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The Slayer	By : norwalker Category: BtVS AU/AR > FemmeSlash - Female/Female Views: 19613 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 23
- 24
- 25
The Slayer
By Norwalker
Part 24 of a multipart story.
Summary: What if Faith came first? If she were the slayer before Buffy( if Buffy even became a slayer)? Just my take on what might have happened. AU, of course.
Pairings: Not sure yet. You might be surprised.
Rating: M( R )
Disclaimer: Characters depicted in this story, except for original characters created by the author, are the sole property of Mutant Enemy, Fox and Joss Whedon.

1

What a total snarky freaking BITCH!!!!
Cordelia looks down at the page of her journal, and smiles.
Who the hell does she think she is, anyway?
Her smile turns into a frown as her pen  draws circles around and arrows through a name she's written there.
Buffy! God, what kind of name is Buffy? Could there be a stupider name than Buffy?
Cordelia snickers, writing the words "Bitch" and "Stupid" repeatedly in her journal.
God, did you see the little smug look she had on her face? Like she was just waiting for me to lose it…
Buffy stands there, smirking at Cordelia, giving her the once over.
Spoiled rich bitch. Bet she thinks she's hot stuff. Whatta joke, Buffy thinks to herself, drinking in Cordelia's reaction to her challenge. C'mon, baby, get mad… I'd love to see how you try to put me in my place.
The reaction doesn't come from Cordelia.
"Buffy!" Joyce Summers, embarrassed, stands up. " That's very rude! Apologize right now."
Buffy rolls her eyes, and lets out a little sigh. God, mom, get a clue. Trying to … forget it.
"Mom, I was only kidding. Cordelia knows that, don't ya?" Buffy turns on her, beaming out a smile.
Cordelia's not the queen of Sunnydale high because she was born yesterday, or that she was born mental. She knows the smile is about as genuine as a crocodile's tears. Even behind the shades she's wearing… bet she's a druggie… Cordelia sees the challenge in Buffy's eyes. It's there with something else… something lurking in the background, something …disturbing.
"Yeah, sure, Buffy," Cordelia smiles a tight little smile. I'll just watch for my back for knives, though, if you don't mind. "A joke. Funny."
"Buffy, there's no excuse for being rude," Joyce insists, glaring at her daughter.
"Hey, sorry, ok? I was… it's been a hell of a day, you know?" Buffy shrugs. Her smirk becomes an actual smile, slightly self deprecating.
Oh, you're good. You're real good. Someone who was stupid might actually fall for that one, geek.
Despite herself, however, Cordelia feels a tiny little bit of the ice melt inside her. She can empathize as to a bad day. God, you got no clue as to bad days.
"I understand you're a cheerleader, Cordelia," Joyce smiles, turning to look at Cornell. "At least, that's what your father says." The abrupt change of subject is fooling no one. It's pretty clear she wants divert attention from her daughter's bad manners.
Ok, I'll play, Cordelia thinks.
"Yes, that's right. I'm captain of the Sunnydale high Razorback's cheerleading team." Or I was, anyway. She groans, thinking about tonight.
"Well, see honey?" Joyce addresses Buffy. "You girls have something in common. Buffy was a cheerleader at her old school too. Hemery high."
Yeah, the Hemery Harlots, I'm betting, Cordelia snickers to herself. No way she was on the Hemery squad!
"Really?" Cordelia arches a brow. "I would've thought you were on the pep squad," Cordelia gives Buffy the once over. "You just seem so… peppy."
Cordelia almost chortles when she sees Buffy's spine stiffen and her ears take on a pink tinge. She couldn't have insulted her better.
"Naw," Buffy's smile is frozen solid on her face. "Pep is for the losers. I was captain of the Hemery Glamazons. Maybe you heard of us?" Buffy locks eyes with Cordelia.
SHIT! Yeah I heard of you. 3 years state champs? Ok, now it's official. I hate your guts! You and your squad beat my girls twice!
"Wait a minute," Cordelia protests, "I was at the regionals last year. The captain of the Glamazons had red hair…"
"I dye my hair during season…" Buffy smirks. "Red is passion, Cordy. I'm all about the passion."
"Hold on, I know the name of the Captain of the Glamazons. It's Elizabeth… not …"
"I go by Buffy to my friends. Elizabeth Anne Summers… sound familiar?" Loser.
Cordelia feels her jaw tightening, and her head starts to ache. Oh, just swell. JUST GREAT! My bitterest rival, the bitch that beat me out two years in a row to take state champ in cheerleading, is here. Living HERE? This sucks. This totally SUCKS! How MUCH SUCKIER CAN MY LIFE GET?????
"So, you're captain of the Razorbacks, huh? You guys did pretty good last couple of years. Too bad we were just a little better."
"Hey, honey, I have a great idea," Cornell speaks up from the couch.
Don't, dad, don't EVEN go there… Cordelia stares over at her father. She shudders a little when she sees his expression. A smiling smugness, and more… something dark and… it makes her feel a little squicky.
"Buffy here is a cheerleader. Maybe you can get her on the Razorbacks," Cornell continues. "I mean, she seems she would be a valuable…"
"Sorry, dad. Auditions are way past over. Wouldn't be fair, you know." She looks at Buffy, smirking. "I'm sure you understand."
