CoF - Zahir - From Childhood's Hour

Summary: This is a sequel to "Never The Twain?" set in an alternate history in which Willow never completed the Soul Restoration Spell. Willow and her vampire lover, Tara, come to Los Angeles at the request of Faith's Watcher. Meanwhile, Wolfram & Hart get a new client.

AUTHOR: Zahir
EMAIL: zahir@brainlink.com
WEBSITE: http://zahir.150m.com
RATING: R (for violence and adult themes)
PAIRING: Willow/Tara
SETTING: Up through and including S5 of "Buffy," halfway through S3 of "Angel."
DISTRIBUTION: Just ask is all.
DISCLAIMER: The toys I'm playing with belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I promise not to make money off them and to put them back none the worse for wear. My hope is that they won't sue me. Besides, I don't own much.
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Chapter 1

The vampire's lair was even stranger than Lilah had expected. On one level it seemed comfortable, even luxurious. Plush carpetting. Dark wood panels. The chairs were ornate, probably expensive.

But the dozen or so really elaborate and large (and empty) birdcages in every direction seemed wrong in more ways than she liked to imagine.

Lilah took a look around at the cages again. Empty, every one. "I'm a little hard of hearing today," she ventured. "Still getting over an ear infection." It wouldn't do any harm to suggest her blood might be less than wholesome, she thought to herself. Or she hoped it wouldn't. Gazing into those eyes made any seemingly rational decision seem risky, even naive.

"No one can hear them but me," the raven-haired woman (well, she still had a woman's shape anyway) confided. "Because they're ghosts. And they're haunting me." She smiled. It made her seem curiously childlike and utterly psychotic at the same time. Lilah resisted the urge to whip out the crucifix she had in her briefcase. She had a job to do.

"It's come to our attention," Lilah began, "that the Slayer has been causing you some inconvenience."

"Naughty Slayer. Not like the other one. She's even more naughty. But she's dead."

The insane vampire shook her head, setting dark curls to shaking. "The other one, with hair like the nasty sun. She's gone. You're talking about the fiery one. With hair like lovely night." Drusilla wandered over to the cage nearest Lilah, staring inside. With a push, she made it spin. "I put their eyes out before I killed them, you know." Then she looked directly at Lilah. "She has hair like you."

"The point is, my firm wants to help you take care of our mutual problem. Namely, the slayer. That's why I've been sent."

Suddenly, those eyes were on her again, but even more intense. Like some kind of mystical laser beams. For the briefest of moments, Lilah feared that's something like what they really were--that all kinds of secrets now stood revealed for Drusilla to know and use. She had met vampires before, and over a dozen species of demon. Each had been unsettling, and more than one had stirred up fear in Lilah, fear she'd controlled at the time, only allowing herself to actually feel the reaction later. Now, as then, she steeled herself not to react. Yet the simple fact remained--Drusilla was single more disturbing individual she'd ever met.

Of course, that also made her fascinating. It was easy to see why the Senior Partners wanted to harness the efforts of this powerful creature. And why this meeting made such a good test of her, Lilah's, abilities.

Drusilla leaned inward, staring at Lilah's eyes as a child does the inside of marbles. "You're wicked," she whispered with a grin. "I like you."

"Thank you." What else was there to say, after all? "I've been authorized to present you with a gift on my behalf of my firm. A token of good faith."

Almost instantly, Drusilla's face shifted. Twice. First, she lost every trace of childlike innocence in her expression. It was replaced by rage--but cold, ruthless. Then, her forehead and eyes and mouth actually changed shape. Feral golden eyes burned from a furrowed brow, while fangs protruded from those lips.

"Faith!" she hissed. "Bad Faith took my lovely Spike. Gonna take her to the shed for that!"

"Y-yes," Lilah had never stuttered before. Had she? She couldn't think of a time. "That's why we brought you something. Something we were sure you'd like." Her cellular was out in record time, the speed dial pressed and one word "Now" said into the receiver. She managed to keep her voice from wavering. Lilah was rather proud of that.

Three terrifying seconds later, the lackeys came in, carrying their drugged burden. Lilah pointed to the sofa where they were to place him. They'd have to go near Drusilla.

Reluctantly, they obeyed. Packaging tape held his arms and legs bound tight enough that even if awake freeing himself would take major effort. Tranqued, he had no chance. Drusilla stared at the lackeys every second. They left faster than was strictly necessary. Lilah quietly memorized their names. For later.

Drusilla approached her "present." Lilah thought she looked at him as if her senses weren't what mere humans used. Which might be the case. She laid her hands on him. And inhaled.

The vampire shook her head. "Not yet. They dance and dance and dance, but that's all these two have done. Poor Slayer. Poor, naughty Slayer." She giggled again. One hand stroked the shaved head, pale fingers tracing abstract patterns against his dark skin. Gunn stirred slightly.

Faith braced herself just enough to swing. She had one split second to be ready, and she was. As the motorcycle raced past her, the thing with tusks riding it came in contact with her sword. The blade slid through hide and bone, spilling ichor. She pushed, held, then pulled, leaving the demon to collapse screaming on the street. Nine. She'd killed nine. Another dozen waited.

Ignoring the snarling gasps of the dying one, she ran to position herself for the next attacker. Like jousting knights, two more cycle-mounted creatures hurled themsevles at her. These two held a chain between them.

Each nerve tingled in Faith's body. The timing had to be perfect. Crouching, she made ready to leap. Of course they knew she could jump higher than any normal human. As did she. Otherwise any movement up as that chain neared would be suicide--they'd just lift it to match and she'd be sheared just as neatly. Or messily. But as a Slayer, she had a chance. So they gunned their engines, pouring on as much speed as possible. Exactly as she'd hoped. One they were close enough, she hit the ground and rolled. Going too fast to slow or turn (not holding a chain, anyway), they sped past. And howled.

Picking up a stray hubcap in the abandoned lot, Faith wasted not a moment. Already another biker demon was on its way. Like a frisbee, she hurled it as hard as she could--not at him, but at the ground exactly in front of the motorcycles wheel. He went down in a tumble.

Instantly, she turned around. Of course. Tweedle Smart and Smarter had circled round to make another run. Ready for her to roll. Expecting it. Slower. But still too close for her to get a good leap in. Oh, yes--they'd timed this well. So she ran. Toward the demon she'd just un-biked. He was crawling away from his hog. Fine with her. Her booted feet found him a better stepping stone while crawling. One big step, then another from the bike itself and a jump. Sure enough, from the crashing sounds behind her the chain-guys had managed to rip right into the torso of their compadre--then his bike. Very nearly in slow motion, Faith hit the ground and rolled forward, away from the screaching impacts of demon and metal directly behind. Momentum. That was key here. Keep rolling until out of the crash area, then use that momentum to get up again.

Shards of broken glass. Pebbles. Bottle caps. All of this debris and more she rolled over. Rising, she found herself unsteady enough to need several steps. Damn. Lack of control. Where was she stepping towards? And what was there? She didn't know. Experience said the crash behind her would just miss. Just.

Both ways. Fast. Take in the scene. Immediate threats? One--this biker-demon had tusks as well as horns. And what looked like a sledgehammer in one hand. Raised exactly as if she was a nail needed to get imbedded in some wood.

Worse, he was close. And fast. Faith was a little unsteady. This was going to be tricky.

The only option Faith could see was to blunt the blow with her sword as it came down, using its momentum to swing herself to the side. She'd need some luck, but with some she could definitely get out of his range of motion for maybe two seconds.

Grinning, she got ready. "Come on!" she bellowed, willing the demon to her even faster. Lets do it. Now!

Something caught Hammer-Guy from the side. He made a sound halfway between a scream and a snarl, then went over, his bike going with him in a spin. Faith had to run a bit to avoid getting knocked over. Yet amidst all this, she recognized the tail of a crossbow bolt protruding from Hammer-Guy's neck. Looking in the direction where it came, she was surprised to see three figures, not one. There was Wesley, late but welcome, re-arming his crossbow. But beside him...

