Chapter Five is available. Click here for the page again. It's shorter than the last two chapters (though longer than the first two), and I'll probably add to it some, internally. I'm trying to avoid overtalking and think I may be undertalking about Tara's emotional issues. We'll see.

Nova, some notes (still in editor's cap):

Capiche

It would be spelled "kapish", but truth to tell, I can't hear Lilah saying it. Just my take, but that doesn't strike me as her sort of comment at all, and it doesn't really meld with the sense of polished threat she's been conveying through the previous speech. And the previous speech, all of it, is really good - someone who had no knowledge of Lilah would read that and say whoa-uh, she's a high-powered bitch with layers.

Now, on that theme, I want to wave something here, as a writing sample, and make a suggestion:

After confirming that nothing new had appeared in the apartment,

Remember my spiel about showing, not telling? This is telling, purely the narrator's view; you're moving her around, but you aren't showing us things through her eyes. Who is Tara? Would someone not familiar with this character get a sense of who she is, why she's so fearful, her inner strength?

Show us the girl, her actions, her feelings. Light her up for the reader. This is a statement of what you want this character to do, not a picture of what she's doing or why. We need a picture. It doesn't have to be long, or involved, or nitpicky, but it does need to be there. Fiction, or fic, has to be more than statements to support a plot - there needs to be characterisation and story. And here's a spot where you did that, and did it really well:

...Tara, already quite familiar with the story, tuned the two out as she wandered around the apartment. [After confirming that nothing new had appeared in the apartment,] she stopped at the necklace she had seen earlier. If anything here was going to be important, she was sure this was it. Focusing on the charm, she began a meditative exercise that was supposed to elevate understanding of a mystical object...

"Tara!" said Wesley, suddenly, shaking her out of her trance. "Are you all right?"

Here, you've shown us the girl and her reasons, her actions, from her perspective. Perhaps taking that statement out and combining the flow - "Tara, already quite familiar with the story, tuned the two out as she wandered around the apartment, coming to a stop at the necklace she had seen earlier. " would work?

The Fledgling, part 35...Homicide/Angel Rated R

I’m not listening to that again. “Yes or no, asshole. My time is valuable. I have to be in Redmond tomorrow. And you know what that means. One smirk from me, and Wolfram and Hart is busted from a T-1 line to paper cups and string, huh? Mr. G. and I have an...understanding. "

I slam the whip down on the desk so hard even Timmy would find it over the top. Papers skitter around and some fall on the floor...I try to insinuate them in my demon wonderbra.

”Well, in that case, Mistress, my answer is yes. That is the goal, Ma’am.”

“You please me greatly, slave. We’re gonna create our own little win-win here, huh? You’re gonna share what’s on your mind, and if I like it, you get to touch me. If I don’t think you’re being honest,I get to chastise you. And we know you like that, too.”

“I can show you my elevator.”

“Let’s take this one step at a time, shall we?” That was one euphemism I hadn’t heard.”I want to make our party last.”

He laughs, which I’m not expecting. “It’s not about my manhood. It’s an actual elevator. To the darkest reaches of Hell.”

When a suspect smiles, you get real friendly. “Worse than this?” I say, and smile pretty.

“I guess you thought I was being metaphorical,” Manners says, like he was gonna teach the dumb whore a thing or two. I sucked back my real feelings and said “You’re not?”

“Oh, no,” he says, “Actual hell.”He looked proud, like it was sargeant's stripes or a key to the executive toilets.
“Hell. You mean with pitchforks and devils and stuff? Fiery pits?”

“Not the parts I’ve seen, but I’ve not seen all the torment dimensions.” I could feel my blood turning cold as he talked, a feeling I’ve not had for a long time.

“Um, let’s save the best for last, shall we? Although I can tell you are just an evil mastermind chock-full of dirty little secrets.” It sickened me to play up to him, but the occasional sweetness just gave my dominance that much power.

“Enron was my idea,” Holland Manners says. “But I never get any credit for it.”

Man, I am dying to see what she gets out of him. And of course, now I'm envisioning guys in some Knox-like science division of the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart, building Ken Lay and....

Thanks. But I think the Munchkin's angst is going to take things over for a bit, first.

