Pigs fly, hell freezes over ... and Darrin and Endora discover common ground in a two-bit strip club in Bayonne, New Jersey.

Bewitched: A Meeting of the Minds at the Pussywillow Lounge
by Randalynn

Darla Derwood (also known as "Double-D" to her fans) walked into the dressing room she shared with three other strippers and sighed. She wore nothing but a G-string, four-inch heels, and a small frown as she dumped the thin wisps of fabric she called a costume on the make-up table when she entered.

She lifted a red silk robe off a hanger on the back of the door and pushed it closed with her hips. Her full round DD breasts bounced and shifted as she slipped the robe on and tied it shut around her tiny waist. The fabric clung to her generous hips as the rest of the robe slithered down over her legs on its way to the floor.

Without thinking, she pulled her long curly red hair out from the back of the robe and let it fall across her shoulders. Then she slid gracefully into the director's chair in front of her make-up mirror, looked at herself in the glass, and stuck out her tongue.

This is going to have to stop, she thought. All of it. It has gone on too long already. Time to pull the curtain.

"Endora?" Her voice was sweet, soft, and musical. "Are you there?"

Silence.

She sighed again and glanced at the clock. Her next turn on the stage wasn't for another twenty minutes, but she had nothing else to do but sit here and stare at the woman she had become only a few short days ago. Samantha and the children had been going away for a week to visit with her father, and Darrin had told her not to worry. He'd be perfectly okay alone. After all, he was a grown man. Sam smiled, gave him a quick kiss, and she was gone.

But Endora had wasted no time. One minute he was stepping out of the shower, soon after his family had gone, and the next she was stepping onstage here at the Pussywillow Lounge, peeling off her clothes to an overpowering disco beat and trying very hard to smile instead of cry.

Three days of stripping and lap dances, and the manager's wandering hands. Three days of simulated sex with a pole, baring everything to drunken men with money to spend. And smiling, always smiling, like it had always been her dream to take her clothes off in front of frustrated husbands in Bayonne, New Jersey.

And always just on the edge of tears. Until this morning. Until she realized that nothing would change between her and Endora unless she MADE it change.

Starting now.

"You rang, Darla?" A sharp voice voice drifted down from above. Darla looked up into the overly made-up eyes of her mother-in-law, the witch who had tormented her male self nearly non-stop for almost seven years. She sat on nothing, suspended in mid-air just below the ceiling, wearing brightly colored silks and a big smile. She looked very happy.

"Did you call to threaten me? To bluster and to huff and puff, like you always do? As if that would change my mind. It never has, you know." Her smile grew. "Given your current state, maybe you should 'throw a hissy' or pull my hair instead. Maybe threaten to scratch my eyes out. Although just between us girls, that won't help either."

Darla just looked at her. Endora let the silence grow, until she realized suddenly that the former Darrin was not playing his part in the script, as he had always done. Her eyes narrowed.

"All right, Darwin, I'll bite. What's going on?"

Darla bowed her head, almost a nod, then raised it to look in Endora's eyes.

"I want to talk with you."

The witch wrinkled her nose. "Talk?"

"Yes, talk." The red-haired woman waved to a nearby chair. Endora remained where she was. "Over the years, we’ve shouted, snapped, bickered, growled, traded insults, or ignored each other. Maybe it's time we tried to talk for a change. Because the rest of that is getting us nowhere."

Endora's lip twitched. "Oh, I don't know. It's got you here, doing five shows a night while men drool and stuff good money into your G-string." Darla looked back at her, impassively. Like a stone statue in flesh tones and shades of red, the witch realized. Sterner stuff than Dilbert had shown her before. Endora sniffed, and looked away. "Besides, what could the two of us possibly have to talk about?"

"The one thing we two share, above all else," Darla answered. "Our love for Samantha."

Endora's eyes flashed. "How dare you compare my love to yours! Mortal love is a pale shadow of what we witches can feel."

Darla shrugged, and didn't raise her voice a hair. "I'll have to take your word for it, since I'm not a witch. But I know Samantha loves me, and I can feel how strong that is. You're probably right."

"She doesn't love you," Endora insisted, derision in every word. "She can't. She's infatuated, that's all. Nothing more."