Oh, yeah, I get it, baby. You can't stand the heat, can ya?
"Cordelia. I'm sure you could…"
"It's ok, Mr. C, " Buffy speaks up, "I'm kinda retired, anyway. Got more important stuff to do…"
Joyce gets a pained expression, which Cordelia immediately picks up on. What's that about?
"Honey, you used to like cheerleading … a lot…" Joyce speaks up. God, I wish she'd do that again. Anything to keep her out of trouble here…
"Well, it's your choice, of course, Buffy," Cornell says, a slight chill in his voice.
Cordelia looks at him, and her stomach turns over. She knows that tone.
Damn, everything had to go crazy tonight! Didn’t it? I couldn't even get her the position of Hall monitor after tonight. But I can't let Daddy know what happened… he'll kill me…
Something vague and vile and dark flashes in Cordelia's brain. Something that makes her want to puke. She feels a shudder pass through her. … Or worse…
"I… I'll see what I can do…" Cordelia finds herself saying, almost wanting to bite her tongue as the words come out.  What the hell am I saying? "Uhhh… don't sweat it. We could use some talent on the team."  Am I crazy, or what? I'll be lucky if they don't laugh me off campus tomorrow…
"Thank you, dear," Cornell smiles. "I'm sure Buffy will be great on the team."
Cordelia looks over at Cornell, and the expression he has on her face, the way he looks at her, makes her suddenly feel weak . Weak and wanting to vomit.
"I… I think I'll go to bed… it's been a long night," Cordelia says. Anything to escape this crap… "It's been very nice meeting you, Mrs. Summers, " Cordelia turns to Joyce.  She turns to Buffy. "It's been… real, Buffy." Why do I want to smack her face? Oh, yeah, she's a bitch, that's right! "Goodnight, all." She turns to leave.
Her father's voice stops her in her tracks.
"Cordelia."
What!? God, leave me alone!
"Yes, daddy?" She turns, putting on a game face.
"Why don't you take Buffy up and show her where she'll be sleeping."
"Uhhh… because I don't know?"
"Being smart isn't very attractive, Cordelia Chase," Cornell's voice is stern. "She has the room next to yours."
"I… I really didn't know!" Cordelia gripes. "I wasn't here…" She sighs, seeing her father's stern visage. " Sorry. C'mon, I'll show you to your room."
Cordelia stands, waiting for the girl to get herself together.
Buffy walks over, and grabs a bag. She stops and gives her mom a kiss on the cheek.
"Night, mom. Seeya in the morning."
"Buffy, try to be nice, ok? For me?" Joyce whispers to her daughter, as she hugs her. "Goodnight dear, sleep well." She says out loud.
"Don't worry, mom. I'll wow her with my charm," Buffy whispers back. She breaks from the hug, and walks over to Cordelia. "Let's motor, girlfriend, things to see, people to do…"
Cordelia just glares at her for a moment.
"Oh, lighten up," Buffy says, sotto voce. "We're gonna be great friends, ya know?"
Wouldn't count on it, Blondie, Cordelia thinks, as she and Buffy head towards the stairs…
What a stupid brat! Oh, and man, even IF I could get her on the squad, no way I'm gonna try. I can just see her doing a power play on me. ME! Cordelia Chase! Yeah, I can trust that little slut as far as I can throw her! Hmmm… Maybe I could ask Faith to throw her. Off the roof of city hall. Heh. That'd be sweet… SPLAT. Heh. No way I'm going to reward that little… witch for being snarky to me. She'll learn not to mess with me!
Cordelia looks at the journal, and sighs. Her face falls.
Yeah, and how do you figure to do that? After tonight, what they know about you? They're going to crucify you at school tomorrow. You'll be nothing… less than nothing. By the time word gets around about me, I won't even be able to sit at the outsiders table. No one will want to be seen with me! My life is over! I'm 17, and it's OVER!
Damn that Harmony Kendall! I'm going to kill her when I see her! KILL HER, KILL HER, KILL HER!!!!  God, stupid much? How could I ever think she was my friend! The little backstabbing bitch!!!! Maybe you got me, baby, but I'm so gonna take you down!
Cordelia smiles evilly.  She leans over, and unlocking a drawer, flips through a few file folders. She picks out one marked Harmony.
Think I'm stupid, Harm? Think I didn't figure you'd try to take me down one day? Well, you got me, I'll give you your props. You got me. But it's not over, bimbette.
Cordelia flips through the file, her expression all business. No one is better at this than Cordelia Chase.
You embarrassed me. You maybe ruined my high school career. But you're sloppy, girl. You don't even know how to keep things secret. When I'm done with you, bitch…
Let's just say, I'd start packing now…
Putting the file away, locking the drawer, she looks down at her journal.
Hmmm… this new girl… Muffy… Cordelia snickers… she's a little bit of a problem. But I know there's something with that girl. I'll find out, and the bitch better not give me any trouble, or it's bye, bye, Buffy. I don't care what Daddy says.
She started it. Well, baby, I can so finish it!
She slams the journal closed, and puts it in its secret place.  Turning off the lamp, she gets up and starts to undress for bed.
