CoF - Zahir - Never the Twain?

From the shadow of the trees, Tara watched as Riley left the house, the Summers home. Not surprisingly, those parting from him at the door were Buffy Summers and her mother. She waited as the soldier (ex-soldier?) went to his car. One minute later, he was gone. And Tara herself had edged near enough to the front window for her to listen.

In the living room was what Tara thought of as The Core Group. Buffy herself, with Xander and Giles. And Willow. Buffy's mother was headed upstairs, obviously tired. Faith, looking exhausted, went ahead of her.

Neither Wesley nor Anya were anywhere to be seen. Somewhat amazingly, all of the Core Group appeared jazzed. They might have just awakened after a week's sleep instead of returning from a no-holds-barred combat with dozens of hellish monsters. Xander was even loading a video tape for them to watch--the first of a small pile. Clearly, none of them planned to sleep anytime soon. Indeed, all were settling down with popcorn.

Tara left them to their movie-fest. Winding her way through the (mostly) deserted streets of Sunnydale, she pondered her own behavior. She clearly found Willow attractive. Alright. There was no threat in admitting that. But more than attractive? Yes, that held several dangers. For one thing, demons and humans rarely mixed well. When they did, the demons in question were almost never her own type--predators who fed on something inherent in human flesh. In her case, blood. Beyond all the problems inherent in theoretical human/vampire relations, there were the difficulties involving this specific human and this equally specific vampire.

Willow was a friend to not one but two Slayers. Plus she showed signs of being a powerful witch.

Meanwhile, Tara herself was not simply a vampire. She too had some skills in magic, but more importantly she was the favored get of an ancient and powerful being with definite plans for her. Mentally comparing Willow to her sire made Tara shudder inside, at least slightly. The Apostate was--awesome. And evil.

It added up to making any fascination she felt for the red-haired witch a terrifically dangerous complication.

As Tara walked in the night that was her home, her ally and her feeding grounds, she pondered complications. What they might portend. Their costs. And what might--might--make such costs a worthwhile price she'd be willing to pay. Her walk back to the Apostate's lair took far longer than usual.

"Doesn't it seem kinda--too much?" Willow tried to relax in the seemingly vast space in the back of the limo. She nearly succeeded.

"C'mon, Red. Relax, already!" Faith and Buffy were seated across from her. Weirdly, both wore identical military fatigues. The ponytails (since when did Faith wear ponytails?) were a another touch that just seemed wrong.

True. But Willow found it hard to concentrate on Film History. For one thing, was a limo really the way she wanted to show up on the first day? And for another, the tinted glass was more like shiny black marble. Nothing at all was visible through it, making the interior of the limo somehow more unworldy. So she cracked open a window for a peek.

Glare. Near-blinding white light. Only a few details to be made out before she rolled the window up again.

Faith looked at Buffy. Then Buffy looked at Faith. "We don't know yet," they said in unison. Both resuming looking at Willow.

To her horror, Willow was late to class. She tried to sneak in, which wasn't too hard since the lights were out and the projector running. On the far wall flickering images of a movie were visible. That made sense.

A black and white image of Adam was in what looked like an equally black and white castle, surrounded by cheesy lab equipment. Wesley and Riley, in lab coats, stood to one side. The latter held Buffy in his arms. She was wearing a long elegant negligee.

"You go," grunted Adam on the screen, gesturing to Buffy and Riley. They made their way out. "You stay." He pointed to Wesley and another figure--a woman in long robes and weirdly high hair, tiny bolts sticking out of either side of her neck. Somehow the fact this woman was her mother didn't upset Willow so much as the fact she hissed.

Then the light came up. Willow blinked, certain she'd seen something scurry from behind the screen just as the credits had begun to roll. But then the nature of classroom registered, taking all of her attention for now.

She was on a soundstage, with a set in one corner and the rest filled with lights, cables, cameras, etc. The school desks of course didn't belong. But strutting in front of them all was Giles, in cavalry boots and a beret. "Right everybody! Enough homework. Time to shoot the climax of our film! If we get it right the very first time, then we'll be able to secure funding for the rest. If not, I'm afraid you'll all have to sell your kidneys on the black market. Any questions?"

Oz lifted his hand for recognition. "No, Mr. Osbourne we are not going to do THE WOLF MAN." Oz put his hand down. "Right! Then lets prepare. Everybody hide. Save for our star, of course. And the make up and costume people. Ladies and Gentlemen, a big hand for the lady upon whom all our hopes and dreams of happiness rest--Willow Rosenstein!"

"Uh...that's Rosenberg...guys?" At a gesture from Giles with his riding crop, Harmony and Cordelia picked up Willow's chair and carried it over to the makeup area, with Willow in it.

"Of course not," answered Cordelia as she put a sheet up to Willow's neck. "She's just pretending like always."

"Maybe that'll be enough." Harmony was now applying foundation to Willow's cheeks.

Willow was speechless at this last. She tried to talk but couldn't. And she could feel her eyes getting bigger.

"But, but...Why?" Willow finally found her voice. "I mean, if so much is riding on this, shouldn't you be showing me a script?"

Cordelia and Harmony looked at Willow as they might a pair of not-quite-right shoes.

Willow knew what to do now. Panic. In fact, she was just about to try fainting when Cordelia and Harmony pulled off the sheet and stepped away so she could see herself in the makeup mirror.

She was sheathed in black and red, including a far-too-tight corset that managed to create quite a bit of cleavage. This was an outfit she'd seen--in fact, worn--once before. Likewise they'd paled her skin and attached some kind of prosthetic to her forehead. Willow couldn't remember them doing that. But they must have. Just as they must have put in yellow contact lenses in her eyes and slipped fangs into her mouth. Otherwise, why would she look like a vampire?

Anya scurried up, Xander in tow. "Gotta get our star to the set!" said Xander happily.

"I could've played the lead, if only you hadn't slept with the director" hissed Anya.

"Wait! I didn't! Did I?" Willow was pulled along to what looked like a Victorian-era bedroom. The huge four poster had translucent red curtains. Buffy and Faith were escorting someone else onto the set. Tara. Only Tara was in a remarkably sheer white nightgown. Remarkably sheer. Able-to-be-remarked-about enough Willow could almost see her... No, she actually COULD see...

He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "You know, you can't possibly hide forever. Everyone already knows." Then he turned to everyone else and started speaking through a megaphone. "All right, everybody! This is it! Our long-awaited remake of the 'The Wizard of Oz' is about to begin." Willow gaped at him. "I personally think all the added gore and explicit sex scenes will make it irresistible as a family picture. Let's get rolling."

"Don't worry it'll all come to you," he said without focusing on her. "Just slink your way over to the bed, and bite your willing victim who even now eagerly awaits her demon lover."

"Not in this scene. But you have all of them in all the others. Hop to it!" As he was saying this, Giles placed Willow in a specific spot on the set, aiming her towards the bed. He then hurried off to check with Xander, operating the camera, and Oz doing sound.

Willow waited. She looked at the bed, and waited. After a moment or two, she began thinking about the scene and what she'd do. How to part the curtain. What Tara might look like, strewn across the sheets. Nightgown open at the neck. She allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to see desire in the vampire's face. Desire for her. Of course, for the purposes of the movie it was Willow who was the vampire.

Okay. This was it. Willow did her best attempt at slinking. In fact what she did was pretend to be her vampire self. Not too hard. The distance to the bed was not great, but every step seemed a mile at least. She hesitated at the curtains. Through them she could make out a shape, reclining on the bed. Tara. Waiting for her. For Willow. Her demon lover who would feed from her. Willow put one hand on the curtain, feeling the texture, its weight. Allowing herself a few moments to dwell on the fantasy, Willow imagined what it would be like, to pull Tara into her arms, to leap onto that body. Running her fingers along the curtain, she found the opening. Waiting for me, waiting for me, she thought to herself. Her hand gripped the curtain's edge. A tiny moan. From where? The bed.

Tara's dead body lay sprawled on the sheets, a wooden stake protruding from between her breasts. It looked obscene.

