"--Then the little mini-Napoleon man went and gave me detention, when it wasn't my fault, in any way whatsoever, that Ms. Landis found a box of live mice in the supply closet when she went looking for copier toner," Trent was saying as he drove her home. Harmony arched an eyebrow at him, even as she reached up to fiddle with the rear-view mirror.

"How is it not your fault?" she asked. "Weren't you the one who put them in there?" He gave a dismissive sort of shrug.

"Well, yeah."

She turned the mirror so that she could see her face reflected there, made a pleased sound, and then began scrutinizing her reflection carefully.

"Isn't that pretty much the definition of 'your fault', then?"

Trent flipped on the turn signal, frowned at the mirror she'd commandeered, and glanced quickly over his shoulder to make sure it was clear before he made the turn onto Parkmore drive.

"Nope," he answered a moment later. "Because the copier toner isn't even in that closet. Any pain, suffering, or soiled underwear that woman suffered, I say she brought it on herself. "

Even occupied as she was with admiring her face in the mirror, Harmony had to laugh. She looked over, saw Trent grinning, and shook her head as she pulled the cosmetics bag out of her backpack.

"And the reason the mice were in there in the first place?" she asked. He watched as she spread various items out atop the largish books resting on her lap, selected a nice powder blush and soft brush, and began repairing tiny, mostly imaginary flaws in her makeup.

"It's the Underground Railroad," he said, with a determinedly composed expression. "That closet was just a way station for those mice on the long road to freedom... or at least the long road to the park across the street, whichever ended up being closer." Brush poised in mid-air, she shot him a look, and he ducked his head . "And also--Fawn asked me to do it. Those were the mice that were going to get fed to the snakes in the biology lab, and she begged me to rescue them."

Harmony smiled, and continued brushing on a carefully-measured layer of powder, blending it in with effortless skill.

"That's sweet. Somehow I didn't take you for the hero type."

Trent gave a small, resigned sigh.

"This hero would much rather have gotten away with it, instead of getting caught. It was kind of impossible to be stealthy, though, trying to grab the little buggers and get outside, when everyone on the floor came running to see what Ms. Landis was screaming about."

"Did you get them out? Or are you going to have to explain to Fawn that the cute, helpless, fluffy little things got served up to the nasty, evil snakes for dinner?" She turned her face from side to side, surveying the results of her new and improved skills. It wasn't easy to tell, given the small mirror and the motion of the car, but it looked pretty amazing. She looked amazing... and the awesome part was that she could rely on that being the normal state of affairs from now on.

"No, no sacrifices to the snake gods today; the mice were saved." He braked for a traffic light, glanced up to check the rear-view, and frowned again. When they'd come to a stop he pointedly cleared his throat. She looked over at him, puzzled, and Trent reached across to pull down the sun visor on her side. "You know, you do have a mirror of your very own, right here."

Harmony flipped the little panel down, found the larger mirror there, and adjusted it so that she could see herself.

"Oooh, perfect!" Her hand intercepted his as he tried to reposition the rear-view, and she glanced back and forth from mirror to mirror, taking in the two views of the exquisite beauty reflected there. Just as she'd thought; thanks to the touch-up her makeup looked utterly flawless. "That's much better; thanks." Putting away the powder brush, she dipped into her bag again, chose a dark red lipstick, and unscrewed the cap. She'd gone with a fairly light pink that morning, since that's what had worked best with her old, slightly washed-out coloration. Through the course of the day, however, she'd come to the realization that the deep gold of her new hair, and the cleaner, finer lines of her features demanded deeper, bolder shades to properly set them off.

"Well, I think you are a hero, even if you did end up with detention. Most people wouldn't have done that, just to make a girl happy." She considered that, then amended her statement with a slight smile. "Okay, most guys wouldn't have done it for a girl they're not dating."

Trent laughed at the qualifier.

"I guess so. The rules are a little different, if you're trying to impress a girlfriend, or even a potential girlfriend." Harmony nodded, wielding the lipstick's tiny brush applicator deftly, despite the movement when the light changed and the car accelerated once more.

"Fawn is adorable, though, and super-nice besides," she said. "I can't believe either you or Cody aren't already dating her. If you're thinking about trying for her then you'd better move fast, because otherwise I think I'm going to find someone to set her up with."

The car swerved just a little, and he shot her a look of surprise.

"Huh? I mean... huh?"

She shrugged, studied herself in the mirrors, and then went back to work with the brush.

"I'm just saying. She's way too cute, and sweet, not to have someone be madly in love with her. So I'm going to make sure that happens."

It was strange. She hadn't really thought about it until that very moment, and yet she meant every word. It was probably an odd thing to be considering, given that she'd spent less than an hour with the girl so far, and really barely knew her.

There's just something about her that makes me feel all warm and protective. And a teeny bit naughty, too, with the wanting to see if she would really say no to me trying to kiss her...which is still a very weird thing for me to be thinking of doing in the first place. Besides that, though, I like her; I want to take care of her. So I'm going to make sure someone kind and good falls totally in love with her: I think I can pretty much guarantee that happening, too.

She took the lipstick brush away, pursed her lips in a sexy pout to gauge the result of her work, and then flashed her a reflection a self-satisfied smile. The richer color definitely worked better for her, especially given the new intensity of her smoldering, emerald green eyes. It was about then that she felt someone else's eyes staring at her as intently as she was herself, and looked to her left. Trent was indeed staring (at least, he stared as much as possible while still paying enough attention to the road to keep from wrecking the car).

"What?"

He sent a quick, half-puzzled little smile in her direction, then gave the road his full attention.

"You're, um...." An uncomfortable moment or two passed, and then he tried again. "Okay, try not to take this the wrong way or anything, but you're not at all what I expected you'd be like." He frowned out the windshield, considered that, and rephrased. "Actually, in some ways you're exactly like I expected... except even that part has this strange, sideways sort of slant that makes you not nearly as annoying as a Cordy-clone is supposed to be."

She frowned at him, her hands slowly, automatically putting away her things.

"You thought I'd be annoying?" It didn't come out sounding angry; she genuinely wanted to know. Harmony was fairly sure she had been annoying, and for all she knew, the changes since yesterday hadn't improved things much at all. Maybe she'd even gotten worse.

He glanced over at her, then ahead again as he made the turn onto her street, and his expression was one of bemusement.

"Harmony, all of the cheerleaders at our school are annoying. Actually, they're just the worst subset of the whole obnoxious, conceited, 'we're the rich and uber-hot royalty and the rest of you are merely peasants' caste thing going on at Sunnydale high."

She tried, but was unable to find any kind of argument against that, because it was true. Everything, from who could date who, who got invited to which parties, even where someone could sit at lunch or at events like games and prom and the rest... it was all based on a system of status and popularity that might be unwritten, but was no less powerful because of that. Harmony had never questioned it, because thanks to Cordelia, she was on the inside; one of the most privileged of the privileged elite.