Willow Rosenberg--Red--had a buckler, and clearly longed to cower behind it. Instead, she used it as a small shield (well, that's all it was, after all) and was hurling a ball of greenish light at one of the hulking demons who'd dismounted from his bike and loomed close. Some kind of lizard thing appeared on his face, evidently digging or biting or something. He wanted it off, certainly. Willow was forgotten.

Next to Willow stood Tara McClay, or Little Miss Cyclops. Like Faith, she carried a sword--in her case, a katana. As she swung it, another nearing demon found itself missing an arm.

Faith never did learn how she knew, but at that very moment she turned and swung her broadsword. Without meaning to--or at least realizing she was--she aimed high. Not until it was already arching through the air did she hear the growl of her target. Half a second later, its bearded and fanged head was falling the the ground. As it landed, one horn broke. The body to which it had belonged fell at a different angle. As she watched, both head and body began to evaporate into an oily mist. Oh, right. Wesley had mentioned these demons melted when you cut their heads off. Faith looked around. The other bikes were roaring away from this lot. Damn. Still, some groaning noises were behind her. She turned, saw the demon whom she'd unbiked with the hubcap. He didn't look good after receiving the business end of a taut chain in his middle. Still, give him credit. Those red eyes were still focussed on her. And he was still clawing what was left of himself in her direction. For nearly five seconds, she waited.

"Okay." Two steps. A swing of her blade. One more demon evaporated. She looked at her Watcher. "Happy?"

"Wow," said Willow as she got closer. Faith could see she was trembling. Well, so was Faith, but for different reasons. Still, Willow got noticeably calmer as Tara came to her side. They shared a private glance. Faith stared, then looked away.

"These guys are like vamps," continued Willow, "all with the disappearing and stuff."

"Fortunate, all things considered," noted Wesley. He was looking at Faith. Not happily. When he spoke, his voice was lower. Concerned. "It wasn't them. You know that."

"Yeah, well I asked the Biker guys about what vamps have been hanging around. But they'd rather fight than talk, so..." She gestured with her sword at the carnage.

"So...what're you girls doing in the city of angels?" She glanced at Wesley, noting how he had to look back at her deliberately. Gods! He was such a bad liar!

"Wesley's been worried." It was Red who answered. Yeah, that made sense. "What with what happened to Gunn, and--and everything." And now with the puppy eyes.

"He thought you'd--what? Hold my hand? Pat me on the head and tell me to get over it?" Faith made herself smile when saying this. It wasn't a pleasant smile. No, not at all. She knew that from experience, but the way Red's face faltered confirmed the fact. Good to know she hadn't lost her touch.

Faith didn't let him finish. "Really? Maybe you thought I'd let my hair down around the girls and get in a good cry?" By now she was saying this through clenched teeth.

"Not at all..." Wesley didn't continue. From his body language, Faith could tell he wanted to step back. Good man, he didn't. Or maybe not so good. Faith had really hoped to take out all the bikers by herself. Had been looking forward to it. Nothing like a really good, all-out, take-no-quarter combat to make a girl feel alive. Getting in the way of that was not a good idea. Nope. Not even a little bit.

"Actually," Miss Cyclops said, "he thought we could help you track down Gunn's killers."

Damn. That was exactly the right thing to say. A powerful witch and a skilled fighter with superhuman strength could help alright. A lot. Double damn. Faith made herself shift gears.

Lilah Morgan rose from her desk and waited. It was less than a minute later that the door opened. A Security Guard escorted Drusilla inside. Tonight she was sheathed in a silky red thing, almost precisely the same shade as worn by a Roman Catholic Cardinal. Amusing, that. In a way.

"Miss Morgan? Your guest." The Security Guard seemed calm. But wary. He barely reacted at Drusilla's sideways glance. Maybe he didn't notice it. Lilah thought that a mistake.

With a nod, he made his exit. And Drusilla didn't wait to wander over to a chair and sink into it like it was a throne.

"Sorry about all the precautions. Just policy. Honestly, it has nothing to do with you personally." The vampire's eyes didn't even meet hers. Instead, she stared at Lilah's desk, hands clutching either side of the chair like talons. Exactly what she could find so fascinating was anyone's guess. Lilah continued, "Is there anything you want? Anything I can get you?"

Slowly, Lilah came from behind her desk. "Drusilla?" Bending slightly, she could see the vampire's mouth was slack. Her eyes were unblinking. More, they seemed strangely empty. Lilah had read through the firm's file on Drusilla many times. Better than most, she realized how dangerously unpredictable the raven-haired vampire was. Reports on her were difficult to find. Only the fact she'd been at large for over 150 years had let Wolfram & Hart accumulate as much data as they had. Some, she knew, tended to dismiss the contradictory reports. Not Lilah. Drusilla had been driven to severe emotional breakdown prior to her change. Then the convent where she was to take final vows seemed to go silent. Visitors found a slaughterhouse. Not a single nun had been left alive, but the body of one specific novice went missing. Lilah guessed that Drusilla had been the last victim that night. Which meant she'd seen all that went on before. That trauma, clearly, had gone with her into undeath.

She didn't want to get too close. On the other hand, this was in many ways a test. And it wasn't as if she was really increasing her risk at this point.

When she spoke, Drusilla's voice was low. "They're all gone." She sounded childlike.

Lilah lowered her own voice, trying to be as quietly motherly as possible. "Who?"

"All my lovely cobras." Now she looked like she was ready to cry. "They were so pretty. Such nice and vicious eyes they had--and hoods to keep out the sun." Then, she did something Lilah found especially unnerving. Her arms reached out. Gently sinking to the floor, she wrapped both arms around Lilah's legs and began to cry. "Gone," she muttered, "the Sandman took them all away." And she keened.

It took Lilah a moment to react. Then she stroked the vampire's hair. "Shhhhh," she whispered, "its all right." For a split second she considered promising to get her more, but decided against it. "Its all right, Drusilla." And continued stroking her hair.

"Alright then." She seemed to relax a bit now. Even moved her head a little in response to Lilah's stroking. It felt pleasant enough, doing this. So of course she was extra wary.

Tara enjoyed the ride back to Faith's apartment. Wesley drove. Faith promised to meet them there. The air between Slayer and Watcher was thick enough Tara didn't even mention the fact she wouldn't be able to enter the apartment until Faith did get back. Meanwhile, she leaned back and quietly revelled in Willow's presence next to her.

"I do apologize," Wesley said. Very proper to the last. Even if he had managed to unloosen remarkably in the last year and a half. Tara remembered when no one had been able to stand him. "As you've probably already discerned, Faith is more than upset over Gunn's death."

"Yeah," agreed Willow. "I mean, its not like she's ever had a lot close friends, I know. Plus with losing Buffy. Must be awful."

"Actually," said Wesley after a moment, "its a bit more complicated than that." He left his words hanging.

"Perhaps." Wesley nearly squirmed. He clearly felt uncomfortable talking about Faith's private life. Yet just as clearly he also believed it necessary.

"Faith and Gunn," he said finally, "they had not--so far as I've been able to gather--grown quite as...as close...as you may have been led to believe. Yet to me at least, they were clearly on the road to precisely that level of...of..."

"Yes. Were it not for Buffy's loss, if fact, I do believe they'd have become fully involved some time ago. Faith, however, needed time. Gunn understood that. Then...this happened."

None of them said anything else for the rest of the drive. What else was there to say, really? Tara held Willow's hand tighter, but no words were actually spoken. Instead, they simply travelled in silence. Wesley, arguably the most alone, drove deliberately and parked the car expertly. All three of them made their way through the lobby and up the stairs. Part of Tara wondered at how Faith could afford a place like this. Then she remembered--it was supposed to be haunted. Or had been until Faith had moved in. Seems the ghost in question had disliked attractive young women, driving them to suicide at every opportunity. Then, Faith arrived. She didn't know the details, but Tara gathered the ghost was gone.