"Guy! Help me! Help!" she managed to gasp out as the strong figure pinned her down. It bit into her neck. And from that point a weary coldness spread through her body. Willow felt as if she was aging, withering, losing all of...what? Something important, that was certain. As she ceased struggling, faint echoes of despair were in her mind.

Tara watched Willow. She seemed distracted. The Slayers and their Watchers were off in the corner of the Bronze, talking with Doyle. Although they didn't really trust Tara, she realized they were willing to listen to her. So maybe her introduction wouldn't compromise the halfbreed with them. But Willow, getting a drink, wasn't looking at them. Her eyes were on Xander and Anya, dancing.

"Was I in it?" Tara nearly kicked herself for saying the first thing that came to mind.

"You were, yeah. I was a vampire and you were my victim. Only it wasn't realistic. All Hammer Horror-ish with the cleavage and stuff."

Tara could feel the ghost of a smile on her lips. She changed subjects. "Any idea when Buffy's boyfriend will be back?"

"So I guess me and Faith'll be spending more time together. We're the unattached ones. Except Faith's kinda a loner. And she doesn't really get the stuff I like."

After another few moments, Tara got up the nerve to ask "Would you like to dance?"

Chapter 8

Garbage dumps were one reason Tara was glad she didn't have to breathe. Like this one. Unfortunately, talking did require her to inhale so she remained silent. And hoped no one asked her any questions.

"No offense, Buffy," whispered Riley from several yards away, "but why is she here?" Being a vampire, Tara had little difficulty hearing this exchange. Also, little trouble figuring out who She was.

"We keep an eye on her. Besides. Wesley and Giles have this theory. I'll get them to explain later."

Tara thought to herself she'd try and eavesdrop on that conversation as well. Meanwhile, she circled another small hill of refuse. Mostly what she found was rats. Lots and lots of rats. Good to know if she was ever really hard up for blood. Really, really hard up. By now she was nearing another group in the party. Xander and his girlfriend Anya. Their whispers were just as easy to overhear from the darkness.

"Oh, yeah," Anya was going on, "blood sucking demons always hang out around Slayers, saving their lives even." Is anybody thinking about the demon that attacked Giles, Tara thought to herself? Isn't that why we're here?

"Like I said, she's got some kind of agenda. A secret plan. And I'm sure Buffy realizes that and is just biding her time." Not for the first time, Tara mused how Xander was much more intelligent than he let on. His theory was even right, as far as it went.

It was uncomfortable to hear that spoken so nakedly. Still, Tara got a little bit of a distracting pleasure as Xander tripped and fell. Anya of course helped him up again, amid various "ow's" over the pain and "ick's" over what he'd fallen into. Given that Anya's own arm was in a sling she did a good job.

Anya's hugging of him ended as she pulled away, wrinkling her nose. "You stink."

"DEEEEEMON!" Willow's voice echoed. Xander and Anya forgotten, Tara ran in that direction. Never mind going around the piles of garbage. Using supernatural strength she scrambled over them. There! Willow was running from a bald robed figure. He looked the color of charred wood, with with eyes and veins like lava. And in one hand was something like a staff, or maybe a wand. The staff rose and pointed at Willow, now racing in the direction of Buffy.

Tara was closer. She sprang into the space between the demon's staff and Willow. Just in time.

Willow expected to feel something all burning or maybe lightning-like, or both, especially after hearing the thunder-like discharge from the demon's staff. Behind her there was a flash of eldritch light. Yet nothing happened. The expressions on Buffy and Riley's faces coming up on her looked...odd.

Two figures were getting up off the ground. One she recognized easily enough as Tara. But she'd never seen Tara move so tentatively, to look around her so lost. The vampire looked at her hands and began to tremble. Willow took a step towards her then stopped as a strange sound came from Tara's mouth. It seemed to be a...sob?

Meanwhile the Other figure had launched itself at the demon with the staff. It was as if a bodybuilder had a rabid leopard jump on him. Snarling, the Other literally tore open the robed demon's throat. The slurping noises that followed were disgusting.

Watching this, Tara actually whimpered. Willow stared. Since when did vampires whimper?

Now the Other looked at them full on for the first time. Not a pleasant sight. Leathery dark skin with a v-shape of jagged horns along the forehead. A snout-like nose above a befanged mouth, now dripping with gore. Pointed ears that drooped slightly in a distinctly bestial way. Only the eyes seemed even a little familiar. They were the feral yellow of a vampire.

Standing over the body, this new demon looked at them for perhaps two whole seconds. Then it raced away into the night. Riley and Buffy wasted no time running after it.

Then, Tara turned in Willow's direction. Her expression was shocking. Frightened, for one thing. Willow had never seen Tara frightened. Not even once. More, she moved nervously, almost as if each movement was a shy jerk. She pulled her jacket closer in for warmth. That's not right, Willow thought.

Willow reached out and touched Tara's hand. Warm. Her hand was warm! And Tara herself looked on the verge of tears.

In one motion Willow brought Tara into her arms, holding her tight as the girl began to silently--then not so silently--weep.

Those Who Follow must be lost. Yes. Danger in them. For now. So run. Fast. Faster. Faster still. Hide in the shadows. Run in them. This is night. My time. Shadows everywhere. Run but run silently.

To the nest. To the Parent. Yes. But not straight. No, that is how prey think. I am not prey. Stay within the shadows. And run as silent as I can. Keep the senses alert for danger. And for food.

Hungry. But not too hungry. Is there danger? No. Listen hard for any other running, for heartbeats racing because they had been running.

Prey! In silly loose clothes and soft shoes, running but running in a straight line and very slow.

The prey pays no heed as it passes the shadows of a tree. Stupid prey. But moments to grab it and pull it into the shadows. Fangs find where the food flows, ripping through flesh. Catch the food as it gushes. In moments the prey stops squirming. But then the food stops flowing. Must suck. Hard. Harder.

Now to double back through the shadows, winding a tricky way back to the nest before the sun comes back.

Giles was doing his best with a really weird situation, Willow thought to herself. Understandably he stared at Tara--how often did a Watcher get to see an ex-vampire, after all?--but he kept it to a minimum. Xander and Anya, on the other hand--their eyes were glued to the blonde. Only Willow's protective hovering kept them from asking all sorts of questions.

Tara herself was in an upright fetal position on the sofa. Willow sat alongside her, one arm around her shoulders. She'd managed to get the (now human) girl to sip some chicken soup. Other than that, Tara barely reacted to her environment at all. Now and then she fixed her eyes on Willow, but that was all.

"I believe," said Giles in a low voice, "I now know what has happened." He'd been pouring over several books for hours.

"This has gotta be good," muttered Xander under his breath. Willow shushed him with a gesture.

"Well, Toth--that's the demon who used the staff you described--his intended target was Buffy. In effect he was using magic to split her into two component parts. One would have been the Slayer, with the heritage and the strength. The other would be simply--Buffy. No more or less."

"Uh, Giles?" Xander didn't quite raise his hand. "Wouldn't that mean he'd be up against Super Slayer. Like industrial strength?"

"Indeed. But the Buffy half would be much more vulnerable. And if either one dies, they both do."

"Precisely. This is the Tara Maclay stripped, or freed, of her vampiric nature. And the other, who escaped, is the vampiric demon in its purest form. All instinct and blood lust, without even a remnant of the host's personality."

"But...But Buffy and Riley are out trying to slay it! And from you say..." Willow hugged Tara closer.

No one spoke for nearly a minute that lasted hours. Then the front door opened. Buffy and Riley wearily stepped inside.

"That thing was unbelievably fast," added Buffy. "I'm glad I don't have to fight what-ever-it-is too often."

"According to Giles, actually, you've been doing exactly that for years" said Xander.

"Well, both yes and no," said Giles. "That was the vampire separated from any trace of humanity. I think the idea was to use this magic on you, splitting you into Buffy and Slayer. But you weren't the one hit."

Buffy took all this in. She especially noticed Willow's arm around the form of Tara--a breathing and crying Tara.

The Parent seemed pleased. He smiled. And he led the way to a room very deep and dark. The sun was rising soon. Yes. Here was a safe place. The safest part of the nest.