And now I'm completely outside of it, and not just because Cordy has temporarily banished me. They might think they're better than the rest; but I really am better than all of them now. Prettier? Duh! I definitely am, especially if I drop the illusion a little at a time over the next few weeks, and end up showing them what I really look like. The most popular? Well, if today was anything to go by, then yeah, it won't take very long before I'll be a more powerful 'queen of the school' than Cordelia could ever dream of being.

She looked at her image in the mirror, and knew instinctively what it would be like. If she played the game by the rules everyone else used, she would have the beautiful people playing at being her friends in no time, and they would all start to dress like her, and act like her, do anything to impress her... and they would still be vicious, nasty little souls who enjoyed looking down on anyone even slightly less-privileged than they were.

No. I mean, yeah, that would be fun and all, in a shallow sort of way, and I'll admit to being as shallow as the next girl. I could probably have anyone I wanted, only no one there is worthy of me now, because I'm a Goddess and they're not... so how can it even really matter to me how popular someone is? I'd rather have real friends for a change, not fake ones. I want people to like me, and to love me, not because I'm beautiful (or at least not just because of that), and not because I used magic on them, either. I'm going to pick the people I want, not the people who are in the right group, or are pretty enough, or popular enough, or highest up on the social ladder. So yes, Fawn, even though a lot of people look down on her for one reason or another. And Rachel too, because she was nice to me, even when I wasn't very nice to her. And Cody, and Kiara... maybe Kelsey, if she'll have me....

And maybe even Trent, here, provided he hasn't already decided I'm a complete freak.

That last part, because even though he'd pulled up in front of her driveway a few seconds ago, Harmony was still looking in the mirror while lost in thought, and was lovingly winding her hair around and around her fingers, admiring the way her long nails gleamed softly against the shining gold.

"Guess I can't exactly deny membership in the 'conceited and self-absorbed' clique you hate so much, huh?" she asked, smiling ruefully over at him. "I'm kind of the new poster girl for the 'I'm hotter than you mortals can possibly comprehend' club."

I probably shouldn't mention that in my case that slogan happens to be literally true.

"And I can see how someone like me could get on your nerves," she continued. Because Trent, as it so happened, had a bit of a reputation as 'sarcastic and cynical' guy, and as someone who refused to tolerate anything or anyone he deemed fake, or arrogant, or pretentious. Which, hard as she might fight against it, described Harmony's new self even more accurately than it had the old version.

"So I understand," she finished, moving to gather up her backpack from the floor at her feet. "If you'd rather not be around me, I'll try to stay out of your way. Just let me know if you're feeling crowded by me hanging out with Cody or Kiara or--"

"Wait, stop, hold on a second," he said, interrupting her. "That's not what I meant at all. I told you before; you're not like I thought you'd be."

She regarded him uncertainly.

"But I am all the things you talked about. My parents have money, I'm way self-centered, and you're never going to find anyone more hung up on their looks than I am." She was still playing with her hair, and she flicked one of the narrow braids at him to emphasize her point. He caught it before it could strike his chest, and refused to let go when she tried to pull it back.

"You're at least half-way rich, and you're completely hot," he acknowledged. "And it's true that in my entire life I've never met anyone more obsessed with themselves, but you're not a bitch about any of it, and you do still manage to care about other people... and that's what surprised me more than anything else about you." He grinned at her look of disbelief, and gave her braid a little tug. "You think any of the other cheerleaders, or another single person in that crowd you run with would care about Fawn being happy? They'd rather tear her to shreds about what happened to her brother, or make jokes about all the tutoring she needs just to pass her classes. If anything, I expected you to try and trash her, because she's pretty, and not part of your circle."

Harmony made a puzzled little pout at that, for once not taking time out to consider how sexy it made her look.

"Why would I do that? Fawn's completely adorable. I've only known her for one day and I like her; give it a week and I'll probably be crazy in love with the girl."

Trent blinked a few times at that, momentarily at a loss for words, and Harmony felt herself blush.

Um, not how I meant that to come out, obviously. Because really, that isn't something I want to have happen, with me and her.

Really.

"Aaaanywaaaaay," he said, obviously restraining himself from commenting on that particular verbal misstep. "Like I was saying, you're not a bitch. Which is pretty remarkable, given how you look, and who you hang out with. And word is you're even taking a stand against her royal highness Ms. Chase, by allowing yourself to be seen with that one girl, the one with the really bad skin." He gave her a tiny smile, and touched the little braid he still held to his temple in a mock salute. "I like that. It makes me feel hopeful about you maybe actually turning out to be a worthwhile human being."

She shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed while at the same time lapping up the compliments like a cat presented with a bowl of cream.

"Well of course everything you say is true, because I am the most beautiful, thoughtful, brave and all-around wonderful girl in the entire world," She heaved a dramatic sigh. "It's not easy being this perfect, you understand, but I do my best."

"As a duly-appointed representative of the great unwashed masses, allow me to say that milady's efforts are greatly appreciated," Trent told her dryly. She grinned, and flipped her hair back over her shoulder as best she could while sitting in the car.

"Just kidding, obviously." She waited for him to nod, then finished her thought. "I'm really not brave at all. Everything else, though--absolutely true."

He laughed again, though behind her own amusement she was eyeing him thoughtfully.

"I suppose I ought to tell you that you're not what I was expecting, either," she told him, more seriously. "Word around school is you're a very mean, snarky, not-so-nice person."

His smile became a bit more subdued at that, and he tugged on her braid again.

"That depends on a lot of things, not least of which is who I happen to be dealing with at the moment. If it's one of those cro-mag jocks, or a petty, selfish, completely narcissistic cheerleader, then that's probably a pretty accurate assessment."

She felt herself becoming steadily more interested in the boy, and leaned the slightest bit closer.

"What about when you're dealing with a kind, caring... completely narcissistic cheerleader?" she asked, a mix of playfulness and genuine curiosity taking hold of her. "What are you like then?"

His eyebrows raised at that, though he didn't miss a beat.

"I can honestly say that's not a mix of personality traits I thought I'd ever find in one person. After today, though...." He made a show of thinking it over, and finally shrugged. "Sorry, you've stumped me. I have no idea what I'd do or say. Although...." He cocked an inquiring eyebrow at her, his fingers still playing with the intricate braid of golden hair he held. "My reaction would probably be largely determined by whether or not this hypothetical girl was currently dating a very large football player. A football player who wasn't exactly known for his self-restraint even before he started abusing steroids."

She laughed in response to the implied question, though without much actual humor.

"Bryan? Nope, that's way over." She frowned, shifting the heavy tomes she held in her lap so that she could face him more fully. "I mean, I might have to see him a couple more times before he gets it through his head that things are over, but that's it. 'Seeing' only for Bryan from now on; his 'touching' privileges have been permanently revoked."