They hoped to find Faith waiting for them. Instead, a blond woman in a suit was leaning on the wall beside the door. She had collar-length hair, looked fairly haggard and to Tara was clearly a police officer. And she recognized Wesley, as he did her.

"I don't come to see you and yours for pleasure." Lockley took them all in as she spoke. "This is about the murder of one Charles Gunn."

"Forgive me, Detective," Wesley's politeness never wavered but some steel crept into his voice, "but I thought I'd met the officers assigned to that case. And you weren't one of them."

"I don't think so. And a simple phone call to your precinct would, I believe, confirm my belief."

At first, she didn't reply. Then she took a step. "This isn't about belief, is it Mr. Wyndham-Price? Its about what's really going on. The kind of stuff most cops never have to think about, just like most people don't have to think about them. But they're real. We both know that. Dark, weird, hungry things you're involved with up to your stiff neck. You and Faith." She nearly snarled the name. "Too bad for you I'm in the know as well. And I'm not going away, no matter what you think."

She didn't wait, but headed away from the door. Tara noted several things as she passed. One was that she had dark circles under her eyes. Detective Lockley plainly hadn't slept well in a long time. More, every trace of body language she had was that of a cornered animal. In other words, she was desperate. To Tara, that made her dangerous beyond words.

Then, she stopped. She stared at the one-eyed Tara, clearly suspicious. Tara looked back at her, knowing here was some one who Knew. And quite understandably, this knowledge colored every single fact in her life. Because of that, Tara deliberately breathed in her presence. If she could have generated body heat she would have. Or somehow gotten a tan.

Barely noting Willow's words, Lockley continued to stare at Tara. She reached up and began to finger something around her neck. Something on a chain.

A cross. Tara willed herself not to react. Lockley meanwhile pulled the cross out, making it very visible to Tara. Very. And watched for a reaction.

Eyes narrowing, Lockley replied after a moment. "I doubt it." She leaned in, cross forward.

"Hey!" Willow stepped in between. "Only invading personal space here!" Some part of Tara was amused by this--a human defending a vampire from another human. But that was pretty much eclipsed by observing the expression of Lockley's face. Confirmation.

Chapter 2

Willow checked her watch for the twentieth time in as many minutes. She knew that was not a wise thing to do, that it only served to fuel the suspicions of Detective Lockley, watching them all like some kind of predatory bird, but she couldn't help it. Faith should have been back by now. That had been her promise. All of them had been waiting for hours, a fact made still more tense by the detective's presence.

"Excuse me?" For a brief moment Willow thought she meant Buffy's sister. Then she realized what Lockley meant. "Uh, yeah. It'll be dawn pretty soon, I guess."

Coughing, Wesley stepped forward. "I think" he said "we have to face the fact that Faith is unavoidably detained. Best for us to adjourn to my digs. Willow, Tara--shall we go? Oh, and Detective Lockley, when and if we see Faith next, we'll be sure to let her know of your interest." He then gestured toward the stairs.

Nodding to Tara, Willow made to follow Wesley out of the hall and back to the car. But Lockley stepped into their path.

"Truthfully? We're all terribly tired and would like to sleep. Might I suggest you get some rest as well? You look rather exhausted."

"Cute. Why not stick around awhile? I mean, you've waited all this time--and besides, you can watch the sun come up from the roof. Don't tell me you want to miss that."

"We're not big morning people," offered Willow, kicking herself mentally before the words were all the way out of her mouth.

"Hi Everybody!" Faith ran up from the stairwell, out of breath. Her clothes were dusty, a scrape marred her cheek and a deep scratch still bled from her arm. There was even mud on her boots. She came to an abrupt stop, taking in the scene before her. Detective Lockley's expression seemed to give her pause, as did Wesley's. But she whipped out her keys with hardly a pause, heading for the door.

Faith swung open her front door. She turned back to the assembled folks behind her. "Wesley, Tara, Red--come on in! Kate--I'd invite you in but, well, I don't want to."

Tara went straight inside. Willow followed, noting how Wesley continued to stare down Detective Lockley. After another few moments, she turned to leave, but clearly not surrendering in any way. She'd be back, Willow could tell. More, they all knew it. But Willow pushed that thought to the side, joining Tara in carefully shutting the blinds in Faith's apartment. They had time until sunrise, but taking chances seemed like a bad idea. At least it did to Willow. She had a suspicion Faith in her situation might just leave the blinds open until the last possible fraction of microsecond.

"Not as much as you'd like, I"m afraid." Wesley's voice was still, low. In other words, he was angry. Faith caught the nuance, but deliberately headed away from him.

"My fear," continued Wesley as Faith headed to a door (the bathroom, Willow assumed), "is that might be literally true."

Willow thought for a moment Wesley was going to explode. Instead, he stepped forward and whipped off his glasses. Faith's eyes were blazing, but for once her Watcher's were a match for her. "If by chill you mean go back on my word, endanger all of us as well as looking for someone else to help you commit suicide--then, no, I will not chill. And neither should you! Perhaps you hadn't noticed--but Kate Lockley has met Tara now, and because you weren't here when you said you were, she knows what she is!"

"You went out looking to be delayed! What was it this time, I wonder? An incarnation of the demon Azorath? Or perhaps a roving band of a few dozen Prekians? No, what was I thinking--I'm sure if you tried really hard you could find armies of the Misquot Clan and Serpavos hacking at each other with enough frenzy to satisfy even you!"

Now Faith slumped in feigned nonchalance. "Nah. Just a couple of vamps raiding that homeless shelter. One blonde bitch who was a good fight, but once I dusted her, the rest scattered."

"As a matter of fact," Faith's eyes faded a bit, "yeah. It was." Then she turned and went into the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind her.

"Lilah!" Holland Manners rose as she entered his office. A servant was finishing up the last touches of an elaborate breakfast. The Vice President for Special Projects gestured towards the feast. "Care to join me?"

"Thank you, sir." Lilah especially eyed the coffee. She'd been up at work late, and came in early this morning. Not quite as early as Holland, unfortunately.

Both lawyers sat at what amounted to a lavish, if small, dining table. Quiche and hot fresh croissants were served, along with freshly cut fruit. The coffee, poured into beautiful china cups, was excellent, as well the cream.

"I'm due to give the Senior Partners a briefing on your progress with Drusilla," noted Manners. "Any insights you care to share?"

Lilah collected her thoughts for a moment. "She is of course an extremely powerful vampire, sir, made more-so because of her obvious insanity. I'm told her symptoms match that of a fairly straightforward schizophrenic, by the way."

Holland Manners chewed on a croissant and nodded. "The file made me think of Ophelia."

She took a bit herself, giving herself a moment to choose her words. "But I also get the impression she needs direction, that some part of her actually seeks it out. A mind like hers can hardly plan a shopping trip much less any kind of long-term plan..."

"Don't underestimate the power of intuition, Lilah. Still, your point is well taken."

"The best approach it seems to me is to offer that kind of direction, to help her in the goals she herself sets. And, when need be, help her set those goals."

"Well, an experienced and very dangerous child, but--more or less. Right now her most precise goal is revenge against the Slayer Faith for her destruction of Spike."

"Her love, yes." He nodded. "I'm more and more convinced we made the right choice in assigning you to this part of the project. So I shall report to the Senior Partners." Now he took a sip of coffee, carefully wiping his mouth when done. "Since you'll be continuing, there are certain aspects of the matter you'll be needing some briefing on. Indeed, the whole matter of the Slayer has just been upgraded."

"Excellent. You'll be working more closely with Lindsay McDonald as a result. That's no problem I trust?"