"Ah my dear Tara," whispered the Parent. What did these words mean? Or any words? It probably did not matter. "What has happened, I wonder? Such metamorphosis usually only occurs with great age. Very great age indeed. Has someone been playing with temporal magicks, perhaps? Or is it something else? I'd hate to lose such an ideal novice."

Tara lay down on the stone floor to rest. She barely noticed her Sire locking the door behind him as he left.

Tara woke in warmth. Delicious warmth out of her sweetest dreams. Her eyes snapped open, a part of her flinching at the sunlight beaming through the dorm windows. It took her barely two seconds to realize where she was. With Willow.

Last night, Willow had insisted on taking care of her. Vivid as memory, but not, Tara knew who Willow was. Knew her as a beautiful young redhead who studied witchcraft. As an object of fascinated lust that was her own and yet someone else's. Willow the lovely. Willow the brave. Willow the wise. Turning, she could see Willow's face beside her in the bed. Like Tara, she was still dressed.

"Everything." Too much. "But its like it was someone else. Yet it was me. Me. A monster. A demon."

"Not just that," Willow said firmly. "I know. You saved my life more than once. And helped out lots of times. Buffy's been going crazy trying to figure out why. I think I already know."

Listening to this, Tara wanted so much to agree. But she couldn't. "You don't understand," she said. Tears welled up in her eyes. "I was under orders to do all that. My sire, the vampire who made me, he has plans. He wanted me to be useful to the Slayer and her friends, all part of some plan."

Willow's distress at these words nearly tore Tara's heart out. But better this than a lie. Wasn't it?

"If you were just obeying orders--that time the Mayor kept me prisoner, and we were alone?

Tara didn't answer that question. She'd learned to fear too much hope, and to avoid it as a ship avoids underwater rocks. But Willow's brilliant green eyes never left hers. The question hung between them. Soon, so did Tara's unvoiced answer:

This time it was Willow who kissed Tara. Nothing more than a pressing of lips. But Tara welcomed it with a fierce, terrified hunger. She dared not take it further, exerting every drop of willpower to stop herself melting into the redhead's embrace. Not that it mattered. Willow wrapped her arms around Tara, kissing her again. A tiny moan escaped Tara. Then Willow gently traced her tongue against Tara's lips.

Defenses against pain began to crumble now. Simple kisses grew deeper. Hands and fingers began to wander, slowly at first but with greater courage each passing minute. Neither girl rushed. Fully half an hour passed between the first kiss and the first hand to tentatively slip underneath a shirt.

Kissing of mouths was followed by that of throats, then ears. hands and wrists. Buttons were undone, things pulled up and over heads, so kissing could explore ribcages and navels. Later nipples were traced with lips and tongue and teeth. Nor were hands ignored as they too traced and felt and cupped. The sight of each other had always intoxicated. Now they found the smell of hair and skin no less dizzying. Yet they savored. Another half hour passed before pants joined sweaters and bras on the bedroom floor. Still another was nearly gone when the last of their garments was discarded. By then taste was the only sensation not yet fully explored. They did so with enthusiastic and mounting joy. And Tara's tears were of pleasure for a change, while with a searing pride she knew Willow's were the same.

Chapter 9

Tara felt a kinship with the creatures staring at her. She didn't know what kind of kinship. In fact, she lacked the means to even think of the concept. But the blonde ugly female and the tall handsome male were her own kind, and part of her recognized that fact.

"You're kidding? That...thing...is Tara?" The ugly blonde spoke. Her words almost meant something.

"Exactly so," answered the handsome male. His voice was lovely, like a snake's. On some level Tara knew this creature as her parent.

"It has taken me some time to figure this out myself. At first I assumed this to be some kind of temporal spell, perhaps an act of malice on the part of an enemy. Or a mere mistake. But I think not."

"Our Tara has been riven. Split into two halves, as it were. What you see before you is the vampiric demon which makes up half of her nature. Half of ours as well."

Even to Tara, the pause before her parent answered was full of threat. The ugly blonde took a step back. "In a very real sense," he whispered, "that is what you and I have in place of a soul." His yellow eyes looked again at Tara behind the bars of her cage. "Pure predatory instinct. The hunger for blood and everything that goes with it. The cunning of the hunt, the pleasure that goes with it, and an intuitive understanding of the limitations you and I know only consciously. As a pure demon, Tara need never be told to avoid sunlight. She already knows. Just as she understands when she has been invited into a home, and when she has not." The approval in her parent's eyes was clear.

"Oh! My! God!" It was the tenth time Buffy had said those words in the last thirty seconds. "Oh! My! God!"

The Slayer looked at Willow, who was half-dressed by now, then at the bed where a clearly-naked Tara clutched the sheets around her. For a moment it looked as if Buffy was listening. Her eyes, huger than Willow had ever seen them, went back and forth from Willow to the bed and back again.

She said nothing. The eyes moved and nothing else. Willow had no idea how this was going to turn, and was more than a little nervous about finding out. Buffy, for once, seemed paralyzed. She's stopped with the oh-my-god-ing, but her jaw still moved. All in all, it was as impressive an example of wigging as Willow had ever seen

"Yeah?" The ex-soldier knew at once something was wrong. Fortunately, all his attention went to Buffy. For now, anyway.

Buffy moved her lips, but what came out was sounds, not words. In desperation, she pointed at Willow, then Tara in the bed.

"Willow! Tara! Last night! Here!" Ah. Speech restored. Willow hurriedly pulled on the last her clothes, watching Riley take in the whole scene. She very nearly saw the light bulb appear over his head. Just as Buffy did. "Them! Together! Willow! And Tara!"

Riley put his hands on Buffy's arms. He stooped slightly and looked her right in the eyes. Okay, this might be good. Emphasis on might.

"I understand." He spoke just a little slowly. Probably unnecessary, really, but why take chances?

Riley nodded. "Tara is human now." Willow silently cheered Riley for starting with this. She looked at Tara to give a quick look of reassurance. "And last night, Willow and Tara spent the night together."

"Okay, well maybe not a vampire now. But a vampire then and that counts for something!"

"Buffy" Willow decided it was time to intervene. Tara's nerves were visibly shredding. Buffy looked at Willow. "Tara is a human. Look--sunlight." She pointed to the window. "And look at this." Willow picked up a mirror and set it next to Tara. Her nervous face reflected.

After several more seconds, Buffy seemed to calm. Riley carefully let go of her. Her eyes still looked like they might pop out of her head, but at least her breathing was returning to normal. At last she spoke. "Sorry. I was--surprised. I'll...I'll let you get dressed." Then she deliberately stepped out of the room.

Willow looked Tara. Her honey-blonde hair was all over the place. Somehow she'd managed to turn herself into a ball while keeping the sheets wrapped around her. The angle of her head hid her one remaining eye. Willow lifted Tara's chin.

All the Scoobies met in The Magic Shoppe. Willow almost defiantly sat next to Tara, refusing to let go of her hand. Giles did his best to both look at them while not doing so. Giles kept doing little takes at the sight of them as a couple. Buffy was pacing, while Riley hovered nearby.

"Y-y-you need to know," the newly mortal Tara began. She hesitated before speaking again.

"Out with it." Buffy was in full command mode. The feel of Willow's hand gave Tara strength she desperately needed.

"M-m-my sire, the one who made m-m-me. He's called Th-th-the Apostate." Out of the corner of her eye, Tara noticed Giles nod at this news. "He's evil."

"We've heard of The Apostate," said Giles. To Tara's immense relief he sounded calm, civilized, and non-judgmental. "And from what we've heard, he wages a private war on demonkind."

"I d-d-don't know all the details. But he was sent to hell and he somehow got out. I th-th-think he had some kind of help. S-s-so now he want revenge on the ones who tortured him. But he's still evil. Horribly evil."

Willow put her arm around her. For a moment, Tara let herself fall into that embrace. Not very much, but a little. Here was all she'd hoped for.

Buffy's voice broke into her thoughts. "Describe him. What does this Apostate look like?"

Everyone was looking at Buffy now, with the same worried look on their faces. The only exception was Riley, who looked puzzled at the intensity of Buffy's question.