It's been a long night, and she's achy tired. Tomorrow is another day, and she's going to be one busy little bee… or C…
She slips into bed, and snuggling down into the covers, reaches over to her nightstand.  She snags the little picture of Faith she has sitting there.  She brings it to her lips, kissing it. So glad I snagged this pic of her last time I was there… mmmm…
"Night, baby," She murmurs, replacing the picture.
She's asleep almost as soon as her head hits the pillow.

2

Next door, Buffy sits quietly in the dark.
The only light in the room is moonlight; it gives an eerie otherworldly effect to the scene.
Buffy is sitting cross legged on the bed, dressed in a wife beater and sweat pants, her usual sleepwear. The moonlight makes her hair seem almost white. Her eyes seem to glow strangely in the dark.
She chants quietly, her voice soft, taking on a sing-song quality. Almost as if in a dream, she reaches out, and gathers a black candle and lighter from the beside table.  Lighting the candle, she mumbles a few more phrases, then says  "Rivelare!"
Sparks seem to fly up from the candle, and start to dance in the air. They whirl and twirl, shooting this way and that. They finally settle on the blanket before her, into a rough map of Sunnydale, glowing coldly white. All except for one point, which glows a bright red.
Buffy's eyes narrow, and she smiles. It's a very unpleasant smile.
"Essere fatto!" She commands, dousing the candle with her fingertips.
She watches as the 'map' extinguishes itself, fading slowly from the scene.
Unfolding herself off the bed, she places the candle in a drawer, along with the lighter. She picks up a wickedly sharp dagger off the nightstand, and  stares at it. She begins to weave slowly, as if hypnotized by the blade. Her eyes droop and close, and her mouth opens. Her body sways faster, as if in ecstasy.
She raises the knife over her head, offering it to the powers that make her strong, that guide her forward. A shudder passes through her, and she moans softly.
Lowering the knife, she brings it back to eyelevel. She reaches out, and taps her finger on the tip. A droplet of blood appears.
Smiling with a far away look, she paints the blood over her brow, down her nose, across her lips and to her chin. She lowers the knife, and places it in the drawer with the candle and lighter.
She walks over to the window, and  opening it, leans out. She feels the cool night air blow against her face. She drinks it in, reveling in the night. Her time.
"Can you smell it, you bastard? My blood? Smell it and shake, you prick. I'm gonna get your dead ass… soon. Then we'll have fun… real fun…"
She pulls back, leaning on the window sill, staring out into the night.
She watches.  She waits.
And she plans.

3

Faith sits up suddenly in her bed, gasping.
What the fuck? She says, pushing the covers aside, and standing up. She walks to the window, almost as if drawn there. She stares out into the night.
She looks at the hand in the moonlight, staring at her index finger. It's throbbing, but there's no wound on it. Nothing at all.
I swear, I cut my finger… it feels like it… but… She stares at her finger. There's no wound there.  Ok, I'm going nuts now. This is crazy.
Still, she stands there, staring out into the night. Something… someone… seems to be calling out to her. But she can't make out any words, anything but the sense that someone is calling her.
Almost against her will, her hand slowly, hesitantly rises to her face. She touches her skin… and feels nothing. Her face is dry and clean
And what the fuck were you expecting to feel?
She smells something, however. Something tinny and like sucking on a penny…
Blood! I smell blood!
Feeling panic grip her guts, she rushes over and flips on the lights. She looks around, expecting to see…
NOTHING!
No blood, nothing. Everything is as it's supposed to be.
But I smelled it. It was strong…
She walks over, and looks into the mirror.  She looks at herself. No blood. She starts to check herself for wounds. Nothing! The smell of blood is still strong. She even checks intimately, to be sure nothing came a little early this month. Nothing. Nada. Zip, zero!
Standing there naked, she feels a shudder pass through her body. What the hell is going on here? Why do I smell blood?
And as suddenly as it came, the scent disappears. As if it were never there at all.
What the fuck is going on around here?
The hairs rise on the back of her neck. Suddenly, she feels very much not alone, and she slowly looks around, her heart pounding in her chest. Something like a breeze flows over her. She whirls to the window. It's closed tight.
Ok, I'm really hating this now…
Something clatters on the vanity, and she turns around.
Scrawled across the mirror, in her own lipstick reads.
Faith! Danger! Be careful!
"Awww… fuck me!" Faith mutters, feeling her heart almost pounding out of her chest. Grabbing a blanket off her bed, she quickly heads for the living room.
"I so fucking DON'T NEED THIS!"
She slams the door behind her.

4

"Xander!"
Giggling can be heard behind the front door to Willow's house. There's some whispered conversation, then more giggling, then laughter.
The door seems to burst open, and Willow and Xander are standing framed by the doorway, backlit by the moonlight. Xander is leaning in towards Willow, his hands running up and down her sides under her blouse.
Willow's hands are flying, trying to catch his, trying to push them away, and trying to get at him and pinch him silly for doing this. All the time she's laughing madly.
She's highly ticklish. Xander knows this. And despite any protests, they both love the game.
"Stop it, Xander!" Willow wiggles and giggles, body shaking as she slaps at Xander's arms and chest. " You're such a meanie. Stop it!"
"I can't!" Xander declares, redoubling his tickling. "I must tickle you! It's my fate, my destiny!" He chortles, tickling her mercilessly.
