Ship of Fools

Two years later….

“S U N N Y D A L E – Sunnydale,” Buffy leapt up, thrusting her pom-poms into the air, around her fellow cheerleaders were jumping up in a yell. They screeched together in a big huddle as the school’s football team charged out. Cordelia Chase blew a kiss at the captain, a brawny individual called Tom, who had managed to get into Harvard to study law. Cordelia claimed it wasn’t his brains she was interested in, Buffy believed her.

The team lined up and Buffy felt a rush of sorrow looking at them. She wondered how many would be alive in a year, more than would be alive in two she thought. It wasn’t that demons infested the night, though the number of unsolved murders and disappearances were much higher than a couple of years before, but that in act of kindness, the demons of the Gorgorth hell dimension had quickly offered a treaty to protect humanity from some of the more expansionist dimensions. Earth’s leaders had accepted the offer with alacrity, an immediate benefit for getting rid of the Watcher’s Council. The only downside was that it was a two-way defence treaty, within six months the Gorgorths had gone to war against another dimension. Humanity had honoured it’s word – only last week the US had to introduce selective conscription to meet its quota, following on from France, South Africa and Brazil. Some of those running out wouldn’t be able to dodge the draft and like many before them they’d find themselves in a soldier’s grave in some unpronounceable far-away place.

“Hey boys, score a touchdown for us,” there was a call from the stands. Buffy looked up at Dawn and her friend Janice, only sixteen and already with a reputation as the school bikes; man, woman, vegetable, Dawn and Janice had had them all. As if to confirm Buffy’s opinion of her sister, she and Janice lifted up their shirts and bared their naked tits at the team. There was a whoop of appreciation from the footballers, as Dawn and Janice quickly sat themselves down before Principal Snyder could see what the fuss was about.

A red-faced quarterback lifted his scaly head and gave a sharp teeth smile at the two flashers. Buffy shivered, she wasn’t attuned to demon, or rather non-human sentient, body language and wasn’t sure whether the smile indicated a desire to get into the girl’s pants or eat them with fries and ketchup; not wanting a demon for a brother-in-law, neither prospect was appealing.

The game was brutal and unskilled, Sunnydale High being narrowly beaten to settle themselves in a respectable, if not fantastic, middle of the table. Not that many of the audience were there to watch the footballers, since she was no longer a Slayer Buffy had thrown herself back into cheerleading. Despite various attempts by the Government they’d been unable to remove her Slayer skills, which even if it worried the Department for Non-Human Sentient Relations, was a boon for the Sunnydale High cheerleading team. The team trudged off the field and Buffy finished with her trademark splits, sitting with her legs parallel, on each hand balancing a tiptoe standing Harmony and Cordelia.

The crowd began to drift away and Buffy followed the other cheerleaders into the shower. It was always her favourite part of the game, she stripped off her gear and stepped into the shower with the other nubile young teens. Soapy suds trailed down the naked bodies, and Buffy deliberately spent time on washing her sensitive nipples as she gazed at them.

“Hey, you were good out there,” Buffy turned her head away from nude flesh in front of her and turned to her best friend. Willow was standing in the door way to the shower, making sure she stood far enough away from the water so as not to get more than a splash or two on her frumpy dress.

“Sure,” Buffy stepped out of the shower. Willow still remained as decidedly uncool as she’d ever been. Despite Buffy’s entreaties she never wore anything that showed off her figure to its best advantage, despite having as nice a body as half the cheerleading team.

“Pass me the towel,” Buffy said. She took the white cloth from Willow and began to dry herself off. She wondered if it was her imagination or was Willow taking a more than normal interest in her friend’s body – Buffy hoped it was the latter. She was still a virgin and didn’t want to leave High School in that state. She certainly didn’t fancy Willow, though she valued the redhead’s friendship, but she was getting to the stage where she wasn’t fussy. The others were spilling out of the shower, Willow continued to talk to Buffy, but now and then her eyes flicked to a choice bit of leg, tit or pussy which went on display.

Buffy pulled on her clothes and grinned, “Come on Will. Let’s go. See you later girls.”