"He's ugly," answered Tara. "M-m-maybe he's always been that way. Or maybe it was all the time he spent in hell. But he looks..." she struggled for the right words. "He looks like a vampire looks when they change, but w-w-with less humanity."

Now Buffy kneeled to look face-to-face with Tara. "Does he ever look different than that?"

"What about details? Does he ever mention his real name? Or maybe just another name he used to use? I mean, he wasn't always known as the Apostate, was he?" Her voice was rising.

"Buffy!" Willow interrupted the Slayer. They looked at each other for a moment. Buffy relaxed slightly.

Riley was looking at everyone else's reaction. "Excuse me. What's going on here that I don't know about?"

Silence. Anya opened her mouth but shut it again at a gesture from Xander. Giles cleared his throat. "It is rather a long story, Riley. Might I suggest we table any explanations until later? Now, Tara," he sat across from her. "You say the Apostate ordered you to help us?"

"S-s-some. He wanted you to have that scroll Faith got from Los Angeles. B-b-because of the prophecy about a Vampire With A Soul."

"He w-w-w-wants Willow to use the Soul Restoration Spell on him." Beside her, Tara could almost feel the red-haired witch's shock. She could see it in the face of the everyone else. "He wants his soul b-b-back."

Even deep underground, Tara could sense the sun was nearly down. She greeted that fact with a terrible glee. Her parent paced nearby, the key to her prison in his hand.

"The essential fact," he was saying, "is that the two of you are one. Magic may have riven you apart, but every instinct and intuition in both you longs for reunification. Anything else is unnatural."

"Which means my dilemma is about to solve itself." He smiled. Any human would find the sight disturbing. "And so my covert preparations against Glory may soon continue. The Slayer should thank me. She really should. But somehow, I doubt she will."

Not until the sun had actually set did he turn the key and open the door. All the other doors to the surface were already open.

Off in the corner, Tara sat and stared at setting sun through the window. She'd loved to watch sunsets once. Before her rebirth.

"They're still trying to figure things out." Willow tilted her head to the back of the store, where all the scoobies were in deep talk. Or argument. "You know--what's going to happen next, the kind of things we have to prepare for, and so on."

"Yeah. That too." Even embarrassed, she was almost too beautiful to look on. Tara didn't understand why she had an urge to look back outside at the night.

"Two things, really. First, the Apostate said that someone extremely dangerous was coming here to Sunnydale. Someone he fears, and he thinks Buffy will need his help to defeat her. But I don't know any details."

A grin broke across Willow's face. She opened her mouth to say something, but then Giles called her name. "Be right back," she promised before heading back towards the Watcher.

Tara's words ringing in her ears, Willow came back to the circle of Giles and the others.

"Do you still have Jenny's notes about Soul Restoration?" The Watcher asked without preamble.

"I...I don't know. I mean, sure I've gotten better since then but that's a really advanced spell. Not that I wouldn't try if it we really needed it, but do we? Need it, I mean?"

"The Prophecies say there has to be a Vampire With a Soul" Buffy said, her voice matter-of-fact.

"But," noted Giles, "that person's role in the forthcoming crisis is ambiguous at best."

"Doesn't that kinda depend on who the vampire is?" There. She'd said as much as she could without actually explaining everything to Riley. Or setting off too many alarms. A quick glance at Riley left Willow uneasy about her success on the latter. He knew. Not what was going on, but that something was going on, definitely.

Xander joined in. "Well, let's first find out all we can about this Apostate guy. Tara, is there anything more you can tell us about him?" They all looked in the direction where Tara had been waiting.

Tara ran into the night. She didn't know why she was doing this. More than most, she knew what sort of horrors stalked the darkness, especially in Sunnydale.

But what she'd come to think of as her witch's sense brooked no refusal. She didn't even know where she was headed. Nor how long she'd been running, until breathing began to hurt, forcing her to stop.

Looking around, she saw one of Sunnydale's many graveyards. Of course. And in the darkness, she knew something was moving towards her.

Chapter 10

"What good will that do without the right spell?" Both Willow and Giles had to stop and just look at Anya for saying that. They sometimes forgot how...well...logical she could be. "That is what we're doing here, right?"

"You see," said Giles, partially to soothe her, "Tara hasn't been turned back into a human being. Not really. She's still a vampire, but divided into her different components if you will. What we have to do is find a way to use this unique opportunity and create a genuine cure for her."

All three poured over books. Of necessity they had to skim, looking for clues to what might not even be possible. But they had to try. Willow realized this is where she could do the most good. Buffy and Riley were the strong ones. Xander had that military training he'd gotten a few years back. They were the ones best suited to finding Tara. Both Taras.

"Instinct" Anya nodded, clearly sure of herself. "You divide someone in two, the two parts are gonna be drawn together. Its where they belong, after all."

"But..." Willow could feel her eyes growing huge again but couldn't help it. "Tara's other half is a demon! It'll kill her!" She started to rise.

Giles firmly took her wrist. "None of us is a match for Tara's demon self. Trust the others to do their job, while you do yours--making a spell to cure Tara permanently."

After hesitating, Willow sat again. Giles was right. Her place was here. Readiness was everything and all that. Even though Willow longed to run into the night, screaming the other girl's name--Tara. Her beloved. Strange that amid all the disruptions going on right now that fact--which should have been some kind of major tremor--was a steady place surrounded by earthquakes. But denying it was impossible. Willow loved Tara, even more than she'd loved Oz. Even a few days ago she'd have denied that was possible. Now it was the obvious of truths.

Her meditations were broken by the phone ringing. Giles picked it up. "Hello?" Almost immediately the man's face grew intense. Whatever he was hearing was at least not good news. Or maybe profoundly mixed. But a widening of the eyes meant he was also surprised. Only by an act of will did Willow keep from yelling for news. "Yes," said Giles at last, "I understand. We'll be over at once." He hung up and looked at both Willow and Anya.

Exhausted. Tara had never felt so tired. No. Not true. She'd felt almost precisely this exhausted once before. Exactly once before. But this time, as she lifted her leaden eyes, she thought to herself I must have survived.

With difficulty, she looked around her. Hospital room. A plastic bag of familiar red liquid was dripping into her arm. Her throat ached, with a barely-remembered pain. There was a man (he wore a white coat--a doctor). Young. Good looking, she supposed. He was taking her blood pressure. And now he noticed she was awake.

"Hi." Her voice sounded too weak to be heard. The doctor evidently did, though. He nodded in acknowledgement.

"Good to see you conscious. We were worried. Good thing we had your type on hand." From his gesture he must mean her blood type. What did that matter? She didn't care what type of blood she drank. Then she remembered. I'm not a vampire. Not anymore. But where was her other self? Did he know?

"Brought you in?" She managed to nod. "Girl named Buffy Summers. She's been around here a lot, lately, what with her Mom having tests and all. You two are friends, I take it?"

The doctor finished making some notes on her chart. Changing the subject, he put it away and gave a little smile. "My name's Ben, by the way. And Buffy tells me you're Tara Maclay? Is there anyone else I should be contacting? Mother? Father?"

"Hm? Oh, its nearly midnight. You try to get some rest." And with that he left her.

Nearly midnight. Her other self was still out there. Somewhere. By concentrating, Tara dimly recalled the demonic face near hers, fangs tearing into her throat before someone calling out her name. Then, a struggle. Details, if ever she knew them, were gone. At least for now. But since she lived, clearly so to did the Vampire that until recently she'd been. And this was a public place. No need to get an invitation. Plus no discipline, no sense of self-restraint. Her Vampire--Tara knew what it, or she, wanted. To be one again. She felt it herself, not unlike a kind of emotional itch. If only it were that easy! Undistracted by anything in the dim light of her hospital room, Tara contemplated the situation with surprising ease.

Without her humanity for balance, the Vampire would run amok. It had nearly no self-control. As long as it remained at large every single human in range was in danger. For that matter, so was Tara. And should the Vampire be destroyed--a very likely event in a city where a Slayer lived--then Tara would die at the same instant.