"Good," Trent said, with feeling. "That guy is a complete dick, and it really pisses me off that he told all his fellow goons about what he got you to do, with the--" He stopped, and actually blushed, looking more than a little embarrassed. "Sorry, I shouldn't bring that up. I'm sure it's all lies anyway. Just something else for the gorillas to laugh about while they're picking fleas off each other in the locker room."

She smiled sadly, and shook her head.

"I wish it was a lie, but its not. I really am that stupid sometimes." She indicated her braid, and pulled at lightly, though he still wasn't willing to surrender it. "Remember; blonde. And a cheerleader. So don't go expecting me to hold up my end of the conversation if you start off on philosophy, or politics... or, well, anything more complicated than Jem and the Holograms, or knowing which shoes go best with which outfit."

He frowned, and made a rude noise.

"Sorry, I gotta call bullshit on that one. You are way smarter than you let on when you're at school. All I can figure is that Bryan got you insanely drunk or something before he pulled that cola thing. What is it, you don't want people to know you were drinking?"

She shrugged, preferring not to shatter his image of her as someone clever.

"Thanks. Not many people accuse me of being smart."

It's something I hadn't thought of before, though, she realized suddenly. Hanging out with new people; Trent, and Fawn, and hopefully Angela... I won't have to act dumb around them. None of them have been around me enough to know what I'm 'supposed' to be like, they only know what they've heard... and everybody knows that gossip is wrong more often than it's right.

After that they sat and looked at each other for what seemed like a long time, though it was probably only a few seconds. Harmony could see that he wanted to do something, or say something, so she waited until he was ready to do or say it. He realized what she was doing, too, and a grin came and went in an instant. For the first time that day she saw Trent actually looking a little nervous, and when he finally put his words together she cocked her head to the side and listened attentively.

"Listen, you, uh, know that James is having one of his stupid parties tonight, right?"

A completely neutral nod seemed appropriate there, as she answered.

"I heard something about it, yes."

Trent cleared his throat.

"Well, if you're going, I could swing back by and pick you up--" He hurried on, as if Harmony had laughed at him, though she'd done nothing of the sort. "If you wanted me to, that is, because if we're both going then I'd love to give you a ride." She watched as he closed his eyes in pain, visibly steeled himself to continue as if that hadn't happened, and then opened them again. "To give you a ride to the party." He was, of course, asking her for a date without actually asking her, which would make it much easier for her to say no without anyone suffering too massive a blow to their dignity.

Harmony thought it over.

I think I like him. He's smart, and he has a sense of humor, and he's willing to get into trouble rescuing mice just because a friend asked him... that's not a bad start. Of course there was more to it than that, starting with the visual. Even though she wasn't going to let herself be trapped into the Sunnydale High class-system for determining who she could legally date, she was as choosy as most when it came to the looks department. Like she'd argued in class earlier that day, appearance did matter. Fair or not--and she freely admitted that it wasn't--she would have trouble dating a total troll, no matter how great his personality. Trent, fortunately, wasn't especially hard on the eyes.

He was a little over six feet tall, which was good because that meant she wouldn't have to bend down very far to kiss him, even when she wore heels. He was a little too thin for her tastes; there was an unfinished look to him that fifteen or twenty pounds of muscle would cure perfectly. His face, too, was narrow, with strong, bony features, and at first glance it was too harsh for attractiveness. His generally easy-going nature softened it, though, and the sharp-edged humor in his eyes tilted the balance the rest of the way.

And he wants me. This, the guy who just last month filled up every football player's locker--and the cheerleader's lockers, too, with garbage, and then left it there for the smell to soak in over the whole weekend... this is the boy asking me out on a date. He's not just drooling over my body, either, even when being around me is probably messing with those teenage boy hormones on a epic scale.

"Sorry," she told him, before the silence could stretch too long. "I already decided not to go." His eyes darkened with disappointment, and hurt, and the rote, polite words of understanding started to spill forth... only to be forestalled when she put her finger to her lips in a shushing gesture.

"I decided not to go, but having you offer to take me is almost enough to make me blow off this homework and go anyway." His eyes fell to the several heavy books she held, the ones from the library that were too big to fit in her pack with the others.

"Almost?" The disappointment was still there, though the hurt was fading. She nodded solemnly, even as her eyes showed something of the growing heat that was slowly filling her.

"A very close 'almost'." She shook her head regretfully, sending ripples down the wealth of hair that had spilled forward past her shoulder again. "Seriously, I'd love to spend some time getting to know you," And you can take that any way you like, she thought with a brief, wicked smile. "This project came out of nowhere, though, and there's a ton of reading that I've got to get started on tonight. If it were even a teeny bit less dire, then believe me...."

He grinned, faintly, and shrugged his acceptance.

"Okay then, maybe some other time." He still wasn't happy, and neither was she, really. There were several reasons not to go out on a date with him, some of them selfish, and at least one of them motivated by a very real concern for his safety.

Because I honestly have no idea what having sex with me will do to a human being. Seriously. It might break his mind, or turn him into my babbling slave, or even just kill him because I forget to control my strength for half a second. I won't really know till I try it with someone... it's just not going to be him. She shuddered slightly, at the waves of tingling sensation that rolled up and down her body, to finally settle in a delicious, tickly, very frustrating mass somewhere below her tummy. And let's face it. The way I'm feeling right now, if I go on a date with someone, there will be sex involved.

Epic, superhuman, earth-shaking sex.

This, coming from the girl who never had an orgasm when someone else was driving; who used to only do it with her boyfriends because otherwise they would dump her. Now here I am, slowly going insane because I can't wait to pounce on someone like a hungry tiger.

The books in her lap slid into the floor, unheeded, as she pulled herself slowly across the center console, so that she could lean into him and carefully, cautiously take his lips with her own.

Mmmmmm....

It was more difficult than she'd thought it would be, keeping herself from letting her magic roar through the connection like a flood, to drown him in an irresistible need to love her. Even if her powers were reduced now from what they should be, she'd seen with James that there was still a significant effect on the recipient. So she held back, using all her self-control to leave Trent's mind and emotions untouched. Untouched, that is, except for what a normal, non-magical kiss from her would have done to him.

She pulled back, slightly, and smiled at his slightly stunned look.

Ha! No quick riposte for that one, Mr. Smart Guy?

Moving slowly, teasingly, she reclaimed the narrow braid he'd been holding all this time. Carefully, deliberately, she looped it over his head, winding it around his throat once, then twice. The second, third, and fourth braids soon followed, alternating the direction she wound them, the first one clockwise, then the second one counterclockwise around his neck. When she was done she held the loose ends in her hand, effectively tying them together with less than a foot separating their faces. Multiple spells suggested themselves to her, ranging from simple lust-enhancers, through complex love enchantments, to one that would render him a magically-controlled robot, completely under her control so long as she left a single hair tied like a pet's collar around his throat.

She pushed them all away, and kissed him again. He met her halfway this time, and she did let just the merest trickle of her power move outwards from her lips and into his mind. Not to twist or change or control, but to taste.