*

Walking out of Wolfram and Hart building Lilah Morgan didn’t even know that she was in the cross hairs of a sniper’s sight. She barged a PA out of the way, the PA started to swear and then seeing who it was who pushed her thought better of it. Lilah ignored her, she might have done something if the woman had sworn, but then again she might not. The PA was one of the little people and the little people didn’t matter. She was an associate at the one place which had done well out of the end of the Watcher’s Council, virtually everyone else in the world deserved to be, and was, pushed out of her way.

Unfortunately for Lilah striding up the steps on a direct collision course with her was one of the few who couldn’t, her boss Holland Manners. Inwardly Lilah scowled, a jumped up pen-pusher incapable of making the hard decisions the job needed, she was already scheming on how she could get his job, preferably in a way which would be fatal to Mr Manners. Outwardly she just smiled, and made an obvious side step to let him pass.

The movement saved her life. There was the crack of a rifle shot, the sound echoing round the skyscrapers like a fusillade. Lilah felt the round skim through her jacket, ruining a very expensive designer suit. It took further irreparable damage as she and dozens of others threw themselves to the floor.

There were the yells of security guards as they poured out of the Wolfram and Hart building, pistols pointing uselessly at the sky. Lilah turned her head to look at them, and to time her dash so that she got maximum body cover from them. That’s when she saw Holland, the same bullet that had ruined her jacket had plugged him in the chest. He was trying vainly to hold the bubbling liquid in, a lung shot, thought Darla. Ah, well promotion beckoned.

*

In a skyscraper above Faith Lehane was already fleeing the scene. The high velocity rifle lay where she’d left it, her gloves would stop them tracing it to her. And who would expect a Slayer, even an ex-one, to be au fait with modern weaponry, anarchic swords were more the Slayer’s line. Even as she ran down the stairs, Faith was pulling off her gloves and spraying perfume to mask the scent of cordite, they wouldn’t catch her. They couldn’t.

*

Buffy always found it easy to tell when her Mom had a date, it was normally towards the end of the month when bills were due, she always told Buffy not to wait up and she wore the shortest skirt she could find, together with a blouse which was unbuttoned enough to show her paramour she was bra-less. Buffy brushed the smudge of lipstick of her cheek as her Mom drew back after giving her the normal goodbye kiss. She had felt a moment of warmth as her Mom had kissed her, another reason why she had to loose her virginity and soon. Not that her Mom wasn’t a very good-looking woman and with her tits almost spilling out, doubly so. It was just a bit weird getting turned on by your Mom’s goodbye kiss, but then Buffy reflected ruefully, as her Mom shut the door behind her, it was strange times they were living in.

Dawn was already out, probably being fucked by half the football team. Buffy looked in the mirror, she didn’t look bad, and a shower, a bit of lipstick and a change of clothes would make her look better.

Picking up the phone Buffy invited Willow over. Tonight was the night. She felt a surge of relief, she hadn’t noticed how keyed up she’d become until Willow had said she’d be over. Buffy would probably have wept in frustration if she said no. Looking at her watch Buffy felt a feeling of fear in her stomach, almost as bad as in years gone by when she’d stalked demons in the night. She didn’t have much time to get ready before Willow arrived and here she was, virtually drab, not seductive at all. In a panic Buffy rushed upstairs to ready herself.

It was ironic that after Buffy’s hasty preparations Willow turned out to be late. Buffy was sitting her legs drawn up artfully beneath her, so that a shapely thigh was on display and wondering whether to pour out the wine and chill a new bottle, when the doorbell rang.

“Come on in,” Buffy called, “the doors open.”

She felt a moment of terror, what if it wasn’t Willow, she’d forgotten to check – it might be one of the creepy FBI guys, wanting to check she was still on the straight and narrow or her Mom’s date, mixed up over where he was going to meet her. It was Willow though and Buffy gave a heartfelt sigh of relief.

Her friend’s brow creased, as she looked at Buffy in a short dress, cleavage exposed, her hair done up and with an inordinate amount of make-up on for a night at home, “Are we going out?” she asked.

Buffy gave a false laugh, as if Willow had cracked the funniest joke in the world, “No, I just threw a few things on. Have a drink,” she thrust a wine glass at Willow, trembling so much that spurts trickled over the edge.

Willow took the glass and took a seat opposite and to the side of Buffy, perfect if she was watching TV, but less so if Buffy was going to seduce her. With a start Buffy realised that her position, whilst sexy looking didn’t leave much room on the couch. She unhooked her legs and patted the seat next to her, “Why don’t you come and sit here.”