"You know what's going to happen if you don't stop!" Willow screams, pushing him away, but not too hard. "I'm so going to lose it!" Her face is red, and her eyes are tearing up from laughing. "Please, don't make me do it, Xander…"  She breaks away, running into the darkened house.
Xander follows her in, arms outstretched, fingers waggling.
"You know the only way to stop… THE MAD TICKLER!" He laughs an evil laugh.
Willow manages to stumble into the living room, still laughing, maybe more at Xander's silly threats, but still laughing. She manages to flip on a light, and turns as Xander  Frankenstein-walks into the living room.
"No, no, no, nooooo" Willow feigns fright, backing away from the Mad Tickler. She manages to stumble, and  falls on her butt, staring up asXander, with a lusty grin, approaches. She starts to kick out and flail around, trying to hold him off.
"There's no escape," Xander says in a spooky voice, "I've got you now!"
He lunges at her, and she lies on her back, squirming around and trying to slide away. Xander grabs her, and pulling up her blouse, tickles her relentlessly, causing a fresh gale of laughter from Willow.
"Stop it! Hee,heeee, heee… I mean it, Xander Lavelle Harris… hee hee hee, you know what'll happen if you don’t!" Willow is still trying to slide away, but Xander holds her to the ground, not giving an inch. " STOP! I'm going to pee. Hee hee  darn it STOP! I …hee hee hee  … you know I'll pee if you tickle me too much. Stop! Please… hee hee hee. Xander!"
Xander does stop, but it's not because Willow begged him. Looking down at Willow, looking so cute and helpless and sexy, his mood suddenly shifts.
Willow looks up, and seeing the love and desire light up his eyes, his suddenly serious expression, her laughter dies away.  She holds up her arms to him, and Xander pulls her into a deep, passionate kiss. They cling to each other, and wind up on the couch, kissing and groping each other.
"mmmm… so nice," Willow sighs softly when they take a breathing break. "Definitely loving the kissage," Willow starts kissing his neck.
"Oh yeah," Xander agrees, his hands wandering over Willow's back. "I gotta admit, this beats killing vampires any day." He leans over, and nibbles on her ear.
"That's for sure," She licks a long stroke down his neck. "Tasting Xander goodness, so much nicer than making with the staking…" She nibbles on his neck.
"I dunno, you were pretty wicked with the stake tonight," Xander grins, slipping his hand under her blouse. "the way you dusted that vamp was totally awesome!"
"Yeah, I guess," Willow says, not sounding all that enthused. "I still would've rather been here cuddling with you."
Willow, not liking the praise? Not possible!
"What's up, Will? Why the dire?"
"Did you see that back at the locker room? Did she even act like she was happy we were there? No, it was all about the vamps. Not even a thank you for showing up and helping! God, she is totally not getting how much we add to the team, you know?" Willow looks at Xander, exasperated.
Xander for his part doesn't look pleased.  "So, we're still there? That's what this is all about? You're still crushing on Faith?" Xander stands up. "Maybe I should go home now?"
"What? NO! Xander, no!" Willow asserts, "No crushing, I promise! God, after that skank shows up, thinking she's  in charge, and takes credit because she found the exit, well big whoop for her…"
"What're you talking about?" Xander is totally confused.
"Cordelia, of course."
"I'm not talking about Cordelia. I'm talking about Faith."
"I know that, Xander, I'm not dumb, you know. But I'm just telling you, no way. With the crushing. On Faith. Get it?"
"Er… not really, because suddenly you're talking about Cordelia."
Willow looks at him, and seeing the cluelessness, sighs.
"You really don't know, do you?"
"Know? I should know something? It's not in my job description."
"Sit down, I need to tell you something," Willow pats the sofa by her.
"I'm fine. I can hear from here."
"Xander? SIT!"
Xander sits. He crosses his arms over his chest and pouts a little, but he sits.
"Awww, don't get pouty," Willow slides over to him, putting her hand on his thigh. She starts rubbing it up and down his thigh. "Of course, you are cute when you're all pouty."
"You had something to say?" Xander says, sounding slightly out of sorts. All the while, he's very aware of what Willow's hand is doing.
"I need to tell you something, Xan, and I don't want you to get freaked or have a major wiggins, ok?"
"What're you trying to say?" Xander asks suspiciously.
"Just… well, you remember the night you got so mad at me?"
"Oh, you mean the night when you found the window more fascinating than me?"
"Xander! I did not, I was just…" She stops when she sees his expression. "Ok, I was bad, really bad. I'm sorry, ok?"
" 'K " Xander relents. "So, what about it?"
"Well, after you left, I was upset," Willow turns to him, "and I went back upstairs. I cried a lot, you know…" she fishes for a little sympathy.
"Hmmm"
"Anyway, not snooping, I just happened to look out the window…"
"Uh-HUH." Xander's not buying the not snooping part.
"… and I saw Cordelia at Faith's door…"
"So? What's the big about that?"
"It was near midnight, Xander, if you forgot. And she was naked!"
"Cordelia was NAKED? Standing there, in the buff?"
"Well, not standing there, no. But when Faith answered the door, she shrugged off her coat, and the only thing she was wearing was heels, a thong and a smile."
"Cordelia… naked."
"And then, Faith pulled her inside."
