldn’t do that – the Kitten wouldn’t want me to,’ she just didn’t much want to. Besides the Kitten wouldn’t even want her to feed at all. If she had not been getting exactly what she desired anyway then it would have bothered her…

Actually it did bother her… she wasn’t sure why it was happening. And if she should do something about it. Try harder?

Willow smiled as she put the thought from her mind and headed back into town and towards her playmate’s apartment. She might not know the exact time but with a vampire’s instinct for the rise of the sun she knew that she had a few hours yet before it climbed into the sky and excluded her from the world. A few more hours before Tara would have to leave and go to obey her own master… the Mayor.

Plenty of time for play.

Play…

Willow’s tortures for her playmates had always been physical. With the puppy, with her kills and with Xander. She had revelled in her reputation in the Master’s Court for cruelty but since finding the Kitten her tortures had become mental rather than physical. In fact… not so long ago she wouldn’t have even considered them tortures. But knowing what the Kitten was, what she wanted to do… destroy all vampires… Willow had found a delicious pleasure in reminding Tara just what she was… Over and over. She loved the fact that the Kitten gave herself over to her despite that.

It was a different form of cruelty in her play… and even that was giving her less satisfaction than it should do. It was delicious but it wasn’t fun.. still she persisted. She had to do something to the Kitten. But she would continue to indulge herself with the Kitten. She had to indulge herself somewhere. If she was just killing for food then what else was there? There had to be an outlet…

The Kitten was so easy to tease though. Sometimes it made Willow feel cheap – inflicting what she did on someone who did not resist, who did not fight back or assert herself beyond denial of certain things – and those would come too. It was all too easy. Would her playmate never fight back or even try to take control?

Maybe not but still, it was never, ever, boring.

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Willow was back. Here with her. And the vampire liked Tara to know it… to announce her presence and allow her ‘Kitten’ to prepare herself. It was all part of the game to Willow. She knew that the pendant would alert Tara, but still Willow would announce her presence in some other way. Tonight it was a sing-song “Willow’s here Kitten… Willow’s here.”

Tara turned over, turning her back to the bedroom door, deliberately lowering her guard and allowing Willow to come to her unwatched. This was a vampire that she was dealing with… and she hated that part of it. Hated the very thing she was powerless to change – she was already long since lost to Willow. Whatever she was, she was at least in part Willow. Tara knew that she was impotent in the face of the vampire – even to the extent that she tolerated the games that Willow played – ones intended to remind Tara of just what she was and what it was that she did. Tara looked at the carving that now sat on the bedside cabinet by her pillow.

A perfect representation of Willow carved by her subconscious. She didn’t even care what that meant anymore. She couldn’t figure out why Willow was in her head. And Willow didn’t have the answer either. They had talked about it. They had gone over it a dozen times until they were both bored of not knowing. Because it didn’t matter – or so it seemed. She had something that was flesh and reality. Reality that was far colder than the warm colour of the wood. Far harder too. And far more giving… in a strange way. The carving just wasn’t this Willow that was coming for her now.

It wasn't her Willow.

Sometimes she found that there was a small part of her that even wished that the vampire would take advantage of the trust she showed and just finish it as she inevitably would one day… but she knew that the wish was not the sum of her feelings. All that would do was avoid her fate… and if that denied her time to do what she had to do then it could never be a good thing.

What she had to do… and something else that she wanted to do.

Be with Willow…

And besides she knew that Willow would not do that. She wouldn’t kill Tara. Not so long as she kept enjoying ‘playing with the Kitten.’ Tara was a plaything. Her plaything. At least in Willow’s eyes… Tara knew different. She knew that she had made her own choice. There had always been a choice.

There are always choices Tara. Yes sir, I know that.

The bedroom door snicked open and she felt rather than heard the footsteps. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, breathing loudly and deliberately. But there was no fooling the vampire, who didn’t even bother to challenge her pretence. Besides there was the pendant, Willow would be able to see the chain. Tara could never sleep through the presence of a vampire wearing that.

“I just ate,” Willow said with deliberate intent.

Another person dead because I couldn’t do what I should, Tara realised. These were the sort of tortures that Willow inflicted upon her. She had known of course that Willow would feed. She always did. Each and every night when Willow came to herm she came having killed. And when she left, she left to kill again. More than one kill when the mood took her. And Willow seemed to delight in telling her. But actually… though Willow couldn’t realise it… that was exactly what she needed to hear. If Willow hadn’t insisted on telling her then Tara knew that she might have let the knowledge be put aside. And then it might not have mattered.