"She loved me enough to agree not to use her magic so we could be together." Darla reached up and closed her robe with her hand, covering her cleavage without taking her eyes off of her mother-in-law. "She loved me enough to bear two children ... our children ... your grandchildren. And to hold tight to our marriage despite your disapproval and ... hatred of me. You raised a smart and beautiful daughter. She's not mistaken, or misguided, or wrong. Samantha loves me. And I love her."

Endora jerked her head in dismissal. It was Darla's turn to be angry.

"If I didn't love her ..." she said hotly, "if I were truly weak, I would have run the first time you threatened me. Or the first time you changed me into something else. Or the second, Or the third. Or the two hundredth." Darla turned and looked into the mirror -- into those deep green eyes Endora had given her. "And I never begged you to stop. Never pleaded for mercy. Never ran from you, either, no matter how much I could see you despised me. I held onto my love for her, and put up a brave front whenever we fought. I had to be strong. For her." She turned back to Endora and her eyes flashed. "I think I've proven my love, by what I've had to put up with for the past seven years."

"What I've done to you in the past is nothing compared to what I could do!" Endora raged above her. Darla became calm again.

"Oh, yes," she said. "What you've done to me this time shows there are depths you still haven't explored. The humiliation of having me parade and ... debase out there for those ... men. Trapping me like this ... in this body. In this life." Darla shivered. "Without even the flimsy excuses you've given yourself in the past. This time, I didn't argue with you, or insult you, at all. With Sam and the children gone, I thought I wouldn't have to see you at all. A nice quiet week for everyone. But then, out of nowhere, without a reason, you do this to me. The husband of your daughter. The father of your grandchildren. Turned into a cheap stripper and turned out on display. This isn't even a sham of justice, Endora. It's just hateful. And wrong."

The witch gasped. "You dare ...?"

Darla nodded. "I dare. Because this time is different. This little adventure will end one of two ways. I will endure this for the remainder of the week, and Sam will come home and realize I'm gone. She will discover the truth of what you've done to me and be horrified, and demand you return me to my male self. You will play at refusing, as you always do. But eventually, you'll give in. Because you love her. You always bend because you love her, and you know I make her happy. Because as much as you hate it, she loves me. And she loves you too, which is why she'll be angry at you for a time, but she'll let it go. Because she loves you."

Darla turned back to the mirror. "The other way this ends turns out differently. Maybe this time, you don't bend. Because you hate me so much, you did this to me out of spite -- just to hurt me, because you can. Maybe you don't care if you hurt her, too, or my children. I don't know. Maybe deep down, you don't really care about anyone but yourself. Why should you? You can do whatever you want ... have whatever you desire. Certainly you didn't mind the hours of aggravation and heartache you've caused my wife in the past because of your hatred for me."

"But if you choose the second course ... if you don't bend ... she will still come home and find me gone. And if you don't return me to her, she will hate you. The children too, when they realize you've taken their Dad away forever. As strong as a witch's love can be, I know the depth of a witch's hate. Because I've felt yours, Endora. And Samantha is still your daughter." Darla shivered. "You'll lose her. Forever."

Endora thought about it, and realized Dustbin was right. She would have to give in or lose her daughter and her grandchildren. Still, it galled her. "It isn't right, what you've done to her in the name of love. Stolen her heritage away, her magic. Made her a shadow of the witch she was."

Darla nodded and looked at Endora in the mirror. "You're right."

Endora's eyes widened. "I'm ..."

"I said, you're right. I've been thinking about this for a long time. I was wrong to insist she cut herself off from her past, her people. Her birthright. Just to satisfy my need to earn what I make, on my own? That's my business, not hers. When she returns, the ban ends. She can do what she likes. I only ask to be consulted on matters pertaining to myself and the children, but she is free to use as much or as little magic as she chooses. If you agree to my proposal."

"Proposal? Are you bargaining with me, mortal?"

"No," Darla said with a shrug that set her breasts quivering. "If you leave me like this, or worse, I will have no power over what Samantha does or doesn't do. It won't matter to Darla whether Sam uses her magic or not. Oh, I could call her, but you could make it impossible for me to reach her. You could make me so stupid I wouldn't be able to figure out how to use a telephone. Or you could send me somewhere else, too far away to reach her. But if we agree, and I am returned to my family, then Samantha is free to do as she wishes with her magic."