With Bryan, and, truthfully, with pretty much every other boyfriend she'd ever had, there had been no way to really know what the person was like, ahead of time. No way to know if there was cruelty hiding behind a smiling face, or if sweet words concealed an indifferent, unfaithful soul. Now... well, now she did have a way to know what was there before it had a chance to hurt her.

She couldn't read his mind, not like this, anyway. What she did was take a tiny sip of who he was, of his very essence, and then consider it as a master wine-taster might contemplate an unknown vintage.

Desire; he desired her, though of course that was a given. A fierce mind; prickly and easily moved to anger, though always rigidly controlled. A dark humor, laid over numerous hurts that went back through the years. A wide swath of kindness, though often hidden. A dash of shyness, strong walls that isolated a powerful sense of uncertainty. And, overlaying everything else, strong bonds of devotion to the few he called friend, that held firm even when the relationships were thrown into conflict.

Her eyes had closed during the kiss, when she pulled away again she opened them.

Mm. He's yummy. I think I'll keep him.

"Whoa," was Trent's take on things, in a voice breathless with wonder. She smiled at him, and it was her turn to tug on one of the braids that bound them together.

"I wasn't blowing you off when I said I had homework to do tonight. I will go out with you, first chance I get. Promise."

He nodded slowly, and his smile grew like dawn breaking.

"I'd be honored," he told her, in complete sincerity. She smiled back, though it really seemed unfair to go any further without giving the poor guy at least some warning of what he was getting himself into.

"You need to be careful," she told him softly. "If you date me, you will fall in love with me. Completely, hopelessly, totally in love with me. And there won't be any escape for you after that; not ever. So be very sure that's what you want, before you go any further."

Trent grinned, looking a little more like himself.

"Are you trying to scare me away? Or is this more of that thing where you have an immodestly-high opinion of yourself?"

"Nope, I really am that awesome," she told him, watching his lips as he spoke, and wondering if her control was good enough for more kissing. She decided not to risk it, and started unwinding her braids from around his neck. He helped her, though of course his hands ended up on hers, gently caressing the soft perfection of her skin as he looked into her eyes.

"I think I'll live dangerously, and see what happens."

She sighed, happier now that she'd made at least some small concession to her conscience... and still come away with what she'd wanted.

"All right then," she said, reluctantly. "I really should be going."

Because if she stayed in the car much longer, she might give in to the ever-increasing temptation to see just how he would react to her, were she to share with him the sweetness and ecstasy that only a Goddess could offer. Sure, his car was parked right in front of her house, in broad daylight. That didn't have to stop her, when she had an illusion spell that would hide anything they might do. Trent looked to be waging a similar struggle, and she didn't want to rely on a male doing the right thing, or the smart thing; not when faced with the temptation she represented. Therefore she gathered up her backpack, opened the car door, and stepped out into the street.

"Thanks for the ride home," she said, giving him her sunniest, most dazzling smile, as if the last few minutes hadn't happened. "I keep trying to get daddy to trust me with a car, but so far no luck."

He smiled back, visibly relaxing as she got out, and the incredibly thick sexual tension dissipated a little.

"Dads can be like that sometimes," he told her amiably. She leaned into the car to gather up the old tomes she'd taken from the library, very much aware of the way his eyes followed her every move.

"I'll see you later," she said, and his return nod was emphatic.

"Most definitely."

She straightened, closed the door, and then waved and started up the drive. Halfway there she glanced back and saw him still watching her, though he made a show of lifting his head to stare up at nothing, and started whistling aimlessly when he saw she'd caught him at it. She laughed in delight, and he waved at her, and then put the car in gear and drove off.

"See? I have tons and tons of self-control," she told herself, walking up towards the house. She wasn't going to risk someone like Trent, either his body or his soul, for no reason other than she needed to scratch an itch.

Even if that itch was driving her to distraction, and getting stronger every minute.

Pushing those thoughts away as best she could, Harmony walked the rest of the way up to the house.

"At least this proves that I do still like boys," she mused. "Between Angela and Fawn, I was seriously starting to wonder...."

Walking around to the back door, she stopped short at the steps that led up to the deck.

I still don't have any keys.

Her mother's car was in the garage; she could see the Porsche from where she stood. Even so, the woman would have been gone most of the day for her usual spa visit, and her father had promised that he would take care of things, so....

Harmony set her pack and the large books down on the steps, then went over to the fake rock under the third shrub over. picking it up, she found a shiny new key waiting for her, the tag from the locksmith still in place, and she smiled with relief.

I love my daddy. I really do.

Bouncing happily back to the stairs, she grabbed up her things, climbed to the door, and used the key to unlock it. Maneuvering carefully with her ungainly load of backpack and ancient tomes, she didn't notice what was lying in wait for her until it was far too late.

"So you finally decided to stop making a spectacle of yourself and come inside," came a cold, biting voice. She whirled, only to find her mother there, glaring, just a few feet away. "What happened? Your old boyfriend get tired of fucking you, so you're already holding tryouts to find the next one?"

Taken aback despite herself, her good mood of a moment earlier gone without a trace, Harmony did her best to keep her face expressionless.

"Oh. Hi. Nice to see you, too."

* * * * *

Harmony had always lived in terror of her mother; in much the same way she'd always been afraid that monsters lived under her bed, or that everyone was secretly laughing at her behind her back. As it turned out, both of those last two might actually be true, instead of the one she'd been sure about before the revelations of last night.

I'll have to check the house for spirits and wights and, um, other sorts of evil beasties, she told herself nervously, in an attempt to not shrink back when the one very real evil denizen of the house stalked right up to her. Eileen glared down at her daughter, taking her usual pleasure in being able to physically intimidate the girl. This time around, however, it didn't work quite as well as expected. She didn't realize it, but the woman wasn't staring at Harmony's eyes... she was staring at a point just below her daughter's chin, and it was the younger woman who was looking down on her.

This illusion that's disguising my height... it's kinda confusing, she thought to herself, while struggling not to break out in a nervous grin. She thinks she's looking at me, when I'm really up here. I have to pretend I'm still five inches shorter than she is, though. At least it only does this when I'm standing up, and things are most obvious. Otherwise that whole thing with Trent in the car would have been even stranger, with him staring at my boobs the whole time, instead of just when he thought I wasn't looking.

"Well? Nothing to say for yourself?" Her mother's voice was always louder than it needed to be when she spoke to Harmony, and it was grating enough to leave her feeling battered and bruised afterwards, even though Eileen had never laid a hand on her in anger.

Well, so long as you didn't count the occasional poke and pinch, and, when she was younger, a slap here and there, though her father had put a stop to that when after he'd caught her mother at it.

"What do you want me to say?" the girl asked, her voice faint and thin.

"How about you explain to me this thing with whatsisname, this Bryan. You know, the one you let him fuck you, and then talk you into using a soft drink as birth control." The sneering and the contempt hit Harmony like blows, and she took an unsteady step back, her brief amusement about her newfound height already forgotten.