This week's Open on Sunday theme is "punishment".

"Do You Want to be Punished?"

The English countryside is verdant, rolling hills of green. There's soft life everywhere, trees, bluebells, lupine and campion. Even the clouds are gentle.

The interior of Willow's head is not quite so gentle.

She understands what she's done: murder, the oldest taboo. It makes no difference that the man she killed was himself a murderer. It makes no difference that he took from her what she most loved. The bare fact, the act committed, takes up her entire mind.

Rupert asked if she wanted to be punished. She goes to him, her hands folded, and accepts the punishment he offers.

"The Fledgling" part 36 Homicide/Angel

MUNCH

So, it occurs to me, right in the middle of tracking the biggest conspiracy of my life and fantasizing about Kay’s enhanced cleavage, I want to go home. Yes, that’s right, even through the two-great tastes-that-taste-great togetherness of it(see how insidious advertising is? Even dead people quote it. I weep for my nation.)
I miss cloudy skies and cold nights. And cobblestones. Whoever thought I would care about cobblestones? Buildings built before last Thursday. Places where every third person isn’t blonde. And my old apartment was already pretty dark, I have no need of a fancy lair. It’s just not my scene, the consort bit.
The Princess feels I’ve withdrawn from her, and is trying to drown her sorrows again. This time with some gardener from Belize with a great...hose, who doesn’t even speak English. I didn’t expect to be irreplaceable, but that is just insulting. I’m not going to stick around for that. And I know she’s nursing two grand passions. One for Angelus and one for Counselor Herrenvolk. No matter what I do, I can’t compete with that.

L.A. can never be my town. People smile too much here and too many women have silicone or saline in strange places. But I know what you want to know. Do I miss humanity? Yes, and no. But Balmer is easier to get to. There is a prophecy somewhere that says some vampire is gonna get a do-over on the whole homo sapien trip, but I know I’m not that guy. He’s a hero...I’m the guy who breaks into bookstores to impress a woman that I haven’t the guts to make prey...you know what I’m saying, babe?
It took forever to even begin to sort it out, my concentration’s gotten so rusty. But I’ve got nothing but time to read these days. And I don’t exactly have a flair for languages, since I kept getting kicked out of Hebrew school for being a smartass. But I will not have Kay thinking Wesley is smarter than me. If she ever asks about that stupid “shanshu” thing, I want to have the answer ready for her. She’ll really love...that.

What kind of stupid name is “shanshu” anyway? It sounds like a waterpark attraction or something. Something kids come to the zoo to feed...not a great transformation.Eh, who needs it? I haven’t been through all this to tap-dance to the tune of some prophecy. I’m not sure why, really, but what? I need a reason now? Why should my unlife be any different than the sad shambles of my life?

It bothers me to think of leaving Drusilla. It surprises me how much. But she’s a job by herself. She talks too much and I’d be afraid to leave her in my place by herself because she’d set the place on fire or something. Maybe I should just cut out some afternoon, early, before she wakes up. Because she could get around me with those big green eyes...I know she could, even though you’d hardly expect a monster to be so schmaltzy, right?

Excellent Munch angst. I love that he wants to get back to Bawlmer - the homesick vampire detective is a perfect fit..

My second punishment-theme drabble. Why yes, I am in a dark mood today.

Resurrection

"Do you trust me?"

She lays spreadeagled, her eyes open just enough for her to be able to watch him. He's a shock-haired slash against the shadows of his own crypt, slowly pulling off leather. He's rampantly erect; his own eyes are lasers in the dark. She sees his face, wanting to ridge and furrow.

"Do you trust me?"

The manacles on her wrists and ankles are the real thing. Not even slayer strength is getting her out of these. Truth is, she isn't trying.

The only thing she trusts Spike for is to punish her for being alive again.

If there is anyplace less Munchlike than LA, I can't imagine it. Texas, maybe. Thanks, though, although it's scary how close to the surface that always is...that Munch thing. Almost eerie. Know what I'm saying, babe? Can't help feeling I skipped a step, someplace. Very tempted by "Punishment" not sure if I should do it.

I tell you what, love, it really suits my mood today.

Hell, so far? It's the only thing that suits my mood today.