"Not at all." Oh great. As if playing mommy to a psycopathic demon wasn't enough of a burden. "I look forward to it."

Holland leaned forward. "You'll need to pull the file on The Vampire With A Soul. Several prophecies and other sources speak of this figure, but that his or her role in upcoming events is somewhat ambiguous. Naturally, we want to shape that role. Until relatively recently, the identity of this specific vampire was pretty much known, or at least assumed. Have you ever heard of Angelus?"

"Precisely. Several decades later he fed upon a member of a rather high-powered Gypsy tribe, high-powered in terms of magical ability anyway. They enacted a subtle revenge. In order that he might suffer for all time, these gypsies cursed Angelus with the return of his soul--so that he might be tormented with guilt forever."

"That's what's so intriguing. Angelus was destroyed a few years back. Before, I might add, any of the events he was supposed to have shaped. Frankly, that threw even the Senior Partners. No less than seven of our top translators and psychics were summoned to the home office to explain their failure. Of course," he added unnecessarily, "they did not return. Not whole, anyway. Last year, however, Lindsay managed to discover an important clue vis-a-vis the prophecy."

In response, Holland took out a grainy photograph from a file to the side. He handed it to Lilah, who saw it was of a blonde young woman with an eyepatch. "Her name is Tara McClay."

He nodded. "Relatively young. But created by the same vampire who made Darla, the Sire of Angelus himself. Tara was wooed to work for us about a year ago. She'd proven a very skilled individual in many ways, one of those rare nosferatu capable of thinking beyond the next meal. Tara turned out to be romantically obsessed with a human girl approximately her own age."

"That's what makes this so interesting. No, she's not. What's more, she and Tara have entered into a relationship akin to a marriage."

"Not generally, although the notion does present some intriguing possibilities. Thank you." Holland jotted down a note. "A quite skilled magic user in her own right, Willow Rosenberg--that's her name--is a human being, in love with and also loved by, the vampire Tara McClay. In other words, Tara is a vampire who has indeed got a soul. Just not her own."

Holland nodded. "Confirmed by several shamans using their most reliable forms of soothsaying. And these two arrived in Los Angeles last night. Both, it seems, are friends of Faith."

She couldn't help it. Lilah's eyebrows shot up. "A vampire and a Slayer are friends?"

"Now that they are here, certain counter-measures have been authorized. In fact, you'll need to free your schedule fairly soon to attend a ritual."

"Night, actually. And I'll send you a memo when its confirmed. Suffice to say, we are regarding these events as an opportunity. One that may benefit you very, very much. Providing you can continue to maintain a friendly relationship with Drusilla?"

"That's what I like to hear." He glanced at his watch. "Oh. I'm due." Holland stood. "Please, finish your meal. And believe me--you have my full support. A shame all our undead clients can't be as cooperataive as the late Russell Winters, but look upon this as a way to stretch you wings. It'll be prepping you for flying higher and further as times goes by." With a final wipe of crumbs from his lips, Holland left the office.

Left Lilah pondering stakes that had just risen. Without warning. So what else was new. Vampire With A Soul. Interesting. Personally, she had trouble imagining anyone sane entering into a relationship with a demon who can't help but look upon you as food. After a few hours in Drusilla's company, she could sense the charisma, certainly. But didn't this Willow person have an sense of self-preservation?

Faith simply did not sleep well. Drifting into gentle slumber was something she remembered from years past. Before puberty, before her looks had become an issue, before learning how different she was from others and then finding out she didn't know the half of it because she was the Chosen One, destined as the one girl in all the world to fight the demons and vampires.

These nights she slumped into an unconciousness that recharged her batteries. Every few days or so she'd work herself into such a state specifically to get some rest. Combat worked wonders in that direction. Better than sex. Usually.

It should have worked. Beating the crap out of a Demon Biker Gang should have been exactly what the proverbial doctor ordered. Even with the intervention by Wesley and friends, it had still be a great fight. But here she was, nearly awake. No, fully awake. Damn. She blinked. Even the darkness wasn't complete enough to help her sink into lovely, temporary oblivion. A golden glow peaked out from the windows. With nothing to do but stare at the ceiling, listening to the urban sounds of Los Angeles.

Worse, she had dreamed. Faith hated her dreams, especially the delicious kind, and really loathed them when their memories failed to evaporate. Hope, she'd heard somewhere (a movie?), was a dangerous thing. Maybe. She thought of it as painful. Dreams of a blonde hair falling on perfect shoulders, of kisses she longed for and never had, of her own strength meeting/dancing with equal strength...

Yet being wide awake, and troubled by half-remembered dreams, Faith had nothing to do save lie on her bed. Traffic wasn't too bad in this part of L.A. Neither was it invisible. With an effort of will, she could focus on those sounds and by listening, forget. Now would become everything. Empty yesterday--gone. Lonely tomorrow--the same.

It took her nearly five minutes to realize she wasn't hearing cars driving by or helicopters overhead. For one thing, these were closer. Much. In fact, they came from the front room.

Silently as she could manage Faith peeled the covers off her body and rose out of bed. Naked, she tip-toed across the room to the door of her front room. She waited at the door, on the balls of her feet. And listened.

Every sound hurt, but Faith wasn't slightly tempted to cover her ears. Scream, maybe. She did neither. Did this make her a pervert? No. A voyeur, maybe. But that's not a perversion. Not a real one. Real perverts were... She didn't let her mind go any further in that direction. Instead, she listened harder. Closing her eyes helped. It let her ignore everything except the sounds from behind the door.

The futon creaked in a steadily growing rhythm. And the little moans--in two different voices--matched that rhythm. Other sounds accompanied. In her mind's eye, Faith matched each one to an image. The tap of a foot against the hardwood floor, its fellow nudging against the side of the futon. Sheets pushed aside by slowly flailing arms. Was that a kiss? Yes. But where? Upon the lips? The throat? Nipple? The moan that kiss evidently earned set her imagination soaring. It began low, even guttural, but rose over an eternal few seconds to a higher pitch. Nor did it end for another several seconds.

Behind closed eyes, Faith imagined a bare muscled back in its entire length. She knew the next room was dark, and easily called to mind how shadows sharpened other senses. Her dreams came unbidden to mind--blonde hair waiting for the caress of her cheek, legs eager to twine with her own.

In unison, by coincidence or rhythm or something else, Faith bit her own lip just as a gasp rang out from behind the door. She bit harder. Her tongue gently sucked upon her own lip. In imagination, she both bit and was bitten. Sucked and was suckled upon. Abruptly--yet from a distance--she found her hands exploring herself in lieu of a real lover. Head against the door, she continued to listen. They didn't know it, but Red and Patch had a third partner, who moved in unison with their music--and for once simply let herself dream of blonde hair and kisses deep enough to draw blood.

Lilah looked up from the files on her desk to the un-surprising but un-welcome face of Lindsay McDonald. He stood at her door and swept inside without permission. Oh, great.

Not that he wasn't good at his job. In fact, as far as getting a partner for any specific project the firm had in mind she couldn't think of anyone she'd rather have as backup. Or at least there wasn't anyone else she'd prefer--maybe that was a better way of putting it. What Lindsay's problem was that he tried to take control of things, and succeeded just often enough to keep her wary.

"Everybody runs--either towards or away," he finished. True enough. "Which way did you?"

"Gutsy of you," he said, nodding. He then gestured at the tiny mountain on her desk. "How up to speed are you on this whole Vampire-With-A-Soul thing?"

"Or why they let you live after helping the Slayer ruin some of their other plans? Remember, one of the reasons I was called in was to help deal with your ex-girlfriend."

Lindsay shrugged. He still had a soft spot for the Slayer. "We still have hopes for her. The girl's got a dark side."