"That wasn't my fault," she told her mother beseechingly. "He told me that's what everyone does, and there wasn't any reason for him to lie to me, I thought. He's been my boyfriend for--"

"You thought. You... thought." Eileen laughed, the sound brief and bitter. "Maybe you should have thought before you let him violate you. Or at least before you let him talk you into letting him do it without any protection." She shook her head, her eyes hard. "You stupid girl; do you even know how to keep your legs together?" Harmony's mouth was hanging open; she tried to say something, anything, to defend herself... only she couldn't. Her mother was mean, and cruel, and awful... and she was also right: it was all Harmony's fault. She'd been so incredibly stupid, and gullible, and had let Bryan take advantage of her. If she hadn't let him, he couldn't have done it. How could it be his fault, then? She knew that wasn't true, not completely, anyway, and still, right then she believed it.

She hung her head, and stared at her mother's stylish, expensive shoes, and said nothing.

"I suppose we'll have to get a pregnancy test for you now," Eileen continued, the harshness in her voice falling into the background for a moment. "And while we're at it, I'll make an appointment for the doctor to check you for STD's; if you're sleeping around like this there's no telling what you've picked up already."

The girl wanted to snap back an answer to that, to say that she wasn't 'sleeping around', she'd only been doing things with her boyfriend that everyone expected her to do with him... only she couldn't very well say that. Just as she couldn't say that Amora had spells that were a hundred percent effective at preventing pregnancy... even though Asgardians only rarely had children anyway, and they never, ever contracted earthly diseases of any kind.

All of those were things she wanted to say, and couldn't.

"I dumped Bryan today," was what she said instead, softly. "He's a horrible person, and even if I was being dumb, he shouldn't have--"

"You dumped him, and here you've already got a another one sniffing after you!" Her mother snapped, overriding her. "I was watching; I'm sure everyone on the whole block was watching, when you were letting him paw you in his car just now!" Eileen stalked around her daughter, eyeing her like she was a particularly unworthy beggar she'd encountered in the street. "I suppose you'll be letting this new boy have his way with you, too? What, are you just letting everyone at school pass you around like a toy? Is that all you've learned at that school?" She stopped, gave a sniff of disdain, and grabbed a handful of the girl's hair. "Besides how to use blonde-in-a-bottle, that is." She rubbed the golden strands between her fingers, hard, and then threw it down, hard enough to yank painfully at Harmony's scalp, and start tears from her eyes. "I suppose you got the money for this new stuff from your father? Or have you been in my purse again?"

"Mom, I never got in your--"

"Don't lie." She stalked off to stand framed in the doorway to the front parlor, very consciously striking a dramatic pose with her hands on her hips. At forty-one, Eileen Kendall remained a remarkably attractive woman. She was tall, and her body had the sort of faintly desperate fitness of an older woman who dieted and exercised with religious zeal. Her hair was dark blonde, and cut in a style that left it fitted to her head like a sleek helmet, the ends touching the exact center of her neck. She knew she was attractive, and it was one more way to make her daughter feel inferior.

Again, that had changed, without her knowledge, though Harmony was having trouble remembering it at the moment.

No, she wasn't feeling beautiful right now; not in the least.

"Just keep this in mind, you stupid little girl," her mother told her in a voice as soft as it was furious. "I talk to people who talk to people, and they tell me things. I know what happens at your school, and I also know about you and all your friends dressing up and running wild last night, as part of some ridiculous Halloween prank." Harmony's eyes widened, and her outrage was enough to overcome the fear and intimidation, at least briefly.

"Prank? That wasn't anyone's idea of fun, that was something that was done to us--!"

"I told you before; don't lie to me." Eileen walked back slowly, her eyes sweeping her daughter up and down. "I don't know what's worse, having you be as plain and boring as a stick someone's dressed up as a girl, or this new, hooker-in-training look." She scowled, the expression almost causing lines to form on her pretty face, though in the end the botox won out over the wrinkles once more. "I won't have this from you, Harmony; I simply won't have it. If you want to sleep around, and drink, and smoke, and do drugs with your friends while you run amok and smash in store windows, at least be smart enough to wait until you're safely married. That way you can blame it all on stress, and make your husband cover the bills for your therapy and rehab."

The girl looked at the floor, and the leg of the kitchen table, and then the base of the refrigerator, when it began to hum quietly to itself. Her mother let her stand there for a full minute, and then turned away.

"That's all. Now get out of my sight."

Without a word, Harmony got her things, and hurried out of the kitchen. She was up the stairs and into the refuge of her bedroom in seconds, and she slammed the door hard enough to crack the frame in two places. The only time it was safe for her to 'act out' like that was right after one of her mother's little talks, since it was unlikely in the extreme that the woman would want to see her again so soon.

Harmony could relate; she never wanted to see her mother again, ever. If she'd had someplace else to go, anyplace at all, then she would have left in that very instant.

"I don't know where Asgard is," she told her room, her voice tiny and lost. "I can remember it, I can see our palace there... but I don't know where to find the bridge, or how to cross it even if I did." She sat on her bed, stared at the posters on her wall, and saw nothing except memories that were not her own.

"I wish I knew where to start looking...."

* * * * *

"Ohh, she's dreaming... dreaming of places far beyond the fields we know. Somewhere she's never seen with her own eyes. And such deceitful eyes they are; so green, like frogs and lizards and the little apples that made my tummy hurt when I ate them...." The voice itself was dreamy; an ethereal sing-song like that of a child. "Tell me! Tell me about the walls, and towers, and fierce, tall, handsome people! Over the rainbow, it is, and yet Oz is nowhere to be found! What will the lion and scarecrow and flying monkeys think of such strangeness?" A quiet, indecipherable murmur followed, and then she went on, more loudly. "No, she's never walked there, and yet she misses it so very, very much, the poor dear. Oh, and she's prettier when she cries, isn't she just?"

Spike stopped in the doorway, and watched Drusilla playing with her dolls. Some of them were porcelain antiques they'd taken from the homes of wealthy victims in eastern Europe, and some of them were mere bundles of rags with buttons for eyes, given to her by some innocent children in a small village in Russia, just before she ate them. She was playing with a new one now, some kind of clown or mime doll, he assumed, with a shock of long, pale hair and a face painted half blue and half black.

"She's changing it all 'round, without even trying. There will be ever so much that will have to be done differently, now," the delicate, waiflike vampire whispered to the doll. "Mysteries and magicks and singing that makes no sense at all; I've never even been to Norway. It's cold there, and grim, and I can't tell when the runes are upside down." She frowned, and held the little cloth doll against her ear, and then nodded grimly. "Yes. Yes, a nasty, naughty little tart, she is, flirting with them all that way. She ought to listen to her mum: wear decent clothes, do as she's told, and stay away from the boys until she's properly wed. Then I wouldn't have to fear that she'd come and steal away my... Spike?" Drusilla turned her head, finding him where he stood in the shadowed doorway.