Two solutions presented themselves. First, die. The magic worked both ways. Kill Tara, and the Vampire stops. Or--reunion. She could return to what she had been. Both possibilities were attractive in odd ways. Tara was disturbed to realize she remembered with fondness the raw power of being a demon, of walking the world as a predator. It even allowed her moments of real fulfillment, the kind of pleasures she'd nearly always denied herself. Like Harmony? With a little shudder Tara remembered that mistake. Still, the blonde girl was pretty and had been devoted, even skilled, in her way. She didn't really regret taking the ex-cheerleader to bed, just making her such a fantastically incompetent nosferatu. No less deadly for all that. And without Tara's mitigating influence--doomed as well as dangerous.

More, there was the Apostate. Her sire. Easily the most evil being she'd ever imagined meeting, yet strangely enough on the side of the angels. Not for any noble motive. The Apostate made no pretense towards virtue. He lusted for revenge against those who'd tormented him, the demons amused themselves with his torture. Until he'd escaped Hell, somehow. And she knew his plans in some sense centered on her.

She'd never actually made love before today. Tara had had sex. Even as a human she'd found that pleasure. Only a few times, and that with a fumbling fellow teenager who later moved away. Later, Tara as a vampire had managed to seduced several attractive young women. More than a couple had willingly bled themselves for her. And she'd enjoyed the favors of two vampiresses. But only with Willow had she found out why precisely it was called Making Love. And the thought of losing her--either from death (which suddenly seemed much more terrifying) or from returning to what she had been--was a horror to Tara now.

Willow arrived at the hospital with Anya and Giles. She found Buffy in the waiting area, looking ragged.

"Buffy?" Giles managed to convey nearly every variation of How Are You in that one word.

The Slayer smiled slightly. "I'm alright. Tara and Riley are under observation."

"What happened?" Privately, Willow was please to note she didn't scream that question.

"Tara was being attacked just as we got there. Her demon--well, it's really strong. I mean, really."

"I guess so. Anyway, Riley insisted on fighting it. He got hurt. That thing bit his arm, and clawed him. But thanks to Mr. Andrenolyne he just kept going while I brought Tara here. He followed. Said he couldn't feel his wounds but I got him to let the doctor take a look."

As if on cue a good-looking young doctor approached them. "Buffy, I've got to ask you some questions."

"She's fine. Got a bandage on her neck and a couple of units of blood pumped into her. The only real problem would seem to be shock, and to be honest she seems to be coping with that just fine. Are you her sister?"

"Well, that's not strictly policy. But I'll see what I can do." He turned to Buffy again. "To your knowledge, does Riley Finn take any kind of prescription medicine? Or any other type of really powerful drug, legal or otherwise?"

"Same answer--no. Why?" The doctor hesitated. He looked at the others around Buffy. "I don't keep secrets from my friends, Doctor."

"This may not be your secret to keep. But--Riley's wounds themselves were superficial. Little more than some deep cuts, and healing remarkably fast. But--well..."

"His heartbeat is fast, Buffy. Very fast. Reflexes are way, way above normal. A cursory glance at his blood chemistry found what I can only call oddities while x-rays revealed what seems to be an implant in his chest. Frankly, when he said he didn't feel his wounds I at first took that as nothing but bravado. Now, I'm not so sure."

Willow could see Buffy shifting into control mode. Her most basic reaction to some kinds of crisis. She swallowed. "What are you going to do?"

She was here. The other one. But Tara knew better now than to simply go and attack. Some of the prey were too strong, too fast. Better to avoid them. And any other like them.

It didn't occur to Tara to try and think why she needed to find the other. Self-awareness was not something she had in abundance. But the need was there. Not as great as that of blood, but ever-present.

Willow very rarely broke the rules. It was part of what made her...her. The fact that the few times she actually had broken them tended to result in crashing disasters complete with lowered real estate values and large cleanup bills only added to her natural reluctance.

This late at night, the hospital hallways were sparsely populated. Actually, this made things harder. No crowd or traffic with which to blend. On the plus side, the nurses on station weren't exactly super alert right now either. As long as she was quiet, and stayed to the shadows, Willow found it not too hard to sneak towards her goal.

She slid through the door as quietly as she could, her heart pounding in her ears. And not simply because of Breaking The Rules. Goddess! How did this happen? And would she change things if she could? One look at the slumbering blonde on the bed, pale and helpless, and the question became pointless.

After an eternal moment, Tara's one eye flickered open. When her gaze met Willow's it felt like a lightning strike. Then, in less than a second, Willow was beside her bed.

"Tara," Willow breathed back. There hardly seemed a need to say more. Everything she wanted to say--you're everything to me, I love you, I'd saw off my own legs to see you smile--came out in the girl's name. Just as, to her unsurpassed and unexpected joy, her own name seemed to say the same.

Slowly, partly because she seemed so fragile, but mostly for the sake of savoring the moment, Willow reached down and placed her lips on Tara's own. Exactly who moaned at that moment she could never figure out. Nor did she care.

Even in the dim light, Tara's eye seemed to glow looking at her. How is that possible, Willow thought? That anyone should look at me like that? It was intoxicating.

At first Willow didn't know what Tara meant. Then she felt terror. "I'll get Buffy!" But Tara's hand suddenly squeezed hers. Willow stopped, puzzled. And afraid.

Tara swallowed. Speaking obviously was costing her a lot, and seeing it ripped into Willow. She resolutely refused to let it show on her face.

"Listen." For the rest of time. And beyond. Give me the chance? "You're all in danger. And I'm going to be selfish." Willow felt another stab of fear. She could nearly feel herself bleeding, already half-certain what Tara was going to say. "There's only one way I can help protect you."

Volumes were exchanged in those few words. Every argument Willow might make was answered, every plea ruthlessly deflected. Is this what it means to have a soulmate? So we hardly even have to speak anymore? And how can I give this up? I cannot! I won't! No one can make me!

Eyes springing tears, Willow leaned down to kiss her Tara again. As long a kiss as she could manage. Only a small gasp from Tara brought it to an end. Tara's worried gaze aimed at the door, then at Willow again.

Willow began to sob. She locked her own eyes into Tara's one. Dimly, she heard the door behind her swing open. A barely audible growl echoed in the silence. Tara reached out with her other hand, now clasping hers in one. Out of some reserve of strength Willow never knew she'd possessed she somehow managed to speak the words.

Magic passed through them like a hot flash. She felt it like a wind that somehow reached into her organs and rocked them gently. Her entire form trembled. But the real shock came as she felt the heat leave Tara's hands, and most of the color leave her face.

The next night, Tara hid outside the Summers home and listened. Buffy was trying not to pace, under the worried gaze of her mother and sister. Willow sat in a chair, curled up yet head erect.

"I can't believe you did that." Buffy sounded full of horror, but it wasn't a focused horror. She clearly hadn't made up her mind yet. Too much going on to make clear decisions, was Tara's guess.

"Gee, I don't know, Wil! Maybe not turning her back into a vampire? Sounds like a plan to me!"

"Buffy..." Mrs. Summers' voice was soothing, warning. It reminded Tara in some small way of the human woman who had been her own mother.

After a pause, Willow answered. "It was either that, or kill her. They were two parts of the same person."

"Says who? And anyway, just 'cause you're so down with the killing and the slaying and everything doesn't mean I can be. I couldn't kill her, Buffy. I just...couldn't."

Now would be a good time to leave, Tara decided. As she made her silent way, she pondered that little would be settled tonight. Or tomorrow. She was pleased in an abstract way that Buffy's boyfriend was going to be alright, even if...reduced seemed the right word. Evidently the experiments by the Initiative weren't going to have too many permanent side effects. Too bad he was a mere human again. Keeping up was going to be hard for him. Meanwhile, the Slayer and all her friends now knew a good deal more about the Apostate. He didn't seem to mind that much. Which was good. Matters were coming to a head, he'd hinted.