"Not dark enough. Still, she dumped you. At least she isn't too dumb." Lilah's phone rang. As she answered it, the temptation to fire off just one was too strong. "On the other hand, she dated you, so she can't be too bright either." Into the phone. "Lilah Morgan here."

The voice that answered was low, childlike and frightening. "I just got some news."

"Oh." Lilah tried very, very hard not to react. This was a client, after all. Besides, Lindsay was watching. "Do tell."

"Such a naughty Slayer. First my Spike. Then she went and killed my sister. All she wanted to do was have some fun at the shelter, and the Slayer killed her. Jimmy is terribly upset." There was a sing-song quality to the way she said all this. Lilah could easily picture Drusilla swaying back and forth while speaking.

"My brother." Her voice changed, becoming that precisely certain thing that reminded Lilah of how prophets and oracles were supposed to sound. "With poor Elizabeth gone, he doesn't have anything to do but kill the girl." Lilah could swear she heard Drusilla smile. "I killed a Slayer once."

"What's Jimmy going to do, Drusilla?" With a look, she told Lindsay this was important. They'd almost certainly have to check with Holland Manners about precisely what should be done. "Drusilla?"

Drusilla's low chuckle echoed over the phone line. It was a sound that brought to mind all kinds of disturbing images. Torture chambers for children. Screams arranged as a symphony. Orgies of spiders creating new species in a cannibalistic frenzy. Vast puppet shows meticulously recreating the Holocaust for audiences of war orphans. Dull dentistry tools. Underage gynacologists. "Lost his heart, Jimmy did" whispered the vampire.

She waited nearly three whole seconds before putting the receiver down. At this point the cliche Something Has Happened came to mind, but that didn't really convey the magnitude of what she sensed. The insane beauty named Drusilla clearly thought here was a special circumstance. Jimmy was presumably James, another of Angellus' progeny according to the files. As for Drusilla's sister, Lilah recalled James had spent his entire undeath with a female vampire named Elizabeth. Nearly two centuries together. Impressive. More than one witness reported them as an utterly devoted pair. Like James and Drusilla, Elizabeth had been made by Angellus. Which made her identity nearly certain, If the Slayer had killed her, she would now be the focus of the survivor's berserk rage. Faith had proven herself good. Very good. Good enough to go up against an elder with nothing left to lose? What must that be like, Lilah wondered? To be so devoted to another that centuries together would be too short?

Damn. Lindsay. Still here. And keeping this a secret from him was something she just couldn't get away with, not when the call came through Wolfram and Hart's own system. Naive to even hope the call wasn't monitored.

Chapter 3

Willow wasn't surprised Faith was cranky. She'd known the Slayer long enough to know that was pretty much her standard operating system when first awake. Faith stalked out of her bedroom, glowered at all things through barely-open eyelids, made sounds more akin to snarls than anything like speech. Willow got out of her way. Tara, she was relieved to note, did the same. Faith swung into the kitchen, then headed straight for a large, battered chair. In her hand was a mug of fresh black coffee.

With a snort, Faith swallowed more coffee. Willow was expecting a snarl, or at least a cutting remark of scalpel proportions. The words that actually followed were a surprise. "So what have you two been doing with yourselves?"

For one horrible micro-moment Willow feared Tara might tell her. "We only got up a little while ago ourselves."

"If I'd known you were..." Faith said suddenly, then stopped, "Well, if Wesley had warned me you were on your way, I'd've stocked up on blood."

"That's fine, I'm not hungry." Tara did not elaborate. Willow herself managed to quell the impulse to shift slightly in her seat. Experience told her the tiny wounds on the inside of her thigh would heal quickly. But meanwhile, they itched. Not at all an unpleasant reminder, all things considered. But private. Way private. About as private as private could be, especially given the fact it was all about...privates.

"I know some butchers who sell blood. A way to keep track of the local vamps, y'know. They seem a lot sneakier here in LA for some reason."

"Why? Does it do things to vampires?" asked Willow. Funny, she'd never really thought of it before. Now she didn't like where those thoughts headed.

"More like it attracts certain types. Just like demons--in a major city you're much more likely to come across demons who don't really want to bother anyone. Like the Host at Caritas?"

"Hey!" Willow didn't mind the nickname Faith bestowed on her--Red--because there wasn't anything really objectionable about it. She wasn't about to argue she didn't have red hair, for instance. But a constant reminder of an event that must have caused Tara loads of physical pain wasn't something she wanted coming out of anyone's mouth, even Faith's. She opened her mouth to object further when Tara's hand touched her own.

Willow's jaw nearly dropped. She hadn't realized Tara even knew the Scoobies had used to call her that--that Willow herself had used that nom-de-guerre for the new vampire in town. Until she'd learned the girl's name.

"Anyway," Tara continued, turning to Faith, "I was wondering about Kate Lockley."

"Oh her," Faith said. "The amazing Issue Girl--able to irritate and get in the way with a single word."

Faith sighed. She took another swallow of coffee. "Kinda inevitable, Red. Last year her dad got seriously dead thanks to some vamps. She went all ballistic. I saved her, dusted the vamps who did it, but she's been throwing attitude at me ever since. Wes says its all about unresolved rage or displaced aggression, junk like that. Whatever. Anyway, she's gotten super-sensitive about anything smacking of the supernatural ever since. Been jonesing for a crusade or something."

"Because she's real, real, real pale for one thing. Hey, Patch--when was the last time you were in the sun?"

"So you've got slightly more tan than a white sheet. Believe me, that sets off alarms with Miss Kate. Then she probably tried to test you in some way, am I right??

"Yeah, that's her m.o." Faith sighed. "Wes thinks maybe she figures I'm some kind of demon, too."

"Yep." The phone rang. Faith picked up the receiver. "Hello?" The look on her face said Faith was less than happy at hearing the voice on the other ends. "What do you want?...Really?...And I should care because?...Okay, okay. Yeah, that's bad news, I guess. Yep, consider me warned. Thanks a bunch." Faith hung up with some finality.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact. And it shouldn't be hard for you to remember him. I mean, how many guys have you actually dated?"

Willow blinked at this. Tara dating a guy? When Tara herself nodded, she got even more confused.

"Uh...guys?" Willow tried to keep her voice from whining. "Who's Lindsay McDonald?"

Vampire and Slayer looked at each other. Oh, Willow hated it when people shared secrets but not with her. Especially Tara. Not that she didn't keep secrets now and then, but she always had good reasons and why was the Love Of Her Life going off dating men anyway? And how come Faith knew about it?

"Uh-huh." Let her explain, Rosenberg, just hear her out. No doubt she has a good reason. There's probably a simple explanation. Has to be.

"One of the lawyers at Wolfram and Hart. Its a law firm that specializes in the supernatural, mostly of the really dark variety."

"Awhile back," added Faith, "every part-time wizard in town was getting hired to perform rituals of placating for dark powers. I finally tracked it down--turned out all the associates were under review by the senior partners at Wolfram and Hart, doing their best to come out of it alive. Later, I found out one of them gave up her first born."

"No one knows," answered Tara, "but they have plenty of demons working for them."

"Plus their clients include half the major corporations in the state," added Faith. "And most of the real bigwigs in organized crime."

"So," began Willow after a moment, "what were you doing with him?" She looked at Tara, who hesitated.

Out of the corner of her eye, Willow saw Faith do exactly what she was thinking of doing--a take.

Tara shrugged in a it-made-sense-at-the-time kinda way. "Remember that was right after the Apostate died. I was looking for something to do. Being the favorite of a demon-loathing elder waging a war on hell did have at least one advantage--focus. Without him, I went looking for work."

"Yes." Tara said it quietly, looking directly at Willow as she did it. "Away from you. Because for all practical purposes you were confusion incarnate. I'm a vampire. You're human. And friend to not one but both Slayers. I thought...well, maybe working for Wolfram and Hart would give me that focus again."