"She did?" Xander's voice has a sense of awe underlying it.
"Yeah, and I went over the next day, and I'm sure…"
"Did they like kiss?"
"What?"
"Kiss. Cordelia and Faith. Did they do a girl-girl kiss and make-out session?" Xander has that dreamy expression on his face. He's thinking about Cordelia and Faith kissing, and making out… and stuff.
"I don't know. I mean, they didn't kiss there… I guess they did…"
"And you didn't even take a picture to commemorate the moment!"
"Xander! God! I didn’t want  to think about it, much less spy on it. Geeze…"
"Sorry, I'm eighteen. You talk about nude girls, and girls with girls, and it does something to me…"
"I'm thinking you could be 70, Xander, and that would 'do something to you'," Willow has a slightly disgusted look on her face. "Anyway, that's not the point."
"Girl - Girl isn't the point?"
"Well, yes… no! I mean, they're both girls, yes, but the point is, they're together. Like a couple together. Like we're together."
"Ok," Xander thinks about it for a moment.  Then he snaps back to reality. "So?"
"So?! What do you mean, so?"
"I mean, what's the big?"
"The big is Cordelia is with Faith. You know, Cordelia? The Evil bitch of Sunnydale? Queen C? The same one that treats us like something stuck to the bottom of her shoe, that Cordelia? What the hell is that about? I mean, what could Faith see in her…?"
"That she doesn't see in you?" Again, Xander tightens up.
"NO! God, Xander, I told you there's nothing there!"
"Ok, but … I don't get it. Why the dire?"
"She's WITH Cordelia! The EVIL BITCH FROM HELL Cordelia! Doesn't that make you a little nuts?"
"Obviously, not like it's making you nuts, Will. Was that what the deal was at the locker room?"
"Geeze, sometimes I swear, Xander Harris. You carry a bowling ball around on your shoulders, rather than a head. Think, Xander. What the heck kind of influence is Cordelia going to have on Faith? Faith already treats us like we're little more than useless… if she's with Cordelia…"
"I don't see a difference, do you? I mean, sure, I don't want Cordelia mating with anyone. The thought of more Cordelia's running around…"Xander shudders. "But, that's not going to be a problem. Maybe they love each other… like we do… right?"
"Love? You can use the words Cordelia and love in the same sentence? That's beyond ick, Xander. And exactly what do think Cordelia will be saying about you and moi if she starts hanging around Faith a lot. Don't you think she'll be trashing us?"
"Will, I think you're being a little paranoid," Xander smiles, putting an arm around her, "And, maybe just a tad jealous?"
"Alexander Lavelle Harris! I told you, there's nothing like that between me and…"
"Shhh, I know," Xander puts a finger to her lips. "But you do have a tiny crush on her…"
"I so don't…"
"It's ok. I get it. Faith is… well, Faith, I have a tiny little crush on her…"
"HEY!"
"That doesn't mean, however, I love you any less," Xander quickly adds. God, watch it. She can go nuclear at the drop of a hat. "I'm just saying, I understand it, and I get how it could be, and I'm not jealous of it. I was only hurt because it seemed you were more about her than me, especially when we were being… well… you know…" Xander smiles. "I know you love me, and I love you love me, ok?"
"Well, ok," Willow says, pouting just the right amount,  "But I'm still not happy about Cordelia and Faith being together."
"Why not?"
"Well, it's … it's… WRONG!"
"Why?"
"Cordelia is evil. Do I need to remind you of that, mister? She told those bullies looking for you were to find you back in the fifth grade, remember?  She doesn't care about anyone but herself…"
"Then maybe Faith is exactly what she needs," Xander says, "And visa versa. You saw how our attempt at matchmaking went."
"I so didn't know Josh Logan was a total psycho!"
"Neither did I," Xander admits, "he seemed normal enough. But people fool you. And maybe, Cordelia fooled us, you know? Maybe she just needed the right person to come along and straighten her out. You gotta admit she hasn't been nearly as unpleasant, lately. "
"Yeah, I guess…"
"And Faith… don't you think she needs someone? I mean, besides us. We can do the friend thing, but she needs someone to cuddle with too, don't you think?"
"But does it have to be Cordelia Chase?"
"Evidently, it does. And I'm thinking, we just have to accept it, Will. Let her be with who she wants to be, and support her in it."
"Support her? Does that mean we have to be buddy-buddy with Cordelia?"
Xander shudders at the thought. "Hell no! But, we have to be polite, and we," Xander looks at her, obviously meaning she, "… have to be supportive of their relationship. We don't have to like it, but we have to give our nod of the ok, ok? That's what friends do… even when they think their friend has gone loony." He hugs her tightly. "If they're happy, we have to be happy for both of them."
"Darn! I mean, if you're going to be all logical and all…" Willow shakes her head, still trying to wrap her brain around the concept. "It's just so…crazy. It can't last."
"Will…" Xander's voice takes on a firm tone.
"Ok, ok, I'm on the team. I'll wave the pom-poms. Eeew… cheerleading metaphors, what's next?" She looks at him, and shrugs, but the admiration in her eyes is evident. "So, tell me, Xander, exactly when did you get to be so darn smart, anyway?"
"Smart, you think I'm smart?" Xander grins goofily. "Does that mean I can skip algebra?"
