Author: Rosemary
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimers: Not mine. They're Joss Whedon's.
Feedback: Okay. a.nunn@att.net This is my first story ever. I would be happy to get any tips or let me know how I can improve or just say 'Stop writing. There's no hope for you'.

Willow was the first to push into the other woman and Tara followed slowly behind. She teased Willow momentarily and then she to was inside. Tara pushed and jerked, first slowly then quickly then slowly again, creating an orgasm for Willow that would be earth shattering. Willow let out a pleasured groan and began to thrust up into Tara's rapid pumping fingers.

So this is fucking... I like it. Really like it... Fucking was fucking good.

Tara was pushing into her even harder and a slight bit faster. Willow's body flew up into Tara's rapidly thrusting fingers. Chasing them with her sex, then running away. Chasing, running, chasing, running.

Tara worked her with such incredible force, speed and skill that she was going to cum already. This had never happened. Not this quickly. It was an epiphany. She felt that Tara deserved to know just how much she appriciated her talents... "Ohhh God, ohh Tara, I'm oh yeah. Make it last baby, please. Ohh, there, right there you found it baby, oh yes there's, where it is. There with you... you, you're doing it baby, you're making me cum... God ohhh ohh OH GOD YES I, Oh cumming, I'm... I am... OHH TARA FUCK, FUCK, YES AUGG!"

Willow shattered into a million pieces and took no time to recover before she had Tara on her back and began to fuck with everything she had. This was lust and love. This was the single most incredible thing she had ever felt in her life.

She didn't know what was better, the fucking or the being fucked. Maybe it was the same pleasure. Maybe this, this, returning of the fucking was just the final stage of an orgasm that had not yet worked its way to completion. She was learning a pleasure that in her wildest dreams would have never thought possible. She stared into her lover's face, unable to remove her eyes from the sight of Tara as she was beginning to come apart. "I'm gonna do this to you Tara. I'm going to do this to you like you did it to me. I'm going to do this to you over and over and over for the rest of my life. You want me to don't you? Tara you want this as much as I want to give it to you don't you? Tell me. It's always better when you say it. Tell me it's only me. Tell me I'm everything to you. Tell me I'm yours. Tell me how you want me baby, if you tell me I'll come with you please."

"I want you Willow. You're the only one, I'll never leave you I won't, never. You can take me forever. Take me Willow." Willow was inside Tara as deep as she could be and Tara was going to cum. She saw it in her face and she felt it with her fingers. She was glistening from the sweat that poured from her body and then....

Willow woke with a gasp. Her breathing erratic, her body tingling. She sat for a minute and then she lay back down on her bed. She stared up at the ceiling. Tears made their way out of her eyes and down her cheeks. She hugged her pillow close, wishing that see could work magic and bring her Tara to her. Magic, ha, ridiculous. God, this must be what it feels like to be dying.

Willow knew she had a tremendous amount of work ahead of her.The work would be all the more difficult due to the fact she had to work in secrecy. If she made even one error she new she would be putting Tara and Abby in mortal danger. She was sitting at her desk making a list of some of the things she would need to do. Racking her brain for ideas of how to start the process of investigation. She heard a knock on the door and when she opened it she saw Anya standing there.

"Hey Anya. What are you doing here?"

"Coming to ask you the same thing," she answered.

"Oh, well I told Giles I needed to take care of some stuff from home so, here I am. Please come in."

"Is this about the death row case?" Anya asked.

"No, no, its something different," she said. She had decided that the less people knew, the safer they and Tara and Abby would be.

"So why are you so tense? You look like hell," Anya asked.

"I don't know. I didn't get much sleep last night," she answered. "Oh, and thanks again for letting me use your car."

"Sure, anytime."

Anya walked a little bit farther into the room and sat on the middle of the floor. "Come here Willow." She patted the ground next to her.

"Why?" Willow asked suspiciously.

"I'm going to show you how to relax. Just sit."

Willow went against her better judgment and followed Anya's instructions.

"Good. Now. Cross your legs and make two okay signs with your hands."

"What are we doing here Anya. I'm really sort of busy now."

"Just do it Willow. I promise it will help."

"Alright, fine."

"Okay now turn your hands palm side up and rest your upper arms on you knees."

Willow complied, just wanting to get it over with.

"Now move your hands like your playing an accordion but slowly."

"Anya please this is..."

"Oh come on Willow. Just do it. Now pick up your accordion and start again," Anya went on. "Now close your eyes and think about something nice like Brad Pitt or... oh sorry, no, wait, Angelina Jolie for you. Okay, is she there?"

"Um nooo... I don't think..."

"Alright now keep playing and sway side to side just a bit. Okay?"

Willow sighed and went along, knowing the sooner this was over with the better.