But now there was something between her and Willow. Truthfully, there'd been something before but now...it was more. Much more. And Tara had never felt more a freak. Vampires weren't supposed to fall for humans. It was like a wolf trying to mate with a caribou. A funny if wholly inappropriate image came unbidden to Tara's mind at that simile, but she managed to smother a giggle. Just as suddenly her mind went to memories of her day as a human. Of kisses searing hot and touches somehow deeper than skin or even bone.

Her meditations were broken by the shambling figure on the sidewalk. A familiar one. Xander. Willow's best friend. But there was something wrong about the way he walked. Inching nearer, she realizing he was mumbling to himself.

"This isn't the wrong place," he was saying "I'm not supposed to be in the right or wrong place. Was I? And who turned on the stars anyway? Damn stars--always snickering, lying to the squirrels about me."

Tara suddenly knew what had happened. She headed back to her sire's lair at the best speed she could manage. The Apostate needed to know.

Chapter 11

Willow sat down, exhausted. More in spirit than body. Across from her sat Anya, looking more of both.

Now Willow nodded. She felt weirdly uncomfortable, yet relieved. Xander's girlfriend had always gotten on her nerves. And still did. More, she'd been frightened on behalf of her oldest friend. Anya had a dark side. That had been proven beyond doubt. Yet she also seemed utterly devoted to Xander, and was proving right now.

But the dark-haired girl's face frowned. "Why wouldn't I be taking care of Xander? I love Xander!"

"No! I mean--I'm glad you're the one doing it! That someone who cares went ahead and...and...and..." The need to defend herself sputtered away as she saw Anya's hostility fade. Not vanish completely, but shrink. And certainly its aim was no longer directed at Willow.

"Its not like his parents" in Anya's mouth those words were expletives "were going to do anything. Just let him rot in the county psych ward was their plan." Even in exhaustion, Anya's fury was crystal clear. "What kind of parents are those?" This last was lower, tiredness taking the place of rage. Willow found herself warming to Anya.

No one--not even Giles--could figure out what had happened to Xander last week. He'd been found wandering the streets of Sunnydale, eyes vacant and talking nonsense. Since then, he'd only responded to Anya, and then sometimes. Willow tried not to think of how Xander had flailed at first, and how he'd broken down crying about seagulls attacking him, curling into a ball at Anya's feet while his girlfriend tried

not to weep--and failed. Anya had wasted little time bullying Xander's parents into letting her take him to her apartment. Since then she'd barely gotten any sleep. And only later in a moment of guilt did Willow admit to feeling anything other than sympathy. Envy. How Willow longed to feel that kind of devotion! Or to receive it!

The doorbell rang. Waving Anya to stay seated, Willow headed to answer it herself.

She waited nearly twenty seconds before opening the door. Tara (how much remained of her Tara?) gazed levelly back at her. Lacking an invitation, the vampire made no effort to cross the threshold.

"Hello Willow." Simple enough words. In truth, they'd exchanged the same countless times. Now, Willow said nothing. But neither did (could) she look away.

"You need to know something. Xander isn't alone." Tara waited after saying this. And waited.

"Other people are being found in the same condition. And that's not a coincidence." The vampire paused for effect. "My sire knows a great deal about what's happening. But he won't help the Slayer for nothing. He has a price. You already know what that is." Her manner was very cold, matter of fact.

"But can you reverse it? Make him better again?" Willow cringed at the abjectness in Anya's voice. Disturbingly, Tara barely flinched. She merely stared at Willow, then turned and left.

Willow shut the door, putting her arm around Anya. "Did I tell you," she asked, "that Xander had just gotten promoted at work?"

Is it wise to try and deny your own nature? Tara had been thinking about that for what seemed like forever. Of course the answer would appear to be a resounding "NO!" But what her nature was remained the mystery.

So here she was, a vampire in fascination (maybe even love) with a human being. Following said human being (Willow lovely name Willow) through the night towards the home of a skilled killer of vampires. Madness? Well, no. Madness would have been to disobey her Sire's commands. But as a general rule this hardly seemed a smart thing to do. Tara was herself very smart, so she could tell. What really amazed her, though, was the self-knowledge that even if she hadn't been ordered to follow the red-haired witch by the most terrifying creature she'd ever met--she'd still do it.

Not foolish enough to get close to the Slayer's house, however. Until she had to. From across the street, in the shadows, Tara watched Willow go inside Buffy Summers' home. And waited. Lately, the Slayer had been especially fierce in her duties. No reason to antagonize her.

Tara waited for over an hour across the street. At last she became distracted at seeing a window open on the second floor of the Summers home. Focusing, she was bit surprised to see Dawn, the Slayer's sister, inch her way onto the roof, then down a tree to street level. Making as little sound as possible, the girl headed up the street.

Vampires are rarely surprised. For one thing, their senses are incredibly sharp. And for another, when they are surprised, they tend to do exactly what Tara did--morph into their demon face and snarl at the surpriser.

He didn't react at all, this vastly ordinary looking guy in jeans, T-Shirt and flannel shirt. Just squint at her, then at the moving Dawn. "Well?"

"Funny you should put it like that. Whistler's the name. And we've got some stuff in common. Like the fact we're demons."

"Neither do you. Most of the time. Anyway, notice something odd about Buffy's kid sister?"

An intuition led Tara to contemplate this. She looked for a long time at the retreating figure. "Odd? Well, she is going out unescorted in Sunnydale. Almost anybody knows better than to do that. Or they don't live that long."

"Good point. We should probably follow her then." Whistler--if that was his name--set out at once. After a moment's hesitation, Tara followed. The so-called demon went on talking as if there'd been no doubt. "But that wasn't what I meant. Notice what she was wearing?"

By now Tara wondered if maybe she was getting lured by one of the Minions of the Beast, Glory. But from everything the Apostate said, Glory tended to use more fawning-type creatures. Still, she remained on her guard.

"Buffy does. Weird thing is, it actually helps her slaying. Girl can spot a vampire whose fashion sense is years out of date without half thinking about it. Useful."

"I'm nowhere in her league." Had Whistler been human, he'd be out of breath by now, so rapid was his pace. Yet he continued without a pause. Tara, of course, had no such problem. "And yet--here's a tidbit. When was the last time you saw a girl her age wear a scarf?"

Now they turned a corner, following Dawn--who was busy entering a private house without knocking. Interestingly, there were no lights on, nor did any car lie in the driveway. The front lawn was in fair condition, but the homeowner was clearly no gardener. Whistler didn't even hesitate. He made straight for the mailbox in front. But he was careful to open it as silently as possible. Dozens of envelopes were stuffed inside.

"Take a look for yourself," offered Whistler, handing her some mail. "Junk mail really does treat everybody the same, huh?"

Tara took a glance at the names on the letters--all of them solicitations in one way or another. Each had the same name on them, although some were misspelled. Something like a ping went off in her brain.

Willow couldn't tell who was more startled at seeing Tara at The Magic Shoppe--Buffy or herself. But there the blond vampire was, pouring over books with Giles.

"Buffy, where is Dawn, do you know?" Giles looked worried. Very worried. This was bad, of that Willow had no doubt. But what did Tara have to do with all this?

"No she isn't," Tara didn't even look up from her skimming of a thick tome. Willow recognized it as a work on the Qabala.

"Stop it!" This time it was Giles who snapped. "This is important! Tara believes Dawn may be in great danger, although she's not sure why. For some reason, I agree with her. But neither of us is sure precisely what it is..." The watcher looked frustrated, as if he'd been trying to invent a new color or something. At the table, Tara picked up another book. Giles picked up one of a handful of what looked like...junkmail?

Willow took one of the envelopes and looked at it. "Since when does a schoolgirl get letters from investment firms?"

"Perhaps." Giles looked unsure. "But there's something that doesn't feel right."

"Oh my god." Tara looked up at Giles. "Look at this." And handed the book she had to him.

Giles put on his glasses, and read aloud. "The Karnsteins were the most notorious of all Austrian noble houses. For centuries they were reviled as demon-worshippers. Even their name is an anagram of the demon lord s'K'ran. Although most Karnsteins were killed during the first World War, it is commonly believed that one of their number--a Countess Mircalla--preserved them as her human servants. This fiend was transformed into a vampire during the seventeenth century, and has stalked the night ever since. Unusually, she prefers to drink from only one type of victim--young girls approximately the same age she was herself when reborn into darkness."