She would never forget it… but she could have ignored it. Willow was doing her a favour by reminding her so often. It did hurt – which she guessed was what the vampire wanted in her way – but like the fiery pain of the pendant it was a necessary reminder of what she was doing.

Tara squeezed her eyes a little tighter, no longer pretending to be asleep, and silently asked forgiveness from the soul of the newly departed.

Forgiveness. She asked for it, but did not expect to receive it. She knew that she wouldn’t have offered that forgiveness if she had been the one to die.

“She tasted funny,” the vampire went on as Tara opened her eyes, but remained curled up facing away from her. Willow removed her shoes. Being undead didn’t do anything for the feet after a long walk. She’d get the Kitten to see to them later on… when she’d had her fun, a foot rub would be just what she needed and the Kitten would do it because it would bring them closer. And the Kitten did so want them to be close.

Which suited Willow’s purposes.

“I d-don’t want to kn-know.” Tara never did. But she knew that she was going to find out anyway.

Willow just smiled at that denial. That Tara did not want to know was the only reason she bothered to tell the Kitten at all. The kill had been deeply boring… most of them were now. The only reason that Willow would dream of talking about what was just another nights feeding was that Tara didn’t want to hear it. Nothing special at all. Pretty important to the woman who had been that meal… but instantly forgettable to Willow.

Boring even… But it was a boredom she was, for some reason, imposing upon herself. Restraint.

That was the torture that Tara was, unknowingly, inflicting on Willow and it was a curious one to the vampire. With her prey. With this tempting morsel. She showed restraint that was against her nature – a lack of desire in one way – when compared to who she had been before. But her well of desire was being topped up from other sources now.

The vampire sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the sheet back to expose Tara’s naked back. Reaching out her hand, she trailed a single, razor sharp fingernail along and between the bumps of the revealed spine. So gentle the touch. She did love the Kitten’s back. Flawless. Perfect. Alive. She would give it the tiniest little flaw… just for a little while. Then she would enjoy the perfection more when it returned.

Tara shuddered at the touch. Willow knew that the tiny sting would almost be like a paper cut where the nail left a thin red line along the journey it had travelled, separating the absolute topmost layers of the skin, without coming close to drawing blood.

Willow knew that with a subtle application of pressure, the same slow caress would have torn the Kitten’s skin from her back. It was not a process with which she was unfamiliar. No other back had survived her touch. But this was the Kitten’s back… She could examine the Kitten’s spine and wear her flesh like a coat – all the while listening to her scream. But she wouldn’t do that.

Tara knew that as well as Willow did. And somehow it didn’t take the fun out of it for the vampire as she had always thought it might.

She could take hold of the Kitten’s head, she thought as she moved her caress to Tara’s ear, and rip it from her the neck in a single move. But she wouldn’t.

Tara knew that too.

She could, her mind told her as she lowered her head and lapped at Tara’s ear and then lower to draw her tongue along that thin red line, sink her teeth into the Kitten. Taste her tender, warm, pulsing flesh and drain her dry in a long series of delicious moments. But she wouldn’t.

Willow was aware that Tara knew all of that. And more.

Tara knew the dangers… and gave herself over to them. There was no thrill in doing that… it was just what she had to do to be with Willow. Not totally trusting, but caring even less. Willow could do anything she felt like and Tara couldn’t stop her – there was only one thing that Tara would flat out fight or refuse. But deep down inside she knew there was a knowledge that they shared.

The vampire wouldn’t do any of those things.

And neither would she. She wouldn’t do what was in her nature and roll over, stake in hand and dispatch the demon. Removing it from a world filled with altogether too many demons already. What difference would one more or less really make? She could rationalise it like that, even though she knew she shouldn’t. And wouldn’t.

“She was your age…. And blonde like you too,” Willow continued. She was stretched out now, fully clothed but for her boots, on the bed behind the Kitten. She caressed the naked woman’s hair as if to examine it and assure Tara of the similarities, moving her naked foot to draw the bottom of the duvet from the Kitten’s own bare foot. Touching there too.

“I d-don’t want to know,” Tara repeated. The woman of whom Willow spoke should still be alive. Would be if Tara had found the strength to do what she should have done… but wouldn’t some other vampire have got her anyway? Surely… a human out at night in Sunnydale. That woman was dead when the sun went down. Surely it didn’t matter that it was Willow? Not until all the vampires were gone.. all bar Willow. Surely until then it wouldn’t matter.