Willow shrugged and did as suggested. Buffy reached out and switched on the DVD she’d rented, “But I’m a Cheerleader”; it was well picked for a number of reasons – not least the central story was a romance between a geek and a cheerleader.

For a few minutes they sat and watched the DVD, until Buffy forced her hand up to stroke Willow’s long hair. Her friend turned to her, looking at Buffy as if she was mad.

“Has anyone told you how silky soft your hair is?” asked Buffy.

“My Mom,” replied Willow dryly, “Look Buffy are you trying to seduce me?”

Buffy dropped her hand as if Willow’s hair had caught fire and went deep red, mumbling something incomprehensible. Willow smiled and took hold off her friend’s hand, “Hey Buffy. Don’t worry about it. I can remember my first time.”

“You’re not a virgin,” Buffy went even redder, it was bad enough trying such a cack handed pass, but at least she’d thought Willow was as inexperienced as she was.

This time it was Willow’s time to go red, “Well, I had a brief fling with Cordelia. And er, one or two others”

“I thought you didn’t like each other.”

“It wasn’t a great meeting of kindred spirits,” Willow conceded, “The sex was good though.”

“Oh,” Buffy felt stupid, but Willow smiled at her and patted her hand in a friendly fashion, “Tell you what Buffy, I’ll set you up with someone, just give me a few days.”

“You will?” Buffy felt a surge of relief.

“Sure, what are friends for. Could you rewind? We’ve missed a bit.”

*

Climbing out of her car Joyce unbuttoned another button on her blouse. Leaning over she looked at her reflection in the wing mirror, there was another cleavage showing to please her ‘friend’. Reaching into her bag she pulled out her lipstick and touched up the red of her lips, smacking them together to get rid of the excess. Forcing a smile she walked up the driveway to the large house.

Truth be told Joyce never liked seeing vampires; they could be as charming as a lothario and as a cruel as a psychotic, and you never knew at any moment which side of their personality you were going to meet. But she needed the money, the mortgage was due and the clinic was baying for a payment. She’d never tell Buffy of course, but the teenager’s monthly trips to the research clinic, an attempt to cure her of her Slayer abilities, were purse-drainingly expensive. Buffy tolerated them, even though the scientists had made no headway – she thought it was something her Mom had decided on her own. It was another lie from Joyce, she could remember the letter coming through the door – from the UN’s Department for Non-Human Sentient Relations. Buffy would have to submit to the tests, to show her willingness to stop being a Slayer. The threat of what would happen if she didn’t was left unsaid.

Behind the door Joyce could hear the clang of the doorbell. She fidgeted nervously as she waited for the doors to open. They swung back, electrically operated and a maid in a short uniform stepped forward, “Mrs Summers,” the maid curtsied, “Please come in, the mistress will be down shortly.”

She led the blonde Milf through the house and into a room. A table set for two was the centrepiece, the silver cutlery shone in the light of the candle parked in the middle and an ice bucket sat ready prepared beside the table. That looked good – a charming dinner companion. However, what looked less good was the cane lying across the sofa and the ropes dangling down from the roof. Joyce forced a smile and turned to the maid, “Thank you.”

The maid didn’t reply, instead she left, closing the door quietly behind her. Joyce waited nervously. She undid another button so that her blouse was half open and her large tits almost bursting out. The couch was comfortable and expensive, as were the rest of the decorations, tasteful classical statues; old masters - either original or well done imitations, Joyce couldn’t tell which; hand crafted antique furniture bought from stately homes across Europe. If Joyce hadn’t been in such suspense she would have been heaven amongst so much artistic craftsmanship.

The door opened and in-stepped Darla. Like her room she was both beautiful and elegant, her smile radiant. She held out her hand and Joyce stood up to kiss it. It was only as the Milf looked up she saw the vampire’s eyes, the smile hadn’t reached them- they were cold like a serpent's.

“Will you sit?” Darla pulled out a chair. Gratefully Joyce sat down.