"And I spotted Dawn," added Tara, "sneaking out of her house earlier this evening. She went into a nearby house. This one." She lifted one of the letters. "That name! There was something about that name..."

Buffy's face looked more and more horror-stricken listening to all this. She tore out of the shop in less than a second.

In the rush to the house where (presumably) Mircalla Karnstein was, Tara managed to join without much dissent from Buffy. All four somehow fit into Giles' sportscar. But of course things changed soon enough. Buffy looked behind her into the back seat, where Tara and Willow sat side by side.

"Just to make things clear," she began, "if I get so much as a hint, the slightest clue, if I find myself seriously suspecting for one single instant this is a setup--"

Tara didn't doubt that for an instant. Strangely, the fear she should be feeling right now didn't seem real. And the reason was just too, too obvious. She was seated next to Tara. Making Tara forget how much danger she was in right now. Not good. Foolish, in fact. Terribly foolish.

Willow braced herself for the worst as the four of them made their way around the house where "Marcie" lived. But a tiny voice deep inside wondered what the Worst would be. To have to rescue Dawn? Or not having to, because this was all a ruse by the vampire remnant of a girl Willow had fallen in love with?

Tara herself quickly solved one question. She calmly walked up to the front door and opened it, walking in. The owner of this house was either dead--or not human.

Once inside, the bareness of the front room was ominous. Buffy pulled out her favorite stake, Mr. Pointy.

All of them fanned out. Secretly Willow followed Tara, who headed to the left. The room they found was--odd. It was bare except for one chair, that chair very low yet wide and strewn with pillows. Across, facing the chair were dozens of framed portraits, daguerreotypes, a few pen and ink drawings, plus at least one professional (and recent) photograph. Each had the same subject. Dark hair, blue eyes and a round, pale face.

The vampire nodded. Without another word, she headed back to the main room. And Willow followed her. She wasn't sure why.

In a forward room upstairs Buffy, with Giles and Tara and Willow behind her, heard something like a muffled groan. She did a take at the sound, then headed straight for the door. She wasted no time but kicked it in. Tara was immediately behind.

Dawn was on a chaise lounge, gasping for breath. Kneeling beside her, mouth fastened to Dawn's throat, was the same black-haired girl as in the portraits downstairs. At the sound of the breaking door, she lifted her head. Blood dripped from her lips. But oddly, her face showed none of the demonic visage other vampires did when feeding. Yet fangs protruded from her lips.

Buffy howled as she leapt across the room. Mr. Pointy was in her hand and she landed on the vampire, forcing the creature onto the floor. In one swift, practiced blow she drove the stake directly into Mircalla's heart. Then she gaped. Not only did the vampire not dissolve into dust, she laughed. A nasty, leering laugh.

"Mine, Slayer," she whispered loud enough for them all to hear. "She's mine now!"

Mircalla's hand went to one side, then across Buffy's face with enough force to send her backwards. Rising, she almost contemptuously pulled the stake from her chest. Tara had no idea how she could still be alive. But keeping her from Dawn was a priority. Moving with the supernatural speed of her kind, Tara raced to Dawn's side and picked her up.

"...help...Buffy..." Another oddity. Mircalla must be one of those who like to drink slowly. But something to be thankful for. Dawn's eyes flickered open, saw Tara, was frightened. But Willow reached across (her touch! Willow's touch!) and put her hand on Dawn's shoulder. "...ring..." breathed the Slayer's sister.

Willow and Tara looked at each other. Tara didn't know what Dawn meant. Willow, glancing over to where Buffy and Mircalla were trading blows, did.

The Slayer clearly heard. She focused on Mircalla's hand. Tara could see a ring. A magic talisman? Buffy's efforts to fight the small vampire were renewed. Yet she didn't seem to be winning. Tara reached out and took Willow's hand.

"Concentrate!" Tara told her. Willow did as she was told, joining her will with Tara's. And as their minds met--not thoughts but feelings and senses of selves--they reached out to affect the world about them. Changing the world. Moving what they willed.

Willow met Tara at the Bronze. The place was crowded, as usual. But she had no trouble finding the blonde vampire. In truth, she was so beautiful. Far too beautiful.

Chapter 12

Tara's reaction was instant. Before Willow could finish screaming Xander's name, she had her saber out and was running.

Amid the trees she saw movement. One was clearly Willow's childhood chum. He was falling, hitting the ground. Tara reached the clearing in time to see what had pulled him down. It was...ugly. Remarkably ugly. Like a hybrid of monkey and cockroach, and crawling with unlikely speed towards Xander's face. Tara reached it first, slashing with her sword. With a jerking shudder, it collapsed, spewing brown liquid.

Xander scampered away from the mess on top of him. She hardly blamed him. "Muskrats! Too many muskrats!" he babbled. "I'll never get my merit badge! Never! NEVER!" This last was said with a note of terrible despair. He stopped squirming, eyes bulging in some vision of horror only he could see. "Never, never, never, never..." Xander whispered.

Coming up from behind, Tara sensed two others approaching. One--Anya, of course--rushed past towards her now brain-wrecked boyfriend. "Xander!" she cried out, crouching to his side and looking for wounds. He let her, barely noticing anyone was there.

After several moments, Tara looked at the redhead. "What was that? Do you know?"

She nodded, not so much looking at Tara as peeking at her. Or was that Tara's wishful thinking? "A qweller demon."

"Good." Now what to say? What to do? Tara carefully cleaned the edge of her blade against the grass. She gave Willow a direct look in the face before leaving. It took more to do that than she would have guessed. Willow looked back. And nodded before going to help Anya, who was rocking Xander gently in her arms.

Tara didn't look back. She knew a lot was going on amongst the Slayer's inner circle. Willow would let her know how things were progressing.

A few nights later Willow sat next to Anya at the Magic Shoppe. They'd been preparing for tonight, both realizing it wasn't going to be pleasant. Giles was pacing. He'd had less time to prepare, but in many ways this was going to be worse for him. But he was on Willow's side, albeit reluctantly.

Buffy arrived looking exhausted. Small wonder. Riley and Dawn trailed beside her, the latter seeming much improved. At least there was color in her cheeks again and the bandage on her throat was smaller. Riley was...Riley. Supportive, bearing up, and still a little out of his depth. Buffy herself took one look and seemed to know Something Was Up.

"Good," he said. Nodding, he took off his glasses. Then put them back on again. "Good," he repeated.

"You need help." There she'd said it. Or at least begun to say it. Or begun to begin.

"Thanks, Wil, but I think we've got everything covered. If we need an extra hand or something, don't worry--you're on my list."

Buffy's face shifted slightly. Like a wall slamming into place. "I can handle it."

"How?" Anya piped in. Ever the diplomatic one. "She's wiped the floor with you every time you've met. If you hadn't run away she'd've killed you. At least twice."

"I'll handle it," Buffy said. Her teeth didn't clench, but the effect was the same.

"With respect, Buffy," Giles said, "that is looking less and less likely. From everything we've been able to gather, this Glory is nothing less than a god. What demons are to most ordinary human beings, this entity is to demons. Quite simply, she's out of your league--at least as far as raw strength is concerned." He coughed nervously again, waiting for her reaction. Willow swore she could almost hear her best friend counting to ten. At last she took a breath. Which meant so could Willow.

Giles shared a quick glance with Anya and Willow. "Yes. A few actually. One is to contact Faith and Wesley in Los Angeles. Perhaps two Slayers can accomplish more against this specific threat than one." He waited.

Taking a deep breath, Willow made the plunge. "I want to give the Apostate what he wants." Silence. "Anya and I have been going over Jenny's notes. Together, we believe we can make the spell work. We think we should try." Even before Willow had finished Buffy was shaking her head.

"Actually," pointed out Giles, "we know it did. At once time, at least. Certainly Willow has grown stronger and more skilled since her last attempt."

"What is, then?" Although she knew this was where the danger area lay, Willow didn't back down. "The Apostate is powerful. He's willing to help against Glory."