Silence lay in the room for a time. It was Faith who broke it. "So what happened?"

"I sang a song. And the Host told me my destiny." Her hand found Willow's, who tried not to grin like an idiot. And failed.

Faith stood up. "Okay, Lindsay said the vamp I wacked last night has a boyfriend. And he's jonesin' for some payback."

Lilah Morgan swallowed the dregs of her fifth cup of coffee. The coffee pot was large, surrounded by now with over a dozen used cups. When fresh, the brewed liquid inside had been strong enough to snap a hibernating bear into consciousness. Now, hours and hours later, it might qualify as battery acid.

She could feel herself on edge, but with too little sleep something had to be done. Leaning against the wall, she took in the scene of the conference room which had been given over to her. A variety of odd (some very odd) people were pouring over a variety of scrolls, books, journals and at least one pile of thin bronze tablets.

These occult scholars needed to be watched. Left to themselves, nine out of ten would dive into some esoteric piece of mystic fine print that offered the hope of solving some personal obsession. Johnson, for example, wanted to turn his mother back into a human being. To Lilah, this made Johnson not only irritating but also pathetic. She'd never been close to her own mother, so that part of it wasn't really applicable. Her father, on the other hand--or Aunt Ceelee. Alright, imagine one of them had gone trying to steal jewels from a gorgon's cave (Dad? No. Ceelee? Possibly--but they'd have to be damn fine jewels) and gotten petrified for their trouble. Would Lilah have been upset. Sure! Enough to try and find some kind of cure? Probably. But after the first couple of decades Lilah felt sure she'd've learned to cope. Johnson's thirty year quest merely confirmed him as an epic momma's boy in her opinion.

Diane Vickers wasn't much better, with her efforts to finally translate some scroll supposedly written in Vl'hrg on the hide of a unicorn. Right. Or Rocelli's endless re-calculations about the birthing cycle of cthonians.

Holland Manners breezed into the conference room, smiling his we're-all-one-team smile. "Lilah? Any news on the Congressman's nephew?"

"A few solid leads, sir," she replied, acutely aware the lead was solitary and tentative to be really optimistic, "but nothing nailed. Not yet, anyway." She looked at Endicott as she said this, thinking about how he'd react to being the one nailed. Literally. Mildly telepathic, he blanched and bent further over the tome he was perusing.

"Good, good" murmured Holland. "Listen, what with this Vampire With A Soul business your workload has increased quite a bit. At least for now." He lowered his voice. "Tomorrow night is important, and not just for the firm and the project. I'm speaking of your career, Lilah. You realize our visitor offers some real opportunities?"

"And you're not one to shy away from such, I know." He grinned. No, smiled. A warm, comforting smile that seemed to ooze goodwill. Holland was nothing if not a master liar. "But for that you'll need to be at your best. Well-rested, for one thing. So the firm has arranged for a room in a nearby hotel. Not five star, sorry to say, but four is not something to dismiss." In his extended hand was a hotel room key. Lilah took it. Not that she had much choice.

Lilah watched Holland leave the room, sweeping out like a Vizier having just checked on the progress of his master's pyramid. Which wasn't too far from the truth. She tapped the key against her hand. Now what was the real reason for this largesse? The phone would be bugged, naturally. Would the room be secretly videotaped? Most likely. But why? Holland clearly was in on this, but try as she might Lilah couldn't figure out what the goal here might be. Of course, the possibility existed this was simply a ploy to increase her loyalty to the firm. No, that didn't feel right. Had she been a squeaky clean associate--but Lilah's hands by now were not only dirty they had blood on them. So what was the goal?

It was Johnson, all two hundred seventy five pounds of him. As usual, wearing clothes both shabby and too small. Why, if he was going to let himself go like that (which was his business, after all), couldn't he buy clothes that fit?

Faith hardly had to touch Merle before he squealed. Literally. Somehow that seemed right, coming out of a scaly green man with red eyes wearing a luoa shirt. God knew, with that outfit, he deserved whatever she dished out.

"I am!" He looked around him. Behind Faith stood Red and Tara, offering support but mostly just letting her intimidate Merle into spilling whatever he knew. His lair--if you could call it that--hadn't been hard to find. Not that he really tried to hide it. A grungy studio apartment near Hollywood might not be the usual haunt for demons, but for a demonic stool pigeon it somehow seemed right. The tacky decor fit, somehow (although the inguana head scotch-taped to the body of centerfold was a detail Faith refused to contemplate).

"Word on street is somebody's organizing all the bloodsuckers in town. No offence." This last was aimed at Tara, who shrugged. "Details are not what you'd call common, but some folks noticed the vampire population over in Santa Monica has been on the increase...OW!" Faith slammed him up against the wall again.

"Nobody give a crap about that!" She hit him a few more times for emphasis. "James! Vampire! Blond girlfriend got gacked last night?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah--I heard something about him. Oh, man. If what I heard about him is right, you are in one mess of trouble."

Merle nodded. "There's this, see" he said, "a slod demon. Into collecting body parts."

"But there's one thing he's got a hard time collecting. Vampire hearts. 'Cause the only way he can get them is if the vampire in question agrees to let him take it."

"You'd be surprised! The way the doc does it, see, the vampire becomes pretty much indestructible as a result. Not that its permanent, of course, 'cause after a while the vamp gets a serious case of real death, but for a little while there..." He shrugged.

Faith leaned in. Merle leaned back, hit his head against the bare brick wall, but still managed to back up some more. "And what's all this got to do with this James guy?"

"Word is, he went looking for the Doc last night. Right after his lady vampire went all poof-like."

Several seconds passed, while Faith took in what he'd said. Great, she thought, not only is another vampire pissed at me, he maybe went and made himself super-vamp. Doesn't my life just keep getting better?

"Where do you think he'd go?" Red asked this low, but in the silence it might as well have been a shout.

Ten minutes later, Faith was driving and trying to seem cheerful "Here we go!" It took effort, but she did it. Privately, she thought heading over the shelter this long before sundown was probably overkill. Hell, it could've been worse than that for Tara, but she was prepared. Her long green coat had a very full hood, with matching gloves reaching nearly to her elbow. Red hovered nearby with an umbrella. Just in case. Not a bad idea. Even though the windows on Faith's car were tinted.

Faith paused. She waited. Then shot a look at Red. She waited again before saying anything. "You trying to suggest something?"

"I..." she didn't quite stammer, but the basic impulse was there. Red even squirmed a little. "Not anything specific or anything I just thought maybe this was one of your sources for demony activity and stuff."

"Yeah, sometimes." Might as well make nice. "Turns out the chick who runs the place knows about vampires and stuff. No surprise, there--she's from Sunnydale."

Another pause. Timing was everything. "Unless she's dyed her hair." Wait for it. "Or had plastic surgery." She could almost hear Willow's eyes grow huge.

"I take it," said Tara suddenly, "you want to be waiting for James when he shows up?"

"Yep. Even if he can take daylight, its gotta be weird for him. Great thing about fighting vamps--there's this really big home court advantage half the time. You know?"

Just then, they came within sight of the shelter. Faith felt tempted to take credit for this bit of timing, but knew this was actually something called dumb luck. Still, she was glad of it. The alley to the side was narrow, the buildings on each side high enough to provide shade. Even with hooded coat and gloves, best to take no chances. Tara slid out of the car carefully, with Willow hovering. Faith watched them for a moment before leading the way inside. But they had to cross through sunlight to do it.

They walked swiftly around the corner, a few yards down the street, then up the steps the doors of the center. Faith knocked. Hard. She waited. Not patiently.

A woman with short, russet hair opened the door. Jeans. T-shirt. Leather jacket that looked like it had been through a couple of wars. She looked tough. Maybe twenty. Tougher than most. And her eyes beamed suspicion like laser beams. Especially behind, at Tara.