“Shall we eat?” without waiting for a reply Darla clapped her hands once. The echo hadn’t even had time to die away before the door opened and in scurried the maid who had greeted Joyce, followed by two others. A plate of almost raw steak was put in front of Darla with a curtsey, Joyce was glad to see her meat was more cooked and unlike the vampire’s was accompanied by vegetables. The third maid poured a white wine into Darla’s glass, before quickly filling Joyce’s. The Milf didn’t see the brand, but sucked her breath inward at the glimpse of the date 1909 – Darla didn’t stint on her cellar. The maid put the bottle in the ice bucket and wheeled it over beside Darla. Then with a final curtsey the three maids existed backwards and closed the door behind them.

Darla’s knife stabbed down into her steak and a jet of blood whizzed up to land back down on the plate with a splash, “Eat, drink and be merry,” she grinned wolfishly.

Nervously, knowing the end of the quote Joyce cut up her food. They ate in silence, Joyce aware that the vampire was regarding her like a cat looked at a mouse and she had to force the food to stay down. It tasted like sawdust and as soon as Darla had finished, Joyce gratefully put her knife and fork down on the half-finished meal and waited.

For a few minutes they stayed like that as Darla sipped at her wine, her mouth a cross between a sneer and a smile. Joyce’s hand gripped the stem of her glass, the liquid untouched, squeezing it so hard that with a little extra effort it would have snapped. Eventually the vampire finished her drink; she stood up and moved round to behind Joyce. She rested her hands on Joyce’s shoulders and held them, kneading at the flesh through the fabric.

“Such a nice pair,” one of Darla’s hands slipped off Joyce’s shoulder and made its way down into her blouse. The Milf stifled a squeak of pain as Darla’s sharp fingernails squeezed at the naked flesh of her tit. In the mirror opposite she could see the vampire smile and then squeeze harder. This time Joyce couldn’t stop the yelp of pain. The vampire let go and her smile got wider, this time it did reach her eyes, though Joyce didn’t think that this was a good thing.

“Take off your top,” the vampire instructed. Joyce complied, her hands shaking as she struggled to undo the buttons. Once they were all open she shrugged off the blouse and dropped it to the floor.

“Stand up,” Joyce did as she was told and turned to face the vampire. Darla stroked at her naked nipples, before taking one between her fingers and twisting it. Joyce bit her lip in pain, horrified by the excitement on the vampire’s face.

Darla let go, “Let’s see your cunt.”

Joyce undid her slacks and pulled them off, she knew that whoever she had been seeing this ultimately was what they were interested in and so she hadn’t wasted time encumbering herself with panties.

“Did you shave for me?” asked Darla. Joyce didn’t know what to say, yes would have been a lie, but no seemed a more dangerous option. She compromised by giving the vampire a shy smile and moving a hand down to spread her twat lips. The vampire grinned and slid a finger in. Joyce gave a small sound of joy as the vampire’s digit explored her hole, running across the warm flesh until she found the clit. Her nails scraped at it, causing both pain and pleasure in equal intensity. Darla pushed her finger harder against the bud, moving it around the jut of hard flesh until Joyce was red and wet. The Milf felt herself on an edge of an orgasm, the feelings welling up like a tidal wave behind a dam. Darla pulled out her finger and licked it clean, “That’s enough fun for you Joycie.”

The Milf bowed her head, she knew it was too good to be true. Darla was a sadist, not a lover.

“Come over here,” the vampire was standing by the ropes swinging from the ceiling. Joyce did as she was told, trying not to let her reluctance slow her steady walk.

She stood still as Darla wrapped the ropes round her titties, a far-away part of Joyce’s brain wondered if the vampire had ever been a scout, such was her speed and expertise at knots. The nearer part of her brain, however, cringed in pain as Darla pulled the rope tight, so that the end of the tits blossomed out, a bluish tinge as the blood struggled to get through.

“Up you go,” Darla pulled on a rope and Joyce felt herself being pulled upwards. She cried in pain, tits didn’t have roots, but if they did she would have felt they were being pulled out. Darla continued to tug at the rope until Joyce was on her tiptoes.

“Such a nice little cunt,” Darla reached forward and stroked the lips, “Just waiting to be whipped.” She reached over and picked up the cane from the table, flexing it between her hands.