No. That was no real excuse.

“She smelled…” Willow inhaled. “She smelled like you too, Kitten.”

For some reason that got to Tara more than anything. That Willow had smelt the woman, had remembered her scent and compared it to her own. She knew that the vampire’s senses were all enhanced over the basic Mark 1 human and Willow could not help knowing the smell of the woman but somehow it seemed painfully intimate… it seemed the sort of thing that should just be between them.

“But she was already bleeding.”

Too much detail. Too much… had Willow selected the woman for the scent of her menstrual blood or had opportunity presented itself? Had Willow chosen someone who reminded her of her Kitten? Please not the last… Goddess if Willow was killing people just for the crime of looking like her… or acting out some repressed desire to kill Tara?

No…

“She-” Willow started but was cut off by the other.

“Tell me something else.” Tara did not usually interrupt Willow whilst she inflicted this upon her. It was her penance. She had allowed Willow to do what she did – shye had done nothing to prevent it. This was what she received in return – what Willow made sure she got. Though the vampire did it to play with her… it was really justice. But she knew it well enough already and couldn’t listen anymore. Not now. She needed to know that there was more to Willow than these words, these taunts. She wanted to know the old Willow too.

The human.

The Willow she had dreamt of loving, in whose shell this monster operated.

The real Willow.

A monster that was intrigued by her suggestion. “What?” Willow asked.

“Tell me about your life,” Tara asked still not looking at Willow, whose fingers were still in her hair. Their feet entwined.

“I was born and I died… bored now.” Life. It was not something that Willow looked back upon. It held no interest for her. It was so very much of the past.

“Tell me,” Tara insisted.

The strength was… once again interesting, Willow thought. “It’s so… It’s gone. What I was?” If the Kitten wanted to know then perhaps she could tell her some things… things that would show just how fortunate she was to know this new improved version.

“Who you w-were b-before,” Tara confirmed. “I know you remember.” Willow had shown that over and over. She knew everything about the old Willow. The real Willow.

Willow was aware that as a vampire she disgusted and fascinated the Kitten in almost equal measure and she enjoyed the tingly sensation the knowledge gave her. The bittersweet agony of the woman she could torment just by her very existence. Without having to lift a finger. But she also knew that the Kitten thought that she might be in love with her – even if Tara denied the word could even exist between them. The Kitten feared that it might be true.

Maybe the Kitten was in love. Willow didn’t know. It wasn’t something that she was desperate to find out. She had the Kitten. The rest was just words…

Willow was pragmatic enough though, to know that maybe she felt the same. But that didn’t mean anything. She was a blood sucking fiend… just look at her outfit. Love meant very little in that context. She could slaughter the Kitten any time she chose.

Any time at all. Now if she wanted.

Right now.

She licked at Tara’s exposed neck. Any time.

Whatever… though it wouldn’t get in the way of her playtime with the Kitten.

“It is all gone, you know that,” Willow wasn't sorry. She revelled in her power, her desires, her freedom and everything the living Willow Rosenberg had never been. It was her true self that existed now rather than the shadow imposed upon her by the pointless, taunting opinions of school children or the expectations and pressure of her family.

The Master expected her to be what she was…

“Is it?” Tara asked “All gone?” Hoping that Willow would lie to her… tell her that there was something human still within her. Not just the demon. Something that would explain how she could feel this way about a vampire. Something that would tell her that there was something she could do. Something that she could change that would bring the real Willow back to her… or just more of her.

In response Willow laid the flat of her hand on Tara’s back causing a shiver. She knew that she was cold and not just from the night air. She knew that was another thing that upset Tara. The cold of her touch. The lack of warmth – no matter how much tenderness she showed to, and for, the witch she would never be truly warm without the blood of another freshly flowing through her veins. Another death. That backpacker had faded so quickly… thin blood. She wasn’t hungry but the heat had gone so quickly. Local meat was best…

Tara could feel the chill hand sucking the heat from her flesh. Drawing her energy like a leech. “Tell me about you… tell me about her.” For it was another person, Tara knew that. “Tell me and we can play,” she promised sounding reluctant but needing that closeness, whatever the cost.

Tell me, Tara thought, and maybe I can pretend that it’s the other Willow, that is touching me. Even though some part of me doesn’t care. Even though as long as I am touched and… held in affection by some Willow… I don’t care.