"Only according to a vampire. I'm sorry, Willow, but someone's got to say this--Tara is a vampire. We can't trust her."

"Even if that's true, you know what he wants his soul back for. Not to be better, or to help out! He wants his soul so he'll be the person in those prophecies Faith brought back--ones he and Tara conned her into stealing!"

Buffy and Willow stared at each other. Lots was going unsaid right now. Would it stay that way? Should it? The moments stretched and stretched.

"This spell, restoring a vampire's soul," he said, "it'll either work or it won't, right? I mean--what's the worst that could happen?"

Nothing was said for what seemed like five minutes. Finally, Buffy spoke. "That's not what's going on here. Willow...she has ulterior motives."

Before Willow could say anything (and what can I say, actually?), Riley said something first. "You mean she hopes the spell will work on Tara?"

"Explain it to me, then." Riley looked around the room. Willow could see suspicion rising in his face. "Somebody explain it. Please? Cause there is something to explain, isn't there?" Nobody said anything in reply. Everyone instead looked at Buffy. Who did her best imitation of a statue. Riley, meanwhile, began to look more than just suspicious. He began to look extremely wary, as if he'd just found what might be a poisonous snake in his bedroom.

"He needs to know," the Watcher replied. "And the subject needs airing. Sit down, Riley."

This time it was Buffy and Giles in a staring contest. And it was Giles who won, with a simple question. "Shouldn't you be the one explaining?" Deflating a little, Buffy took a seat opposite Riley. Before she could say anything, Giles gestured to everyone. Willow joined him with Dawn and Anya in the back room. Clearly, Buffy had a lot to tell her boyfriend. Telling him would be tons easier without witnesses.

No one said anything for the longest time. Five minutes at least. It felt longer. At last Dawn looked at Willow and whispered just loud enough for her to hear...

The Apostate wore a hood for this meeting. Personally, Tara found herself wishing he wore it more often. It completely hid his features in shadow. He'd chuckled putting in on. Sensitivity on his part? Or making a virtue (or something) of necessity? Tara felt she knew the Apostate as well as any, but she couldn't guess what was going on in his mind now.

Midnight was nearing by the time they were halfway there. Neither said anything.

Both vampires arrived last at the ruins of the high school. It was the nearest thing to neutral territory all could agree upon. And understandably the Slayer and her friends were wary of this meeting. Tara held no ill towards any of them. One in particular. But they were wise, in her opinion, not to trust the Apostate. Nor did he expect them to.

Anya and Willow had all the magical implements needed for the ritual. They stood to one side. Buffy and Giles were watching them, clearly at the ready should anything go wrong. Riley was nowhere to be seen. Probably watching over Dawn and Mrs. Summers. Or Xander. Just as well. Since her own imprisonment by the Initiative, Tara had always found herself uncomfortable around the ex-soldier.

Not a word was spoken. The Apostate took his place in the center of the room. Buffy stared at the hooded figure, as did Giles. Beautiful Willow and Anya faced him. One carried a parchment, the other a crystal orb. A circle was already written on the floor. Both witches entered it, then sealed it behind them. No waiting then. No hesitation before reshaping Tara's world.

Attuned as she was to magic, Tara felt a marshalling of forces as the words of the spell were spoken. Return to the body what distinguishes Man from the beast! I implore you Lord, do not ignore this request.

Neither dead, nor of the living, I invoke you, spirit of the passing! Let this orb be the vessel that will carry his soul to him. Each word echoed in the ruined building. The orb itself began to glow. As did the eyes of the two witches. Power crackled with every word.

Tara felt the release like a thunderclap. She nearly saw it, like multihued lightning just beyond the visual range. Willow and Anya looked incandescent, their joined voices searing the air...

Willow looked up at the hooded man sprawled across the floor. She glanced at Anya, who nodded that she was alright. Tara, meanwhile, was rising up on unsteady feet. She even swayed a little. Dizzy? Frightened? Willow watched her anxiously for any sign of change, any hint that she'd been affected.

The Apostate had sat up. His hood was thrown back, revealing his face. Willow recognized it. He had changed, but not that much.

Bald. Feral, golden eyes. Pointed ears. A nose that was more a snout than anything else above a horribly befanged mouth. Only...the expression on his face didn't seem to match. Not at all. It was one of curiosity, puzzlement, blended with something else. Innocence? Of all people--innocence in him?

It was Buffy who said it. She barely breathed the name, but Willow heard it anyway.

Tara approached her sire. He looked at her with no recognition. "My child?" he asked in tones totally at odds with his looks. "What ails you, child?"

"I...don't know" the ancient vampire replied. "Strange. Terribly strange. Methinks...where be this place?" His eyes took in the room around him, the people. Did he not remember who he was? If so, what era might last feel natural for this creature? Willow almost didn't want to guess.

"Cal-i-for-nia?" His accent was odd. The r was very slightly trilled, for example. "I know not a land called California. Be we in the Holy Land? Or perhaps far Cathay?"

"And how came I here?" Weirdly, every phrase out of his mouth seemed...what was a good word? Straightforward? Kindly?

Buffy had been inching closer and closer to him. Every muscle was rigid as she asked "What's the last thing you remember?"

The Apostate considered this. "I was on a trip to market. And took shelter for the night in an abandoned farm."

"Jacob." He pronounced the j as a y. And for the first time glanced at his own hand--or rather, claw. Lifting it up, he stared at it with frightened eyes. "This...what hath become of me?" He looked at the others. "I beg of you--tell what has transpired!"

Giles approached him, not quickly but faster than anyone else. "Listen to me," he said. "Listen!" The Apostate tore his eyes away from the taloned hand that had to be his, gazing at Giles as Willow might at...well, Giles. "You were the victim of a vampire."

"A demon who feeds on the blood of the living. These creatures reproduce by mixing their own blood with that of their victims. Which is what happened to you. You--or rather, your body--has been the host of a vampire."

He nodded, seeming to take all this in. But as his gaze swept the room, taking in the strange architecture, the bizarre (to him) clothes, implications were almost visibly trickling into his face. The resemblance to Riley for a moment was uncanny. And Willow had a horrid feeling things were about to go wrong. The Apostate looked at Giles again, this time his eyes focused and his voice strong.

"Not precisely? Methinks then you have some notion. Tell me." Giles hesitated. "In the name of almighty God," the vampire whispered, "I beg of you. How long?"

Willow nearly moaned in sympathy at the expression on the Apostate's face at this news. She wanted to turn away. And the impulse to do so grew stronger as his face changed again. He had appeared puzzled but terrified. Now, he had a different emotion showing. One quickly eclipsing all others, drowning them.

"...no..." he groaned the word "...no...please..." tears began to well in his eyes. "God in heaven! Please...no...!"

"Jacob!" Giles raised his voice. The vampire didn't seem to respond. "Jacob, it was not you! The demon left you its memories but you did not do those things..."

He didn't have a chance to finish. With a shove, the Apostate (former the Master, and before that evidently a good man named Jacob) sent Giles flying. Buffy caught him, collapsing under his weight with a thud. Yet both were soon up again.

Up in time to see the oldest vampire on earth weeping . His mouth was frozen in an open grimace, eyes bulging upward. To heaven? To god? Begging forgiveness? Or maybe demanding what he'd done to deserve such cruelty? Perhaps all of the above, and more. Willow was awestruck by the suffering on his face.

Then, without hardly a warning, he moved with lightning swiftness. His hands, ending in those horrible talons, swung inward with terrible aim. One took less than a second to gauge its way across his face, shredding an eye en route. At last his scream became audible--a hideous sound like someone condemned to eternal damnation. Which, she supposed, is precisely what it was.

But the scream didn't last. His other taloned hand dove below the ribs, ripping into undead flesh without mercy. Clearly, now that he could feel mercy he felt none for himself. The strangled scream ended abruptly as the Apostate tore the heart from his chest.

These authors spend lots of time to write these stories. If you took the time to read this PLEASE take the time to give them some feedback. Happy writers write more ;-)

Zahir - zahir@brainlink.com

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Back to Zahir

Continue - Part 3