He smiled gently, and moved to take her in his arms.

"I'm here, pet. Just checking in on you before I go out, is all."

She leaned against him, and a fresh pang went through him when he felt how frail she'd become. Holding her as gently as if she were a sculpture of glass, he kissed her. Drusilla tasted of sweet things, with a trace of something faintly rancid underneath; as if the most wondrous fruit in the world had been left a bit too long on the vine. He didn't care; she was everything he'd ever wanted, and he was completely devoted to her.

"Don't go," she told him when the kiss ended. He looked at her in surprise, and she stared at him intently, her dark eyes glittering. "Don't go, Spike. Nothing good will come of that girl."

He gave her a sidelong look, not at all surprised that she knew more about what he'd intended to do than he did himself. His lips quirking towards a smile, he caressed her shoulder lovingly.

"You've 'seen' her, then? This new bird that Harlan ran into?"

Drusilla's usually serene face scrunched up in a look of distaste.

"Not new; the biggest part of her is old. Old and new, all mixed up and swirling 'round inside. The boys think she's so pretty; some girls think so too, wicked things. The nuns would punish them most severely." Spike's eyebrow lifted at that, and he would have asked a question, if his lady had not suddenly dipped her head, and looked up at him from beneath her lashes with forlorn hope.

"You don't think she's pretty, do you, Spike? Aren't I your princess?"

He smiled at her fondly, always willing to reassure her on that count.

"No one is more beautiful than you, love." He lifted her hand to his mouth, brushing his lips across her delicate fingers. "My dark goddess, now and forever...." To his surprise her pleased expression flashed over to anger in an instant, and she jerked her hand away.

"There's no such thing as goddesses!" Her voice was low and furious, and she turned back and forth as if she wanted to pace, but couldn't decide which way to go. "They're make-believe, right? She's make-believe; only a fairy-tale, someone from a story, like Goldilocks gone wandering off the pages." She was very upset now, grabbing handfuls of her own dark hair and yanking at it distractedly. "Goldilocks! All horrible and yellow, like sunlight...."

Spike was frowning, not terribly disturbed by the familiar, rapid mood swings, and yet a little unclear about what he was hearing.

"'Make believe'?" he asked. "Something beat the hell out of that git Harlan, and somehow I doubt it was his imagination. I want to go have a look at this girl. If she really can do magic, we need to know who's side she's on."

Drusilla just looked at him, sullen and pouting, now, and when he moved to kiss her once more she turned away. With a sigh, he let her be.

"I'll bring you back some dinner. We're getting closer on finding your cure, you know, and I don't want you wasting away before we can make you all better." She pretended not to hear him, holding the little doll up in the air and bouncing it up and down and side to side, as if it were dancing for her. When he turned to leave, he heard her whispering to it.

"Slipped in through a door that shouldn't have been open, didn't she? The shadows know, they know all about her... and they are not pleased...."

* * * * *

Wards turned out to be surprisingly easy to do, though it might have been Harmony's current state of mind that made building thick walls of protective magic around her room seem so effortless. Sure, the invisible barrier wouldn't keep her thoroughly mundane mother out, but it did make her feel better, knowing that there was something more than simple walls between her and that... woman. An added side benefit, one that she hadn't expected, was the quiet. As soon as she finished the last section of the barrier, fusing it with the walls, ceiling and floor of her room, there came a sudden easing of a pressure behind her eyes, one that she hadn't even noticed until it was gone.

"Hey, much better!" she said out loud, flicking her fingers to dissipate the last of the shimmering green magic that still clung to her hands after her work. And it was better. The low, angry growl of the dimensional anomaly apparently filled the entire valley where Sunnydale was situated, though it was an almost subliminal presence once you were a short distance from the school. Even so, it had been there, like a background sound you stopped hearing after a time, and the absence of it now came as a genuine relief.

She went back to her bed, stepping over her discarded boots and backpack, and sat down on the bed beside the stack of huge books she'd brought home. Building the wards had taken most of an hour, and a fair bit of energy besides, though that was partly because she'd been slowed down by the need to search Amora's memories for the details of how to do it, and by her impulse to make the defenses as powerful as she could manage. The end result was a cube of energy enclosing the room that, when viewed with her mystic sight, was almost blindingly bright. Hers were much stronger than the ones she'd encountered in the library, and if any magical being besides herself tried to pass through them, it would get a very nasty surprise indeed.

"And now that I've built my own, I think I understand how to take someone else's apart," she murmured, spreading the books out across the covers. "That should come in handy, when it's time to check out more books. 'Cause I'll just bet that old Mr. Giles keeps the best ones all nice and safe in his office."

Thinking about that made her wonder again; why was their librarian keeping this stuff at school anyway? Even if he was some sort of sorcerer, and apparently he was... didn't the guy have room for his magic stuff in his house? What, was he trying to keep it away from some really nosy roommates? Was the extremely unsecure library really the best option he had? She had no idea, and, short of asking him, she didn't see any way to find out. Whatever, it was great for her, even if it was going to end up costing her a lot of her free time.

Starting right now. Opening up the thinnest of the heavy volumes, she turned to the first page, leaned over to retrieve a notebook and pen from her dresser, and then started reading. Even though this wasn't an actual instruction manual for how to do magic, it did look to have some interesting hints on how certain kinds of mystical energy behaved in this universe. Understanding that might give her some vital clues on how to adjust her own sorcery....

* * * * *

Three hours later, she set the book aside, brushed the tip of her nose a few times with the purple feather that decorated her pen, and considered the implications of the last chapter.

Huh. Okay, I actually understood all that. More than understood it, even; it was easy. I think this is sort of a 'mystical phenomena for dummies', and not the advanced stuff I'm really going to need to fix my hocus pocus.

Even so, there had been a few interesting nuggets of information in there, not the least of which was an explanation of just what it was that grumbled and snarled to itself beneath the high school.

"Hellmouth," she said aloud, testing the sound of the word. "Boca del Inferno: the mouth of hell. Nice. Or 'charming', as Amora would say." She sighed, sat up, and stretched, waking Josie in the process. "We're definitely not going to go exploring other dimensions through that," she told the cat. The feline looked up at her from where she was sprawled in the floor, blinked sleepily, and then stretched out one paw to bat lightly at a small glowing sphere that rested just within reach.

That sphere was only one of several dozen faintly glowing constructs that now littered the room, the byproduct of Harmony's study session. Whenever she'd run across something that seemed related to the lessening of her magic in this universe, she had paused to cast a spell, testing to see if what she'd just read might possibly lead her towards a solution. So far the answer to that was 'no', but she hadn't expected it to be that easy, and remained optimistic. And, at the very least, studying the book had brought more of Amora's magical arsenal up from the depths of her memories.