"You wish," Willow grins at him.  "Anyway, you know smart is the new sexy, right?" She leans in closer, her hand going higher on his thigh.
"Really?" Xander smiles broadly.
"Oh yeah," Willow almost exudes heat, pressing her breast into Xander's arm, her other hand starting to wander to other places. "Strong and smart… sooo sexy…" She nuzzles his neck.
"Oh… OH… Yeah…." Xander sighs, as Willow's hand finds his zipper, and starts to lower it, "gotta love the smart…"
"Shhh… you talk way too much…" Willow suddenly pushes him back on the sofa, straddling him. She starts to pop his buttons. "Hmmm… good thing my parents are out of town all weekend…" She giggles, running her soft hands over his chest. "So much Xander… so little time…"  She leans over, flicking her tongue over his nipple.
"Oh… god, Willow… love that…" Xander moans.
Willow waggles her butt over his crotch, feeling his rising interest.
"Hmmm, so I feel," She giggles. "Now shut up, and let me ravish you."
Xander thought that was the smartest thing Willow every said. He was definitely ready to be ravished.
And ravished. Oh, and ravished.
She's going to kill me,  Xander sighs, as he feels Willow kissing down his body, but damn I'm so ready to be killed!!!!

5

"Here we are, Joyce," Cornell says, opening the door to the bedroom and turning on the light. "I'm sorry I didn't have time to make it more presentable."
Joyce looks into the room, and gasps.
Inside is a huge king size canopy bed, draped with a lacy material. The carpeting was deep plush, and almost sinfully soft to the touch. In one corner stood a full armoire, open and ready for her clothing. Around the sides were a vanity, a large chest of drawers,  and a small table for writing and reading.
But the pièce de résistance is the sunken tub, set through a pair of French doors, overlooking the back garden. It's huge, almost Jacuzzi size, and she can see the water swirling in it.  Surrounding it on three sides is a shelf that from the looks of it contained about every shampoo, conditioner, body lotion and soap imaginable. The view is magnificent, the garden well groomed yet hinting a bit of the wild.
She  turns to Cornell, smiling. She lays a hand on his arm.
"It's gorgeous, Cornell. I'd hate to think what you would've done if you had more time to think about it."
"I'm happy you like it," Cornell leads her into the room, closing the door after. "It's yours for as long as you wish, Joyce. You and Buffy are welcome here for as long as you're in Sunnydale."
"That's really sweet, Corny,"  Joyce falls back on his old nickname, "But frankly, I couldn't impose. And after Buffy's little stunt this evening, I know we should look for a place…"
"Shhh. Don't Buffy was just being a teenager. Believe me, Cordelia has her moments… and they can be toxic," He laughs, reaching out and touching her arm.
Joyce feels as if an electric shock has gone through her body. She feels a little woozy, and very warm and comfortable.
"Still, I think it best…"
"You know I care very much for you, Joyce," Cornell moves closer, touching her face with his hand.
Joyce shudders, feeling a strong urge of carnal desire pass through her. She can't remember the last time she felt something this… powerful. God, not since college… not since Cornell and I…
"Joyce, are you all right? You seem… distracted."
"Huh? No, Corny, I'm fine… I'm fine…" Joyce tries to shake off the lust, but it just settles down low… causing her to become somewhat damp. "I just… need to…" without thinking, she goes to Cornell, throws her arms about him, and kisses him fervently.
Cornell holds her close, his hands wandering over her body. He's well aware of what's happening to her, seeing as he touched her libido and ramped it up 1000 times.  Each touch of his drives makes her more and more sexually charged. Who says you can't teach an old bitch new tricks, eh?
"Oh god, Cornell, I'm sorry… I don't know what came over me…" For a moment, Joyce tries to fight the lust overwhelming her body, her mind,  and her emotions. But it's a losing battle, and already her nipples are rock hard, and her pussy is leaking like a sieve.
"Don't, it's ok, Joyce. I feel it too…" Cornell thrusts against her, so she can feel his massive erection. She groans, and all is very much lost for her.
Ah, I wish I could stay and fully enjoy this,  Cornell chortles. But I'm afraid I have business elsewhere… still… doesn't mean at least part of me can't take care of the business in hand.
He glows briefly, and suddenly, there are two separate Cornell's standing there. One ripping the clothes off of Joyce, pushing her back toward the bed with her urgent cries of approval, and the other, watching the whole little drama, enjoying the show.
The second, and invisible to Joyce Cornell turns, and walks to the door, feeling everything his proxy is doing to Joyce. And, believe me, Joyce, he'll be very busy fucking your brains out tonight… and in the morning… and for a very, very long time. Hmmm… I could get used to that…
One problem down… and now, one very big problem to go.
He opens the door as his proxy comes for the first time that evening, to the screams of Joyce.
"But certainly, not for the last time," He chuckles, as he closes the door behind him.

6

"I am not at all pleased by tonight's performance."
Cornell Chase paces back and forth in his study, hands behind his back.
Sitting in one of the chairs fronting his desk, Spike acts less than concerned. He brushes an imaginary speck off his coat.
"Well, perhaps if you hadn't paired me with a loon as a mate, things would've gone more smoothly." Spike complains, drawing his pack of smokes out of his pocket.