Willow licked at Tara’s long exposed neck again. Smelling the blood even through the flesh, feeling the thrust of the beating pulse against her slowly moving tongue, slipping a hand under the edge of the duvet that was still drawn tightly over Tara’s chest – just her back and feet were exposed. Tweaking what she found there until the Kitten mewed for her. “We can play my way Kitten?” Her pinch was transformed into a soft, soothing caress.

We always do, Tara thought but told her tormentor yes anyway. Willow’s way… it was sexual. But it wasn’t affectionate… not at the time. After, before there might be some show of that. But during… it was fiery but it wasn’t warm. “Tell me something.”

“Then look at me Kitten while I tell you a story.”

Having felt the vampire sit up against the headboard, Tara reluctantly rolled over and allowed her eyes to fall on the pallid complexion that highlighted the features that she loved. What price some colour in those cheeks? The death of another innocent. But what would Willow tell her? What would the story be about?

“Once upon a time,”’ Willow said in a cruel parody of a fairy story with her hand roaming over the duvet that Tara still held against modestly against herself, “there was a girl. She was ‘nice.’” The way the vampire said the word revealed what she thought of that person better than a thousand words ever would. “She was so ‘nice’ that no one liked her. No one but…” Willow paused, smiled, then carried on. “She went to school every day and she tried her very… very best. Such a waste of a life.”

Tara looked up at the vampire who sat by her side, looking down into her eyes, and implored her to continue without uttering a word. “‘She loved to know things this girl, not because she was picked on and had nothing else but because knowledge was good. And she was good. Everything was so very, very good. Except her dress sense. Which sort of sucked. It was all fluffy and pink and cuddly and with animal pictures and ugghhh. Picked out by her mother.” Willow smiled again, remembering payback.

Willow paused and then ran a hand over her own chest, around the edge of her low neckline. “You think her mother would like this?”

Tara, despite herself, did… “Tell me,” Tara instructed, trying to sound in control but knowing that she actually begging.

Willow continued. “And each and every day the ‘popular girls’ would victimise her. They would taunt her about her clothes. Tell her that her beautiful long red hair was ‘sooo out of style that it had never been in.’” Willow allowed that hair to drop into the Kitten’s face as she leaned forward and impersonated the voice of those girls. “Tell her that her learning was just a cover for the fact that she had no friends, when in fact she loved the learning.”

“Poor Willow…” Tara breathed not wanting to interrupt but...

The vampire smiled at her once more. “Yes – but you see they were right. They hurt her… but they were right. She was boring. She was pink and fluffy and she was all alone. They were right and she had to die to find that out.”

“I wasn't feeling sorry for her,” Tara told the vampire.

That took Willow aback and she took her hands away from the Kitten entirely. “You pity me… for having been her?”

“No I pity you for losing what she had. A life. A chance for more. So she was picked on, did she care? Did she want what they had?” Tara asked wanting more details – not wanting to get sucked into a debate about pitying the vampire.

Willow fell for that ploy and went back to the story. “No she never did. It hurt her, but she never wanted to be like them. Vacuous tramps.” Willow was remembering now. “That was how she thought of them. Harmony, Cordelia and the rest.” She returned her attention to the Kitten, grasping the sheet and pulling it back away from the Kitten, exposing her. “I told the story. Play now.”

It hadn’t been a question but Tara nodded anyway and closed her eyes, briefly, once more. “Play now.” She opened them, preparing to absorb the sensations and saw Miss Kitty in her basket in the corner, listening to them and watching as Willow placed her hands on her. The little cat yawned and laid its head down once more.

Would that Willow have treated her like this? So badly… but how could something bad feel so good? The pain at her throat stopped as Willow lifted the pendant from around her neck, over her head and placed in its resting place on the lamp. And as usual Tara let her.

Her penance was over for the night. Now she knew that she was going to find herself appreciating every moment.

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You hear that baby? I am going nowhere.

[mtnlaurel]

Hey friend! Was it the fun color thing that helped?



Perhaps it is the mood I'm in or maybe it's your superb writing (leaning towards the latter), but as I finally caught up with my reading...this last chapter--amazing. My heart aches.



Ok, back to the last all-nighter of my college career!

[Katharyn]

Yeah it was the colour thing*S*



Thanks for that and the feedback... I assume you have exams tomorrow. Do well!



Katharyn

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You hear that baby? I am going nowhere.