Shields, for example. It only made sense, now that she thought about it. She had offensive spells (if not very many); it followed that there should be defensive spells too, and true to form, the Enchantress had taken the defense of her precious self very seriously. Harmony now remembered several protective shield spells, which were themselves a combination of both telekinetic and energy manipulation. That allowed them to deflect both physical and energy-based attacks, which was good news. The bad news was that, like most of her other magicks, her shields were much less powerful than they should have been. What should have been a close-fitting aura that would shrug off bullets and energy beams and (especially) vampire fangs, seemed like it would be hard-pressed to keep her dry in a half-way serious rainstorm. The floating disc-like shields that were supposed to stop the most powerful of magical attacks insisted on disintegrating if she so much as thumped them with the Goblyn hammer spell.

Harmony looked at the construct that hovered over the nightstand, wishing she had at least one defensive spell that worked as it ought to. It was entirely too likely that she would find herself in need of some serious protection at some point, and it was equally likely that she wouldn't yet have managed to figure out how to fix her magic before that happened....

"At least I know I've got 'em," she told herself. "And now that I know, I can work on straightening them out."

Besides the shield, there was also a small constellation of lights floating slowly around up near the ceiling, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. She'd been practicing 'establishing' spells; making them temporarily self-sufficient, so she didn't have to maintain her concentration to sustain them. After doing a few of the glow spheres, however, she'd decided that she liked the warmth of the illumination they provided, and had done a few more, then turned off the harsher electric lights. A few odds and ends were also scattered around the floor; little balls and blocks and simple geometric shapes made from magic. They were variations on the same principle that lay behind the shields; energy that could mimic some of the properties of physical objects. Theoretically she could make impenetrable walls of the stuff. The reality, for now at least, was that they were more like very resilient soap bubbles, albeit very pretty, golden, glowy soap bubbles.

Josie loved playing with them, too, though when their magical 'charge' ran out and they flickered and vanished, she tended to sit and stare at the empty spot for several minutes, as if waiting for them to reappear.

Harmony sat her notebook aside, swung her legs around, and stood up, stretching again, the tips of her nails just barely brushing against the ceiling. New and improved body or not, she was almost stiff from lying reclined on her side for hours. Her former favorite study position had been to lay on her stomach, propped up on her elbows so she could look straight down at the book or papers or whatever spread out underneath her. Obviously there was no way that was going to work any more. Not given the way she'd been 'enhanced'. She looked down at her breasts, not unhappily, but also not without a little exasperation.

"I'm going to have to sleep on my side, or my back from now on, and I hate sleeping on my back. Also? 'Zero sag' does not mean 'zero bounce'." She'd learned that while going up and down the stairs at school earlier in the day, and when she'd run up the stairs to her room earlier, there had been some serious jiggle action.

"Bra shopping, as soon as possible, definitely."

Shopping of every kind was sort of essential, actually, as she didn't have much of anything that would fit her, besides the outfit she'd worn to school. Well, there was the faux-corset thing that she'd been wearing during the Halloween transformation. And the reason she was thinking about which clothes in her closet might still be wearable? That was simple.

"Because I want to go out."

Looking at the clock didn't tell her much, since she'd accidentally killed it that morning. Even so, she knew that it was now roughly twenty-four hours since Ethan's spell had transformed her. A full day, and she was still here; smart and cute, and sexy to boot... and that darn itch was really, really begging to be scratched. Not that she was going to go to James' party. For one thing, she wanted to go as herself. Her new self, without any illusions or disguises. That would be a little weird, at a party attended by people who might possibly recognize her. There was quite a bit of difference between 'HarmonyPlus', which is what she'd decided to call her illusionary, more-than-slightly improved self, and her actual, full-on Enchantress self. Even so, there was a fair resemblance between the two, and it wasn't impossible that someone would make the intuitive leap. So... someplace else. Someplace with grownups, and maybe some real food. She was seriously starving, and there was no way she was going downstairs to raid the refrigerator, not while she was down there. Also, she had a powerful craving for some wine. Apparently Amora never did any research without a goblet of the stuff in her hand to sip from (and a pretty servant standing attentively by, ready to refill her cup as needed). Harmony herself had never been much of a drinker; anything with more than a trace of alcohol made her dizzy in a hurry. Even so, just the thought of a nice, well-chilled vintage was making her throat seem drier.

The problem remained, however; what did she have to wear? And more than that, how was she going to get anywhere? Walk?

She padded to her closet, banishing the little glowy constructs in the floor with an impatient wave of her hand (Josie made a 'miow!' of disappointment). Peering inside she frowned, then turned away.

"It doesn't matter. I'm not going to walk, and I can't call anyone, either. No one I know has seen me like this, and I couldn't explain it to them... could I?" She didn't know how that conversation would go, or even how it would begin. It was awful, though, not being able to tell anyone what was happening to her. She thought of calling Cordelia, again, dismissed the idea, again, and flopped back down on the bed.

"This really sucks."

She let herself fall back, expecting the softness of mattress and pillow, and instead promptly smacked the back of her head on the largest of the tomes.

Hard.

"Ow!" Sitting back up, she rubbed at her scalp gingerly, and glared at the offending volume. "You must be a book of evil magic, you," she told it accusingly. "'Cause that was just mean."

Shoving it off the bed, she lay back again, more carefully this time. With her hands folded beneath her head, she looked up at the little lights slowly orbiting up by the ceiling. When one of them flickered and died, she whispered the Word that replaced it with a fresh one, while also executing the mental twist and push that held the tiny spell in place.

That's easy to do, now. I think I could make them last for a long time, if I really wanted to.

The wards should last a long while, too; if she spent a few minutes on them every week or so, they'd stay active pretty much forever. That was good, since she'd already decided to put them around the entire house, as soon as she had a chance.

That vampire guy said he could smell me from blocks away. Maybe he was lying, to try and scare me, but then again, maybe not. So... make sure the house is safe, and that daddy and... well, make sure that daddy is safe. Maybe I should get him a cross or something? Do crosses even work? She watched the lights, and pulled one hand out from under her head, resting it on her stomach. It's probably in one of those books I took; I'll find it tomorrow. Though... it seems kind of cheesy, me giving my father some other god's holy symbol. Shouldn't he use mine? Wait, do I even have one? A moment's consideration revealed that yes, Amora did have a symbol... just not a very good one. It was basically just her name, spelled out in Norse runes; very lame.

Viking gods weren't much into graphic design, I guess. No problem, I'll come up with my own version; add that to the list of things to do. Oh, and I really want to find some better paper. I'm not going to use a quill or anything, but that super-thick vellum stuff I used back in Asgard... I mean, that she used... oh, poop, that we used... I want something like that. Maybe a specialty store, or office-supply place could get it for me?

Her fingers were caressing the bare skin of her belly, where her blouse had crept up a little. She sighed, and smiled slightly at the feel of that soft, taut, flat tummy.

I hope those fat-buster spells I remember are ones that are working okay, 'cause I really enjoyed eating actual food today. Something else for the list: some cookies to snack on while I'm reading through all these books. And some wine, too. I'll have to try one of those aversion spells, I guess, to keep anyone from noticing it if they come in here.