Endora considered the red-haired stripper before her. "What do you propose?"

"Détente." Darla's voice was flat. "You let me be, and at least try to be civil with me in front of Sam and the children. In turn, I will do the same with you. Samantha has her magic, and we can both move on."

"How does this benefit me?" Endora sounded suspicious.

"In three very important ways," Darla replied, looking at the clock and picking up her brush. She continued speaking as she fixed her hair. "First, you make Samantha happy, because you love her and she will be overjoyed that we're actually getting along. Second, you make your grandchildren happy, because you aren't hurting their Dad anymore. And finally, because you will eventually realize that time is on your side, and you will win in the end."

"What does that mean?"

"You said it yourself a few minutes ago. You called me mortal, and mortal I am. You and Samantha and the children will live thousands of years. You will see the future, as you have seen the past. But in forty years or so, I'll be gone. Dead and buried. And you will have Samantha and the children all to yourself. Without me." She put down the brush. A hint of sadness crept into her voice. "You'll have thousands of years with her, Endora. With them. Can't you spare me the rest of my short human life? Just to make your only daughter happy?"

There was a chime, and Darla looked up. Endora was gone. The new woman sighed again. She had hoped she had finally gotten through to her mother-in-law -- that maybe there was a shred of decency buried under all that self-interest. Darla leaned over to touch up her make up. A few more days until Sam and the children get home, she thought sadly. Then we'll see. I can do this until then. I have to.

She felt a hand squeeze her bottom and then slap her hip. She jumped and squealed in spite of herself.

"Stop primping, girl!" It was the stage manager, an aging lech with a leer that seemed permanently fixed on his face. "You look just fine to me. And you're on in thirty seconds anyway. So go shake your money maker and make the customers happy." He stood back and watched as Darla shrugged off the robe and hung it behind the door as she left the room. She glided quickly across the backstage wing, draping her skimpy costume across her curves as she walked.

When Darla was ready, she nodded to the DJ. The music began, and she stepped through the curtains ...

... and he found himself back in the bathroom at home, a towel in one hand and Darla's "come hither" look plastered across his very male face in the mirror above the sink. Darrin smiled his own smile and leaned over to wipe some fog off the glass for a closer look. Instead, he found himself looking at Endora's face instead. He took a step backward and covered himself with the towel.

"Very well ... Darrin," she said with a reluctant smile. "For the sake of Samantha and the children, you'll have your life together." She shook her head and looked down. "And you're right. I did ... go too far, this time. Nothing I've ever done to you before could shake you. Could make you leave my daughter and run. I became ... frustrated."

"I don't know if I'll ever ... like you, but after all this time, I have to respect you ... " Her eyes narrowed. "... a little. And you must really love her to put up with all this for so long. She certainly loves you." She shrugged. "So the games end now, forever. Have your time, and treat her and my grandchildren well. Because if you ever hurt them, remember ... there is always an empty seat in the dressing room at the Pussywillow Lounge." For a moment, the reflection wavered to show a shocked stripper staring back at Darrin. "And I know just the shapely bottom to fill it ... dear."

There was a chime, and the reflection vanished. Endora returned, threw her hands in the air, and disappeared.

And after a long moment staring at his old self in the mirror, Darrin laughed, and once again wished for the end of the week to arrive ... just so he could hug his kids, and hold his wife in his arms again.

"Wish granted," Endora's voice purred. There was another chime, and he could hear Samantha's key in the door, and the voices of his children outside.

"Be right there!" he called. Only it came out in Darla's voice. He heard her laughter again, and turned to see her standing in the doorway to the bathroom

"Endora! You promised!" He felt a twist in his throat, and knew his own voice had returned.

"Old habits, Derwood," she said sweetly. "Last trick, witch's honor!" Endora held out her hand. "Truce ... Darrin?"

He had to smile. "Truce," he said, and shook her hand.

Maybe ... finally ... things were going to change.

And after seven years, it was about time.

NOTE: Gwen's earlier story in the Witchyverse prompted my own frustrations with Bewitched to come forward and demand attention. The story just sort of wrote itself. And I guess, in the end, I think love can conquer hate ... or at least hold it at bay to keep the ones you truly love happy. It's a start for Darrin and Endora, and that's all anyone can ask.

*hugs*

Randalynn