"Around. What is it?" She was looking at the hooded Tara, then back at Faith. "Your business?"

"Saving your ass, Captain Attitude. If a certain somebody was telling the truth."

"Really." She wasn't moving. And she had the relaxed tension fighters have, the one that says come and try me. Faith almost didn't mind. Yeah, this would be a good way to relax--especially after last night. Nothing like some good, blood-pumping violence to clear the system.

Good girl. She backed up. No reason to get anybody caught up in this. She shifted her stance a little. And Captain Attitude did the same. Yep, she knew what she was doing. Some, anyway. Probably thought she knew everything. Time for some lesson-giving.

From inside the center she came. Tall, walking with as much purpose as anyone she knew. Justine (presumably Captain Attitude's real name) relaxed. Slightly. Anne came up behind her. "Faith is a friend. She's the one I told you about." She managed to make every word an order.

Anne didn't hesitate. Eyes meeting Faith, then Willow, she said "Come on in. All of you."

Faith took a step forward, still kinda hoping Justine wouldn't back down. At the last moment she did, taking a step to the side and allowing all three inside. Did that make her smarter, or weaker? Both? Faith wasn't sure. Still, looking gift horses in the mouth and all that. Anne watched Justine until all three of them were inside. Then, the door shut. Around them was the low-ceiling hallway of a building that never made up its mind whether to be a storefront or an office. Now it was a homeless shelter.

"Faith, this is Justine. She just showed up today. From what she says, you two have a lot in common." Anne's authority was pretty much total here in the center. It showed.

"What did you say?" Her eyes nearly glowed. Or burned. "That was my sister's name. My twin sister."

"She was killed. Drained of all her blood." Justine almost snarled, her eyes fixed on Tara.

"I don't hunt vampires," Justine corrected her. "I kill them." Eyes still on Tara. Damn.

"Really?" Willow smiled, trying no doubt to play peacemaker. Good luck. "Tara and I have a lots of experience when it comes to hunting demons of all varieties!"

"Speaking of vamps," Faith interrupted, "that's what we're here about. Remember the blonde from last night? Seems she had a boyfriend. And he is pissed."

"Its a good working hypothesis," chirped in Willow. "Cause this is a place where he knows Faith was at least once, and pretty recently too. So we figured he'd likely come here just to find stuff out if nothing else."

Something about the way she said it got everyone's attention. "If this guy really was in love, he might not care about going on. Should he be in that state, there exists a way for any vampire to become invulnerable."

"No way," said Justine. "Hey, if there were a bunch of super-vamps running around, we'd all know about it. Believe me, all the vampires in this burg are vulnerable. All of them."

But Tara shook her head. "The effect is temporary. Once it wears off--after a few hours--the vampire dies. For good. But this man, if he loved her the way he's supposed to, then he might feel like dying anyway..." She let her words trail off into silence. Her implication was plain enough for Faith to see. Yeah, without someone you loved, why not just die?

"Still isn't anything to worry about," said Justine after a few seconds. "Vampires don't love. They can't."

That's when a growling, snarling something tore the hinges off the front door. And roared. Oh yeah, and entered the place without an invitation, vampiric eyes all aglow and fangs bared.

Chapter 4

She recognized the furrowed brow and yellow eyes of a vampire--weird as that seemed with the sun directly behind him. He was young, or had been when turned, no more than twenty five. The demonic face and bestial noises clashed with his neat blonde hair and what looked like a nice suit--now dirty and ripped. One blow sent someone--the redhead who'd been shooting daggers at Tara--flying.

The next blow came from Faith. At least she thought so, as Tara had already moved in between danger and herself. Still, she'd seen Faith land that kind of swinging kick before. Sure enough, the vampire flew backwards. James--that was his name, right?--flew thorough the air out the door. Under the circumstances, she wasn't surprised when he didn't burst into flame.

"Slayer!" he growled, getting up. "I'm going to make you beg for death." He strode towards the building.

Faith and Tara this time acted as one. Once he got well inside, away from any direct sunlight, they both reached for him and each grabbed an arm. After all, he might be invulnerable but he wasn't any stronger than he used to be, right? Willow hoped she was right. Seeing how both Tara and Faith, with their combined strength, managed to hold him--barely--she began feeling even more hope.

Until the redhead ran up and drove a stake into his heart. She hit hard enough he fell back, out of Faith's and Tara's grasps. Landing on the vampire, she actually pounded the stake deeper with her fists. For all the good it did--since he tossed her off of him with ease. Then yanked the wooden stake out of his chest. He looked at it for a moment, something like wonder on his face. A chuckle escaped his lips.

He looked around at those around him. Willow knew her own eyes were huge, and could see Tara and Faith as well as the other redhead stare and stare. The vampire tossed the stake aside. "I am," he said, "going to enjoy this."

"Ha! You believe your speed with be your salvation?" He pulled his fist out of the wall with a snort. "False hope can make the hunt very sweet. Go ahead and run. That will simply increase my pleasure!" His voice trembled, grew quiet. "The only pleasure left to me."

Justine didn't wait but tried immediately to attack the vampire. Her fist swung. Connected. James the vampire caught her wrist before she could strike him again. But instead of killing her or fighting back at all, he stared at her, then at Faith. He seemed to be studying Faith's reaction. Willow could swear he looked disappointed.

Before he could do anything else, Tara's blade was slicing through the air. Like a whispered scream, it made an arc, cutting through his neck in one clean blow. His head toppled to the floor. But his body didn't fall.

It let go of Justine. Then turned around. Headed towards the head now in the corner, eyes blazing and fangs hissing.

"Hey!" It was Anne, calling out from the back of the building. She had a door open.

"Come on!" Tara grabbed Willow's hand. Faith scrambled to her feet, following them to the back of the building. Willow simply had to look back as she ran. Sure enough, the body's hands had finally reached the severed head and was struggling--with difficulty--to reattach it. An image that was seriously wrong, could not be anything except wrong, and Willow feared she'd never really manage to forget.

She ran. Fast. When they made it to the door, then into the stairway going down, Willow was terribly glad to see Anne bolt the door behind them.

"I know," answered Anne. "This way to the sewers!" She headed down. Faith shared a look with Willow and Tara, then followed. Oh goody. Another trek into the sewers. Not that she hesitated. Tara didn't either, but headed straight down, her hand holding Willow's in vise.

The pounding started less than a minute later. Another minute and they could hear the wood starting to crack.

The penthouse had been full of all the right people, toasting her with (very) expensive champagne. Holland Manners himself had made a speach in her honor, proudly presenting her with the key to a new corner office. Lindsay McDonald and Gavin Park had been smiling at her, or at least made grimaces in the shape of smiles. Both clearly seethed inside at her promotion, and that had certainly been fun. The fact each had been demoted at the same time she was kicked upstairs had also added a certain spice to the evening. Just look at it this way, she'd told them--at least you've each got a testicle left.

But after a few hours of having others bow and scrape, along with would-be gigolos among the associates viying for the honor of carrying her h'ordeuves, she felt tired. To more than one executive's surprise, she bowed out of her own party early. No less than seven people had offered to escort her home. She'd turned them all down.

Now here it was--her apartment. How did she get here again? Right--a limo. She thought her apartment a good place, a comfortable place. The decor was tasteful, understated, yet of surprising quality to anyone with the eye to know. Such was part of her apartment's function, to be more than it seemed.

She didn't realize that wasn't the case until the door was halfway closed behind her. Tired from the party, from a full week of hard work, from a boring drive home from the office, the candles hadn't at first registered. When they did, she really should have been afraid.

The dining room had been turned into a cathedral of tapered blue wax, maybe a hundred or more tiny flames casting flickering shadows in all directions. Yet they were artfully laid out. Lilah was in no danger as she entered. In fact, she was able to appreciate how carefully everything--not simply the candles--had been arranged. The silverware was delicate yet strong, placed to perfection on either side of china worthy of a queen. Or an empress.