Her hand was drawing slow, loving circles across her skin, and she noticed that it was slipping a little lower on each pass. She sighed again, a little disappointed despite the little prickles of pleasure that were spreading out from that touch.

I'd really much rather someone else was doing this for me; doing it to me. Hopefully it won't be long before I have some volunteers? Her fingers slipped below the elastic band of her bikini-style panties, and she gave a little shiver of pleasure. Only one thing was missing, and she grinned suddenly as another idea struck her.

I wonder what daddy would say if I asked to have a mirror put on the ceiling over my bed...?

It was at that point that she heard something that distracted her, and she froze for a moment while trying to identify the sound. It was a rumble, faint but familiar, and then the sound of....

She sat up, her breathing still a little rapid, and her face still flushed.

It was the sound of a car door slamming.

"Bryan."

Struggling up out of the bed, pulling her skirt up and her blouse down, she hurried to the window. It was well after sundown outside, and in the accent lights that lined the driveway she could see a large form walking from the street, towards the corner of the house. He had been here several times, and knew enough not to use the front door. Harmony quickly raised her window, leaned out, and called softly.

"Bryan!"

He looked up, spotted her, and strode across the lawn to stand under her window.

"Heya, babe." He grinned up at her, his arms spread wide. "Have no fear, your booty call is here!" His voice was much too loud, and she made frantic shushing gestures at him.

Also, she sort of threw up in her mouth, just a little.

No. Absolutely no way. I don't care how desperate for sex I am, that is never going to happen, ever again. Not with him.

He was looking at her expectantly, while edging towards the side nearest the back entrance of the house.

"So how do you wanna work this?" he asked, still too loudly. "Me just coming up to your room and throwin' you down on your bed, or you coming back to my crib, or... what?" The boy was genuinely confused at why she was gesturing angrily at him to stop. A few moments later his expression abruptly became even more confused, because hadn't realized that somewhere in there her gestures had gone from angry to mystical. When her telekinesis grabbed hold of him he instinctively tried to free himself.

Too late. The invisible gripping force took a few seconds to solidify, but once it was in place, no mere human being was going to escape it. The burly football player found himself rising straight up, to stop on a level with Harmony's window. He stared at her, mouth agape, and the goddess-girl found herself sorely tempted to punch him. Instead, she leaned out of her window, and looked around to make sure no one was watching. Luckily for her, she had a very large yard, and it was heavily-landscaped, with several small trees scattered about. There really wasn't a clear line of sight for any of the neighbors to see her window, and since the front rooms of her own house were off-limits, no one seemed to have heard the noise.

"What the hell--!"

Bryan found his voice, and then found her slim, delicate, very strong hand clamped firmly across his mouth.

"Quiet!" she hissed. Then she took a breath, and regarded him, and even managed to find a small smile. "Well, what do you know; you're right on time for you next treatment. I guess at least part of that suggestion I planted last time took hold." He stared at her, wide-eyed, obviously not understanding what she was talking about. Harmony didn't bother with explanations. Instead she pulled more energy from the universal flows all around her (ignoring the icky Hellmouth taint that was an unavoidable part of that), and locked the telekinesis in place. Once that was done she was able to let it go, and Bryan remained where he was, suspended fifteen feet off the ground. She nodded, pleased, and raised her free hand.

"Look at me, Bryan. Look at my eyes; aren't they beautiful?"

She drew her fingers across her eyes, and when his gaze found hers she caught his mind in an instant.

Neato; that was easier than last time. See? Even something as dumb as this can be trained, if you're patient.

"Very good; you're a very good boy, Bryan. You came to see me, just like I told you." She took her hand away from his mouth, slowly, and wiped her palm on his shirt to rid herself of the saliva there.

"Y-you told me to come to your house...." he told her, much more quietly this time. "I'm all rested up, now. Let me in, babe. Go strip down and get the lube, 'cause I'm in the mood for some back-door lovin'--"

"Stop right there," she told him, and his mouth snapped shut.

Again, with the trace of vomit in her throat. She was going to have to brush her teeth for ten minutes to get rid of the taste.

"Listen carefully, Bryan. Don't talk; just listen." He nodded, and she let out a slow breath. "You did good, doing what I told you. You like to do what I tell you. In fact, your entire, miserable existence is going to revolve around doing what I tell you to do; won't that be fun?" He looked at her blankly, and her eyes narrowed. "Nod, Bryan; it will be fun." He nodded, and she smiled. "There you go. Now, I'm going to reinforce that, and it will feel wonderful. You're also going to keep coming here, only more quietly from now on, and you're going to do it first thing every morning, and last thing every night, and that will be wonderful too. Everything you do for me is wonderful, because I am your goddess, and you exist to serve me. Right?" He nodded. "Fantastic. Now, before I do that mental stuff, let's try another dose of the physical."

She put her hands on his shoulders, bowed her head in concentration, and then reached. Her transformation magicks might be out of commission, but her healing was working fine, and there was a way to cheat her way around the temporary limits on her powers. Since he was a living being, this should work... she hoped. A full minute passed, and then another, as she poured all the power she had into his body. When she raised her head he was still staring at her, only now there was a confused, faintly terrified gleam lurking in the back of those dazed eyes.

She patted him on the cheek, and then sat back so that she could prop her elbows on the windowsill.

"How did that feel? Good? Bad? Weird?" He couldn't seem to find any words, so she shrugged. "No big deal, I don't really care. You made a big, big mistake when you got on my bad side, didn't you? Because trust me, my bad side can be a really evil bitch." She cocked her head, studied him, and then extended one finger to poke him in the chest. "You think all this is bad? Little man, you don't even know how much poo is in the process of raining down on you." She poked him again for emphasis, looking him over carefully as she did so.

Nope, nothing showing yet. He looks a little ragged, and tired, but he's still a really good-looking guy. For now.

She moved her hand up so that her fingers were spread across his forehead, and she stared into his eyes.

"Time for some more programming, Bryan. Remember, you come here in the morning, and at night. You don't bother my parents, you don't make a fuss, you just come here and wait for me." She stopped, nibbled delicately at her lower lip, and then smiled broadly. "Oh, and you're going to walk it tonight, and in the morning. Where are your car keys?"

It was still early enough; she could get dressed, find a nice nightspot, have some real fun, and still be back before dawn. It had been a long day, and she was running on only three hours' sleep....

"And it doesn't matter. I feel great!"

Twenty-four hours and counting, and none of it is fading; not at all.

"How do I look, Bryan?"

Glazed or not, his eyes didn't have any trouble tracking up and down her body.

"Fuckin' hot," he mumbled, as clearly as he could manage while being the mystical equivalent of stoned. "My girlfrin' is totally fuckin' hot...."

"You got that right," she said, fluffing her hair happily.

Who's a Goddess? Who's a Goddess? I am!

* * * * *