"Find your circle, find your circle," Anya chanted.

Willow felt like an idiot.

"Okay now you say it."

"No I wont say that. It's stupid."

"Pleaseee. Come on Willow."

Willow sighed. "'Find your circle, find your circle'," Willow said without enthusiasm or cadence.

"Good but needs to be just a touch more chanty."

"Don't push your luck Anya."

"Fine, whatever. Now lose the accordion and put your arms out all the way sideways like this."

Willow imitated the woman and stretched her arms out..

"Now repeat after me."

Willow looked at Anya and saw that she had started flapping her arms back and forth.

"I'm a butterfly, I'm a butterfly, I'm a butterfly, I'm a butter..."

"That's it. Get out Anya. Leave my house."

"Jeez you're grumpy..."

Anya smiled and stood up. "Will you be in tomorrow?" she asked

"Yes, I'll be in."

"Okay," Anya smiled, "bye."

"Hey there Donny. Ya get me that address?"

...

"Yep, alright then, let me get a pen."

...

"Alright, yep, yep got it. I'm gonna go ahead and send them boys on down there then."

...

"What was the name you got off them plates? Anya Jenkins. Yeah, aright then."

The Guard hung up his cell phone and then typed in a number. "Yeah I got a job for ya"

Anya returned home after stopping by to see Willow. She was concerned for Willow. She had never seen her in this state before. She knew the woman loved her job. She had admired her work ethic and on occasion had even envied it. She was a natural. What was bothering her more was that she felt Willow was not just in a funk over a case but sensed that it was something more than that. She would talk to Giles about this in the morning. She knew she was betraying a confidence, but she knew also that if it were her, Willow would do the same. She pulled into her driveway and got out of her car and searched her keychain for the right key. She entered her apartment and headed for the bathroom. It was a long day and she just wanted to take a long bath and get to bed. She went to the tub and turned on the faucets. She began to unbutton her blouse when someone grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth. She was taken to the kitchen and placed in a chair at her dining room table. There were two men now, and one had a gun pointed to her head, her heart was pounding in her chest. She was gagged and one man walked to the table and unloaded the contents of a paper bag. Inside it was a small bottle of what looked like pills and a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey. The man then walked over to Anya's desk and picked up a pen and a writing tablet.

He sat down in a chair in front of her and said, "You're going to do everything I say alright? Now tell me where you keep your drinking glasses." She was terrified and she lifted a shaky hand and pointed to a cupboard next to the microwave. The second man walked over and retrieved a glass and brought it over to the table. He then instructed her to open the bottle of whiskey. She complied and was then told take the bottle and pour a glass. She did as told.

"Alright, good girl. Now I need you to write a letter."

"Well isn't this the pot calling the kettle black," Willow said aloud to herself. She had been at work for nearly three hours and Anya was yet to come in. She picked up her coffee cup and took a swig. She was instantly sorry for that, cause the coffee in the coffee cup was actually milk. Warm, sitting around for God knows how many days milk.

She spat the contains back into the cup and turned it around. Masking tape... Andrew. Well that's it, now she was pissed. He was famous for this. Leaving things sitting around. Food and drink things. She set the cup down and headed for Giles's office to confront him. She came to the door and knocked. Andrew answered and Willow started in.

"Andrew, why can you never clean up after yourself? I was just nearly poisoned by your..." She stopped. She looked up and Andrew was just standing there, not a word not moving and, oh God, he was or had been crying. She looked around and saw Giles sitting at his desk with a look that ment only one thing. Her mind raced, Tara, something happened toTara. No, no, that's not it. They would have no reason to be upset by that.

"What, what is it?" Willow said.

"Willow please sit down. There's something I need to tell you. It's a... It's bad news."

"What, come on just tell me." Willow said

"It's Anya."

Willow arrived at Anya's apartment and lifted the the yellow crime scene tape and stepped underneath. She looked around for a moment and then she saw her. She was face down on her kitchen table, surrounded by police and forensic officers. Her hand immediately raised to her mouth as she felt the contents of her stomach working their way up.

She dashed outside thinking Anya would be very upset if she were to hurl on her carpet. The thought confused her.

She didn't need to worry about that now, did she. "Oh God, Anya," Willow said.

She leaned up against the entry wall of Anya's apartment and slowly slid down. Her friend, her funny, quirky, love of life friend. Dead. She put her head in her hands and began to sob. The officers inside turned around when they heard the crying and one of them approached her.

"Miss, can I help you?" he asked.

Willow looked up at him, shook her head and said, "No."

"Are you a friend?"

"Yes, a friend and colleague," she answered.

"Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?"

"No that's fine. But first how did this... What happened?"

"Well apparently Miss Jenkins committed suicide with a mixture of over the counter sleepaids and whiskey," he answered

"No, no no, no way. She wouldn't... Never," Willow answered.