"Please don't smoke in here," Cornell says with firm voice, "I don't allow smoking in my study."
Bleeding sod, Spike thinks, putting his smokes away.
"I have to admit, Aurelius didn't work out as expected. Very foolish for him to get killed. Especially by that whelp of a slayer. I still had plans for our ugly, bald headed vampire." Cornell approaches the desk. "But I guess we'll just have to adjust those plans."
"What's your beef with the bird, anyway? Not like she's coming for you, is she?"
"I really don't believe I have to explain myself to you, Mr. Spike. I'm paying you well enough to do your job without asking questions." Cornell sits behind his desk. "That is, provided you can do your job!"
"As I told you, mate, things were going just fine until your boy went bonkers and decided to ramp it up. We were supposed to go in, snatch the bitch, and bring her out. But he had to have his little drama, didn't he?"
"Yes, I suppose I can't really blame you for Aurelius' little peccadilloes, now can I?" Avery picks a letter opener off his desk, looking at it. He turns it in his palm.
"Well, there you go, then," Spike gets up, standing by the edge of the desk. "It's just one of those little things you can't control."
"I suppose that's so," Cornell taps the letter opener on his palm. Without warning, he throws the letter opener at Spike, so fast as to be practically invisible.
"BLOODY HELL!"
Cornell smiles as the letter opener he was holding is now sticking out of Spike's shoulder.
"Ooops. Well, there you go then," He mocks Spike, "It's just one of those things you can't control." He chuckles.
"You bloody wanker," Spike rips the letter opener out of his shoulder. His face is pale and deadly. He strides over to where Cornell is sitting. "I don't bleedin' care what you're paying me, you sod. I'll rip your neck off and drink your blood from your…"
"There, there, Mr. Spike, temper, temper," Cornell counsels him, quietly.
He presses a button on his desk, and speaks into the speaker. "Yes, do bring her in now."
"You pillock. When I'm done with you, the only thing you'll be speaking out is your arse!"
He grabs Cornell by the lapels, lifting him out of his chair. Just then, the door opens, and two security guards, with Drusilla between them, enter.
She seems to be in a device that looks like an old fashion yoke. One guard is on each end, leading her in. Otherwise, she is bound at her wrists by manacles, and at her ankles by cuffs.
"What in hell…"
"Now, Mr. Spike. I would suggest you reign in that temper of yours, and put me down. Gently."
"Spoike, these naughty boys seem to be playing a game I really don't love, pet." Drusilla looks even more strained, and a bit loopier, than usual. "Please, love, make them stop."
"What is going on here? How did you find her? How did you capture her?" His face goes somber. " Let her go, now or I'll …"
"What, Mr. Spike? Hurt me?" Suddenly, Cornell grabs the hand holding him, squeezing hard on the wrist bone. Spike yells, releasing him. He drops, bouncing on his toes. "I hardly think that'll be happening, Mr. Spike."
"It's Spike, you bleeding sod. Just Spike." Spike stands there, rubbing his wrist, staring at Cornell. "Who the hell are you?"
"Well, just Spike, I'm the one you're working for… at least, for now." Brushing himself off, he walks over to Drusilla. He pets her cheek, and strangely, she gets a distantly ecstatic look on her face. He turns to Spike.
"Do you like my little toy?" He pats the yoke around Drusilla's throat. "It's my own invention, you see. I designed it after… well, let me show you…"  He walks over, and opening a wooden box on the table, extracts a cigar. "Don't worry, I'm not going to light it up, not here, anyway." He opens a desk drawer and pulls out a cigar cutter. " The humble cigar cutter." He holds up the tip of the cigar, and puts the device over the end of the cigar. "It's very efficient, even if it performs only one job." He squeezes the base, and the tip of the cigar is neatly cut off. "Ahhh. A perfect cut. You see?" He grins, walking over and standing next to Spike. "Now, you see, the device around your paramour's neck is very similar to the cigar cutter. The blades are much sharper of course, having to go through bone and cartilage, but all in all, same principal."
"You … bugger this," He almost flies over, ready to attack one of the guards.
"Uh-uh, my impetuous fellow. That simply won't do. I've added a little twist to my invention. The thing keeping the blade open is the tension on the handles. If one of my boys lets go, oh, say because you kill them…"
The guards, looking at Spike, blanch.
"…I fear the device will trigger, and poor little Drusilla's neck will be cut clean through. Rather fatal, one way or another. Wouldn't you say?"
"Spoike, I really am tired of this game. My neck hurts, and these men are being rather mean," Drusilla frowns, remembering the cutting of the cigar. "Could we play something else now?" She holds up her manacled wrists in supplication.
Spike looks at Dru, then at the device, then at Cornell. If looks could kill, Cornell would be a cinder. He's vamped out, and his wrists are slowly opening and closing in frustration.
"What do you want?" Spike's tone is low, cold and clipped.
"People keep asking me that, and it's all so very simple." He shrugs.
He walks over to Spike, and with each step, he seems to grow larger.
Drusilla's and Spike's eyes grow larger. The guards grow paler.
He reaches out, and grabbing Spike, lifts him bodily into the air. He shakes him like a rag doll.
"I want you to do your job properly," Cornell almost roars this out. "Is that SO MUCH TO ASK?!?!"