Even before Darla laid it on her, Joyce was crying. Tears rolled down her face, like a waterfall, dropping from her chin to roll down her chest like the aftershot of a bukkaka orgy. The vampire just smiled evilly and brought the cane through the air, it swished and blast of cold air ran over Joyce as it fanned just beside her tits. Then Darla raised it again, this time the cane thrashed onto the Milf’s naked cunt lips and she cried in agony, it was as if an imp was running around with a blazing brand in her cunt. The vampire laughed and brought down the cane again. It landed with a crack, the blow so hard that it knocked Joyce backward. She scrabbled to find her feet again, the agony of being held up right by her tits mercifully eclipsing the pain on her cunt.

“Oh we’ve hardly started,” grinned Darla. She brought down the cane again, her smile broadening as Joyce screamed in agony. After about a dozen strokes Joyce’s cunt was numb, red lines criss-crossing it like a demented game of tic-tac-to. The vampire seemed to sense that her beating was no longer causing the desired amount of pain, as suddenly without warning she wrapped the cane over Joyce’s tits. There was a cry from the Milf, a pain wracked, sobbing scream. Through her tear-filled eyes she could see Darla’s face, flushed with enjoyment, smiling like a child in a candy store. The vampire’s whipped down again, the crack of the wooden cane on naked flesh startling in its noise. Each blow was artistically designed, carving a pattern of red weals through Joyce’s flesh. The Milf knew she wouldn’t be sunbathing for a bit, not if she didn’t want her daughters too see how she kept them fed and clothed. The vampire brought down the cane for one final blow. Sweat dripped, drenching Darla’s expensive evening dress so completely that Joyce could see the two erect nipples standing out against it, like deadly icebergs floating in a sea of darkness.

The vampire stepped back and rang her bell. A maid stepped in and curtsied, she didn’t bat an eye at the naked Milf swinging from the roof, “Untie her,” Darla pointed at Joyce, “and give her the check.”

Without another word she swept from the room, as the maid untied Joyce. The Milf dressed slowly, every movement remained painful. At least she would keep the roof over their heads for another month.

*

“Hey Captain,” detective Kate Lockley stood up and gestured the newcomer over. She still couldn’t get used to the fact the new head of precinct was vengeance demon. True the crime rate, at least that committed by humans, had dramatically shrunk, but even Kate felt that turning someone inside out for jumping a red light wasn’t a punishment fitting the crime.

Captain Anyanka stepped over the assorted debris of the alley and walked towards Kate. She looked too young to be in this business, Kate thought, and too delicate as the young woman twitched her nose at the odour coming from the body. Looks could be deceiving, Anyanka might look about eighteen, but she was nearer thirteen-hundred. The precinct was full of rumours about who she was and her history, but all they knew was that she had the ear of the D’Hoffyrn who in turn sat high up in the UN’s non-Human Sentients council. That was enough any of them needed to know to treat the demon with respect.

“Is he dead?” asked Anyanka. Aware that she was standing behind her captain, and that unlike some demons, she didn’t have eyes in the back of her head Kate rolled hers. Treating someone with respect wasn’t the same as actually respecting her.

“Yes Ma’am,” Kate said no more. The ribcage of the deceased was torn back, looking like a bloddy cage jutting from a ruined chest. If he wasn’t dead he was doing an award winning impression of a stiff.

“Do we know who he is?” Anya stood up and wiped her mouth, she looked green.

Fighting back an urge to smile at her captain’s discomfort, Kate opened the blood soaked wallet she’d taken off the corpse, “Says he’s Freddie Kimble on his ID,” she waited to see if the name meant anything to Anyanka. From the lack of expression on the demon’s face it didn’t so Kate continued, “He was one of the investigators on the Scarman enquiry. I saw an interview with him at the time, said it was a disgrace the way de… non-human Sentients had been treated for generations. According to his badge he’s now… was… in the Department for Non-Human Sentient Relations and I guess judging from the remains of that expensive suit he wasn’t their receptionist.”

There was no response from Anyanka as Kate waited for her boss to reply. Seeing that the demon was going to remain stubbornly silent, Kate gave a sigh and continued, “You don’t think this might be too big for us?”

This time Anyanka spoke, “No – nothing’s too big for us. A man was killed unlawfully and you’re going to find out who did it.”

At the sound of the word ‘you’re’ Kate felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She spent her life wading through the morass of human odour, like most humans she hated the thought of demon shit also dropping on her. She wanted to scream, too grab Anyanka by the throat and shake her whilst screaming abuse, instead she dropped the wallet back in the evidence bag and nodded, “I’ll be right on it.”