"Well she left a note over there and so far it seems pretty solid that this is indeed what happened. We're having it sent to a handwriting expert to match it. She wrote in there about knowing that she was going to be caught and not wanting to go to jail. Something about extorting money from clients. There's a bankbook over there and it's got some pretty hefty deposits in it. We're cross referencing them all of course, but it seems pretty cut and dried."

"No," she said, "you're wrong. She didn't, wouldn't not, ever..."

"Well I hope you're right, but right now it's what we have. I'm sorry for your loss," the officer said.

Willow drove home in a daze. She couldn't believe it. This was wrong. Totally and completely wrong. She couldn't think of a single solitary reason her friend would do this.

Then it hit her. "Oh no, this is my fault."

The realization hit Willow so hard she had to pull over. "It's them. They did this. It has to be."

But why? How? She had nothing to do with this. Nothing at all.

Wait, her car. I drove her car to the prison. They thought she was me. They killed her because they thought she was me. I gotta go to the police. I have to tell them. No, I can't. If I do that they'll kill Abby and Tara. Oh God. What am I gonna do?

She reached into her pocket and took out her cell phone.

"Buffy? It's Willow. I need to talk to you. Someplace other than there."

He sat and watched the little girl as she concentrated on the picture she was drawing.

She stopped for a minute, set her crayon down and tucked a strand of long blond hair behind her ear .She scooted a bit in her chair trying to find the most comfortable position .

She picked up her crayon and returned her focus to her drawing. She was a beautiful little girl. Big blue eyes and long blond hair. She was funny and smart and she loved to tell him knock-knock jokes. They would do it for hours on end at times.

"Mr. Bill?" she said.

"Yeah Lil' Ab?" he answered.

"When you going to bringed Spooky again?" she asked.

The man chuckled a bit and answered, "First of all, little bit, it's 'bring', and second of all he was just here yesterday."

"Yeah I know, but I still didn't get to finish teachin' him his alphabet." She stopped drawing, looked up pointed her crayon at him and said, "We only are on 'g'," and nodded matter-of-factly.

She loved to play with Spooky. He was a Red Lored Amazon Parrot who had exceptional talking skills. He'd had the parrot for a good five years. It used to be that Spooky would only let him pick him up or give him scritches but Abby had stolen his heart away. Now, if they were all there together, he went directly to her, would climb up her shirt and perch himself directly on her shoulder. There he would stay till it was time to leave, getting his fill of scritches and alphabet lessons. All he would get is a growl, and sometimes bitten, when it was time to go and he tried to retrieve him from her shoulder.

He smiled at her and then shook his head and laughed. "Right then, I guess we can't very well have him running about only knowing half the alphabet now can we?"

"You're silly," she giggled. "That's a whole lot less then half," she said making a wide circle motion with her arms to indicate just how much more then half was left.

"How's it you're so smart at only four years old? Knowing the whole alphabet is something most people don't learn 'til they're at least six," he asked.

She looked up smiling at him nodding her head in agreement and said, "I know, but my mama taught it to me when I was a really little baby." Opening her eyes wide on the word really to drive her point home of just how long ago it was.

He looked at the little bit of a thing that sat in the chair talking and drawing, even smiling.

He'd been lucky so far today.She hadn't asked the question of her mom's whereabouts. He knew that she would eventually. She always did. Every single time for the last eight months.

"Mr. Bill, is Christmas gone yet?" she asked.

This was a new question. He thought for a second. The truth was it had. It had come and gone two months ago. She had no way of knowing that though. The only thing she had seen in the last eight months was this room. Not even a room really. Just a basement with a bathroom. No windows, no bed, no kitchen. Nothing. The only people she saw were various people who came to make sure she stayed put. Their job, if the call came, to kill her.

He bent over in his chair, hands folded, arms resting on his legs and stared at the ground for a minute.

His decision made as to how to answer the question, he looked up. "No," he lied, "if Christmas had come Santa would have been here right?"

"Ooh yeah," she said, "that's right." A smile on her face, her little eyes lighting up as her feet swung back and forth under the little plastic table she sat at. She looked at him and asked, "Do you have Christmas in England?"

"Well of course. They have Christmas everywhere."

"And Santa?" she added.

"Yes, and Santa. You know what? Funny you bring it up because I was just going to tell you, Christmas is tomorrow."

"Huhh," she let out an excited gasp. "Really?"

"Yep, and I bet Santa's gonna bring you a really great present," he said. "What would you like Santa to bring you?"

She looked up at him, a sad expression on her face, and said, "My mama," as a single tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek.

Spike looked at her, his head tilted sideways then down, one hand rubbing his eyes, and said under his breath, "Bloody hell. This has to end."