He flings Spike against the closest wall. Spike slides down it, stunned.
"Take the female out of here!" Cornell, red with rage, orders the guards.
They don't need a second prompt. They quickly usher Drusilla, and themselves, out.
Spike, recovering, quickly scrambles to his feet. He is immediately knocked back down, even though nothing touches him. He attempts yet again to rise, but is held fast.
"Stay down, vampire! I'm not done talking with you yet." Cornell's voice has deepened, sounding harsh and low and  beyond menacing. "You think I'm a fool? I know you very well encouraged Aurelius … goaded might be a better term… into last night's little stunt. I am very, very upset with you, vampire. I should tear you limb from limb…"
Spike screams in agony. It feels as if his body is being ripped apart. The pain is beyond bearable. His nerves feel as if they are being stripped and burned with hot fire. He feels his consciousness whirling around, falling into a black pit.
As suddenly as it came, the pain is gone. He is left panting, crouching on the floor, checking to see if his body is indeed whole.
"That is just a sample of what I can do to you, you insignificant parasite. I could torture you for decades, without breaking a sweat. So, don't EVER think of defying me again. Am I clear, blood sucker?"
"Yes, god yes," Spike says, still checking himself. "Just please, don't ever do that again…" He looks at Cornell with a cowering respect.
"Good, you learn quickly. Perhaps there is hope for you yet, vampire."
Spike grabs his head suddenly, a spike of pure white hot agony ripping through his brain.
"W-Why did y-you do that?" Spike asks when the pain ceases.
"Just a reminder. I can do it anytime, from anywhere. So, you'll be extra careful not to displease me. Isn't that so?"
"Y-Yes…" Spike mutters, the aftermath of the pain still pounding his head.
"Very good, very good indeed," Cornell is suddenly at his side, helping him up. "I'm so glad we could come to an understanding." He supports Spike, and half carries him back to the chair in front of his desk.
Spike sits there, half dazed, glaring at Cornell.
Cornell rounds his desk, and sitting down, puts his feet up on his desk.
"Now then, Spike, I have something else for you to do." He lowers his feet, and opening a drawer, pulls out a folder. He opens it, takes out a few pictures, and fans them across the desk.
Spike doesn't move. He just continues to glare.
"Rest time is over, Spike," Cornell says , almost jovially. "You don't need another reminder… do you?"
Spike is suddenly up and leaning forward in the chair.
"Ah good, that's what I like to see. Enthusiasm. Very commendable." He points at the picture on the far left. "Now, this man is your next assignment. I don't want any slip ups, Spike. It's important that this is done properly." He looks at Spike mildly, but there is steel in his gaze. "You do understand, yes?"
"Right, got it. Done properly. No worries," Spike says, looking at the picture. "Who is it?"
"It doesn't matter, does it? You don't need to know who it is, just that I want it done. Isn't that so?"
" Oh, right. Absolutely."
"Good. Now, I don't want it done immediately… I'll let you know when it's to be done."  Cornell pushes out another picture. "I'm sure you recognize this fellow…"
Spike looks at the picture, and his face hardens. He looks up at Cornell.
"Angelus. What about him?"
"Just, that I have very specific directions how you're to kill our victim. You see, I want our friend here…" he points at Angelus' picture, "…to be blamed for it. Do you understand?"
Spike gets a wicked smile on his face. "Oh, that'll be just fine. I'd love to take Angelus down a notch or sixteen…" For a moment, he's tempted to spit on the picture of Angelus. He restrains himself.
Cornell notes Spike's reaction, and smiles smugly. I see there is no love lost between these two. Interesting. "Very good, I love to see a dedication to one's profession, so to speak. Anyway, if you do your job correctly, this time, it will set off a chain of events that will lead to the destruction of this one…" He points at a picture of Faith. "And it's very important that this one is destroyed…"
Spike looks at the picture of Faith, recognizing her from the evening. Wouldn't mind ripping her throat out myself…
"I don’t get it, Mr. Chase. Why don't you just kill her yourself. It's fairly obvious you could."
"You're right, you don't 'get it' as you say," Cornell says in a weary voice. "If I could, I would just destroy her without a second thought. But for my plans to come to fruition, I can't have a direct hand in her murder. It must be done in a certain way…"
The … whatever he is, he's a loon. Completely bonkers, I'd say.
"Have it your own way, mate. Just seems like a lot of fuss for nothing. I could kill her for you, you know…"
"As I said, for my plans to work out, I need it done in a very specific way. And I get rather cranky when my plans don't work out, Spike." Cornell glares at him, and Spike groans, grabbing his head. "So, don't get any ideas of adding her scalp to your collection. She's mine and mine alone. Understood?"
"Yesss…" Spike shakes his head, trying to clear it. "I'm not stupid. I wish you'd stop doing that, goddamn it."
Cornell leans back in his chair, and smiles.
"Now, now Spike. I'm just being certain that things are crystal clear between us…" Cornell cocks his head to the side. "… and if you do your part well in our little drama, I'll have a nice little bonus for you…"
"A bonus?" Spike's greed perks up.
"Yes indeed. Something I'm sure you'll enjoy." He runs his tongue over his lips.
"Have you ever heard of the Gem of Amara?"

To be continued
- 23
- 24
- 25
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The Slayer