"All for you." Coming from the kitchen, she was something of a vision. Tonight she wore midnight blue in silk that draped off her like smoke. And in her hands was the most elaborate caraffe Lilah had ever seen--baroque in silver and gold.

"I've been waiting for you." She said it with a little smile. "So thoughtful you were, to invite me here."

Her smile shared promises of secrets. Dark secrets. Powerful ones. "Thank you." She handed a glass to Lilah, who took it in hand, enjoying the touch of smooth glass.

She did. The wine was warm, spicy and left a sweet aftertaste on the tongue. "Brandywine." She hadn't had any in years.

"How long," panted Willow, causing an echo in the darkness, "is he supposed to last?"

"No kidding." Faith stopped. She'd been thinking about the situation and everything seemed pretty clear. Especially what had to be done. "Okay, listen up. We need to find somewhere with elbow room." Picking up the pace, she trusted they'd follow. Sure enough, in less than a second Anne and Tara were catching up, the latter dragging Red behind her.

"Hit him as many times and ways as we can--once he catches up. Cause he will." No response to that. Well, she hadn't expected any. For now, it was a matter of moving. Moving fast and moving far. They'd need some luck. Not much. Some. But with enough, they could hold him off until the magical whatsis wore off and he turned into a dust bunny. Yeah, there'd be some danger--but wasn't that what she liked? Always had? If she couldn't handle it, who could? And if she couldn't?

If she couldn't, then wasn't this the way she'd assumed would be her exit? Fighting tooth and nail against some vamp? This way, wouldn't it have at least one advantage--namely, she knew her opponent would go down too? Kinda poetic in a way. Go out killing a vamp. Not as wicked as the whole saving the world thing, but she'd had that. Killed a lotta vamps. Saved the whole world a couple of times. Not to mention lots and lots of people. Lots. Not as many as she'd've liked, though. Especially... But there were some more folks to save now. That'd be good, right? Okay one of them is a vampire, but its not like she's the same kind of vampire as the others. Right, Bee? You betcha. Okay, maybe Bee wouldn't've agreed. Totally. But still. Since when had she ever listened to Bee? Or vice versa?

Faith slowed for a moment. She wanted to get a bearing on where Ticked-Of-And-Toothsome was. One hand raised got the others to be quiet. She listened.

"SLAYER?" His voice was now a voice, not a growl. "I DON'T REALLY WANT TO KILL YOU AT ALL. NOT REALLY." A pause. Faith listened intently. Not far. That much was certain. "TWO HUNDRED YEARS, SLAYER. CAN YOU IMAGINE THAT? DO YOU THINK A SHORT-LIVED PIECE OF VERMIN CAN IMAGINE LOVE ON A SCALE LIKE THAT?" The steps were barely audible. His voice was lower. "A THOUSAND THOUSAND NIGHTS WE WERE TOGETHER. WE COULD HAVE HAD A THOUSAND TIMES THAT AGAIN. BUT FOR YOU!" The last word was nearly a hiss, echoing along the walls of the sewer. When it resumed, the fury in his words still boiled, but under pressure. The effect was to make each syllable a threat. But then, Faith already knew that they were. "THAT WHY I DON'T WANT TO KILL YOU. NOT YOU. WHAT I'D LIKE TO DO IS TO FIND SOMEONE YOU LOVED, SOMEONE WHO MADE THE WORLD SWEET, IN WHOSE EYES EVERY MOMENT OF ETERNITY SEEMED WORTHWHILE." In the distance, the vampire's voice actually cracked. "THEY SAID YOU LOVED SOMEONE. AND THAT YOUR LOVE WAS DEAD."

Tara could hear Faith's breathing become more ragged as she listened to the vampire's words. What he was trying to do was obvious--goad her into an attack. The fact he might believe what he said only made the tactic more likely to work. Unfortunately.

Faith turned around, her face twisted with rage. Before Tara could say anything, the dark-haired young woman was running past and back.

"Faith!" It was Anne, her hand reaching out to try and catch Faith, but missing in the dark.

"Oh god!" By now Tara knew exactly what every timbre of her lover's voice meant. Willow was afraid for her friend. Tara shifted Willow's weight to Anne.

"Hold her," she said, cupping Willow's cheek briefly before running after Faith. There were times, she thought to herself, she really regretted the fact Willow had a conscience. Like now. Having to keep a Slayer with a death wish from killing herself fighting an invulnerable monster with the same problem was one of those times. But she did, so Tara had to. And she really didn't have time for self-dialogue as she reached where vampire and slayer were already trading blows. Hard ones. Each was landing strikes in the masonry behind each other. James, presumably, was doing so out of habit. Being invulnerable, for now, he didn't really have to duck. He did anyway, and as a result the masonry behind him now sported cracks.

Do you really want to join in this fight, Tara thought to herself? An image of Willow's eyes answered that question quickly enough. Tara drew her sword and waded in.

What followed was blindingly fast. Tara didn't dare let James attack her from the left--her missing eye was a weakness that she'd never underestimated. He didn't seem to notice, though. All of his focus was on Faith. Okay. Made sense. But didn't that make him more vulnerable? A series of slices and cuts followed, fast as Tara could manage. Her opponent barely flinched, ducking or batting away, but more importantly giving Faith the opening she'd been looking for. A spinning kick, backed the more-than-human strength of a Slayer, connected directly into his head.

Not that it made much difference. He was up again in less than a second. Bracing himself, he simply took her next kick. And the one after that. The fourth never landed, as he caught her ankle with both hands. Grinning, he gave a vicious twist.

She did gasp, though. And blanch. Then she did both again as James pulled and pushed! Faith hit the ground with a thud.

Tara swung as fast as she could. The blade sliced into James, who shrieked with pain! He turned instantly, before her sword could penetrate further than an inch or two. More, his turn pulled the sword from her hands! It flew from her--and out of him. She heard the clank of it against the wall. But that barely registered as James grabbed Tara by the throat, lifting her.

"What's this?" Golden eyes like hers stared. "You--defend her? Why?" He cocked his head.

For her part, Tara waited. Time was her friend. Faith's as well. This vampire's invulnerability wouldn't last long. Time. Wait. And let time proceed.

James smiled. Not a pleasant sight. "I see! There were rumors--about a Slayer, beloved of a vampire!" Now he laughed. If anything, it was even worse. "Perfect! Better than I could have hoped for!" His laugh grew louder, even maniacal. But it ended in sobs that wracked his body. "Elizabeth..." he whispered, "for you, my love." Then, he lifted Tara high. And raised his other hand like a claw. "My heart is gone, Slayer! Now, I take yours!"

Lightning fast, that hand shot up towards Tara's chest. She realized what he was going to do and readied to try blocking the blow--before it went through her chest.

James shrieked, dropping Tara. He looked back, seeing a ragged Faith gasping from the effort of the throw. Without a pause, he ran over and picked up Tara's fallen sword.

Tara ducked. Barely. It took more to avoid his second strike. Rolling, she tried to get out of range--and failed. He pinned her to the floor, driving the blade through her torso like a collector adding another butterfly to his collection. Only this butterfly screamed--and did what only someone superhuman could. Rather than simply go into shock, Tara grabbed the uneven floor--and turned herself. She screamed with the effort, but managed to do what she'd set out to. The edge of the blade now pointed out of her, and with no bones in the way. Snarling with rage she began removing her own sword the hard way. Through herself!

James stepped on her, and pushed. "Gutsy," he chuckled. "Elizabeth would have liked you. See you both in hell soon enough!" With a single lightning move, he slid the katana out of Tara and readied it for the blow that would slice off her head. "SLAYER!" he paused long enough to growl, "NOW YOUR BELOVED DIES!"

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Zahir - zahir@brainlink.com

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

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