Saturday.

Disclaimer: I own nothing it all belongs to Kim Harrison.

I never thought I would hate Saturdays, Saturday is the day you enjoy after a long week of work. The afternoons are for sleeping in, the evenings for shopping and the nights for partying. However now Saturdays meant staying awake worrying about Rachel. They were for carrying out the little rituals that brought me good luck, that bring my dear heart back to me. For months now I had followed the schedule religiously, today though it seemed the oven had taken it upon itself to attempt to sabotage my plan. The worthless thing still wasn't hot "fairy made piece of crap".

Tapping my foot furiously I thought about the problem, I was beginning to really cut into my safety cushion of time. I would be lucky to get everything done if I couldn't get the apple pie in the oven soon. Not eating the pie was not an option, my wish on the pie in Mackinaw had come true and so far it had worked every week here as well besides it had taken me awhile to learn how to cook apple pie. I suppose I could eat it raw it couldn't be any worse then the first one I had made. Rolling my eyes at my own stupidity I turned the second oven on.

I had known the perfect witch's kitchen needed to have two sets of hobs but the information I'd gathered hadn't told me about the number of ovens, for symmetry and to be safe I had two ovens installed as well. I had wanted Rachel's kitchen to be perfect for her. She doesn't use the second oven much mostly just to dry potions bottles, still it was proving its worth now transferring the pie I made a mental note to get a repairman out to fix the oven preferably when Rachel wouldn't be in. Sighing I set about clearing up the mess resulting from making the pie. I had a run next week and I started sketching an initial plan in my mind as I washed the dishes anything to avoid worrying about Rachel playing with demons in the ever after.

Someone was walking up the steps to the church, drying my hands I tried to keep the scowl off my face as I walked to the door. No one called at the church on a Saturday I had made it clear to Ceri and Keasley that visitors where not appreciated and I had had all our advertisements changed to reflect the fact we were now closed on Saturdays - something I'm not sure Rachel had realised. There was even a notice on the door Bis put up for me every Saturday at dawn after we had seen Rachel off. I knew my pupils were dilating replacing the brown but I really couldn't bring myself to care as I yanked the door open just as the cookie pulled the door bell.

The warlock had I.S written all over him. Leaning against the door I waited for the cookie to speak. He looked to be 30 or so brown hair with a matching pair of eyes and a nice open face I'm sure made people feel they could trust him even as he stabbed them in the back. The scent of his fear was quite pleasant and I let myself enjoy it. "I'm here to speak to Morgan...please" he spat Rachel's name out as if it was foulest thing he could imagine. My monster stirred demanding we teach him a lesson how dare he speak of our dear heart in such a way. Controlling my instincts I didn't bother to verbalise my answer choosing instead to let the look on my face speak for itself. The cookie started to speak again this time trying to fill his voice with authority.

"My name is Chester Smallridge I'm a witch with the I.S I'd like to speak with Ms Morgan. You must be Ms Tamwood yes?" Damn a witch I had thought for sure I had got it right that time, Rachel spelled a lot, which meant her scent was so witchy that it was hard to tell the witches from the warlocks these days. "My aren't we the pretty one, so trustworthy looking but we both know that's not true. You don't smell like a witch more like a warlock compared to my little witch. I'm afraid her mother taught her to never talk to strangers and I don't let scum like you near her. So your all out of luck warlock". My voice was full of derision and my expression mocking. The cookie was radiating anger in waves, I really wanted him off our steps I had things to do. "I am a witch, I don't smell like your witch" sarcasm dripped from the last two words, anger replacing it as he carried on "because I'm not a filthy black witch who collaborates with demons".

Rage roared through me, grabbing him I spun around and slammed him into the door, which hit the wall with a satisfying bang. The cookie was screaming, struggling ineffectually against me no wonder my dear heart had such trouble finding someone worthy of her if this was what she could expect from a witch. His neck was so close, so tempting. Then my sight shifted to memory, my dear heart moaning breathlessly with want and joy as her aura mixed with mine. And just like every time I had tried to feed for the past two months the memory left and the sight and scent of the neck in front of me wasn't appealing it was disgusting and my instincts rejected him. Throwing the struggling pathetic excuse for a witch down the steps to land on the sidewalk below.

I felt the strange tug on my mind that I didn't know how to tell my dear heart about. He was tapping a line, whirling I slammed the door shut a yip of terror a moment later and the deep chime from the bell told me I had been right. Silently thanking Rachel for the anti charm curse she and Ceri had placed on the church last week I took a deep breath to calm myself down, "fuck" the church was full of the smell of burnt apple pie.

Throwing the black and crispy pie onto the island I stalked over to the refrigerator "I wish I'd eaten the damn thing raw" pulling the carton of orange juice out I didn't bother with a glass it had been one of those days. My dear heart was off playing with demons in the ever after where I couldn't watch her, couldn't protect her and now the I.S was sniffing round and I couldn't even bake a fucking pie. The carton exploded showering me in the sticky juice and pulp - I had squeezed to hard. Damn it I had better control then this, Rachel would be fine she would come back to me at dawn, she would be ok and we would deal with the I.S together. Throwing the dripping remains in the bin I headed for my bathroom. I didn't have time for this but even Rachel's under developed senses would notice I was covered in juice.

Changing my mind at the last second I went into Rachel bathroom, stripping I put everything straight into my washing machine no one would see me walking naked across the hall. Jenks knew better then to come into the church or let any of his family in on Saturdays. God Rachel's bathroom smelled good. I needed to move, needed to try and make up for the time I had lost but my feet wouldn't listen. All I could do was stand there and breath the scent of my love deep into my lungs. I wanted to get in her shower but I couldn't Rachel and I work hard not to mix our scents I'm not going to undo that just because of my weaknesses. I miss you so much Rachel, I need you. Closing my eyes I hesitated and the memory of our blood tryst flashed through my mind again.

No one will ever know it will be my guilty secret, just this one time. Disgust at myself for being this weak, this needy filled me briefly. But it couldn't stand in the face of what may very well be a slice of heaven, the hot water washed away my fears, guilt and inadequacies replacing them all with redwood - safety and love. Lathering myself with Rachel's soap and then her shampoo I felt whole. My fingers massaging my scalp and the scent of Rachel all over me inevitably kicked my imagination in to overdrive. My fingers became hers, my dear hearts breasts pressed against my back, her nipples hard and rubbing against me as she stretches upwards her fingers running back and forth across my head. A moan of desire slips from me as her fingernail trails down my back as if following a bead of water. The gentle pressure down my spine seems to go straight to my clit.

I whimper and try to refrain from begging as Rachel hesitates just above my ass her fingers lazily travelling from one side to the other torturing me. I open my mouth to beg but her hand moves to cup my ass her thumb stroking the cheek she has claimed. My breathing becomes a breathy panting of need as her other hand slips from my hair and starts running down my side to rest on my hip. Her breath is a warm caress as she tilts her head to whisper in my ear. "I love you kitten, I'll never make you beg again I'm yours now and forever". Her hand slides round to my front, gently she approaches the feel of her fingers feather light as they reach between my legs. Rachel's fingers run nimbly back and forth as if checking their welcome, my hips jerk in need and her fingers slip between my folds. "Oh god yes Rachel, I love you dear heart". "Ivy??" My dear hearts voice is thick with confusion and shock rather then love now. Awareness penetrates my lust addled mind and I open my eyes as I pull my hand from between my legs. There on the other side of the glass was my fully dressed dear heart reeking of burnt amber.

A/N I don't think I really captured Ivy that well this time so I don't think I will carry this story on. Any thoughts?