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Scientists call it The Butterfly Syndrome. A butterfly's wings move the air in China in 1945, and what direction that butterfly takes determines how large a hurricane will be when it hits Florida in 1999. In other words, everything affects everything else. And with time, those effects are profound.
Willow Rosenberg waited another ten minutes before starting the spell that would restore the soul of a vampire. That's all. From that, hundreds of changes rippled through the universe. Buffy killed her lover while he was still Angelus, not Angel. As a result, he never returned because the Powers That Be knew he wasn't the Vampire-With-A-Soul called for in a dozen prophecies. Instead, they pulled another vampire out of hell. Known for centuries only as The Master, this vampire had worshipped and served the demons who tortured him unmercifully. Back on Earth, he longed for revenge. Changing his name to The Apostate, he began a personal war on the forces of darkness. One of his first acts was to sire a disciple--a student of subtle but profound power named Tara McClay.
Thus, Willow Rosenberg met her soulmate almost a year earlier than she would have. But when they met, Tara was a vampire. An unusual vampire, to be sure. One trained by a ruthless taskmaster in discipline and self-denial. Tara lost an eye in that process. But more to the point, she'd gained a perspective that allowed her to look on Willow and see something other than food.
It took time, but the vampire Tara McClay fell in love with Willow. After some more time, Willow found herself feeling the same way.
As far as the Slayer and her friends were concerned, Tara remained a mysterioius figure helping them for reasons no one understood. Willow began her affair with Tara in secret. Her friends, she feared, would not understand. She was right. But by the time they faced the hellgod Glory, all of them accepted Tara as an ally. Buffy, in particular, did so reluctantly. Yet she never betrayed them.
Faith, the other Slayer, was also profoundly changed. Without the secret of a returned Angel, Buffy was not so remote. She and Faith grew closer, although never as close as Faith desired. As a result, Faith teetered on the brink of her own darkness without ever quite falling. She never worked for the Mayor, nor framed Buffy for murder, nor murdered for hire. Yet the pain of being so close to a woman she adored but could not have proved too terribly real. Halfway through Buffy's first year in college, Faith relocated to Los Angeles. There, many of the adventures which in one reality had been Angel's became hers. And, like Angel, she never forgot the golden-haired young woman who was her true love.
Likewise, Buffy's death hurt her to the core. And that was not a wound that could not easily heal.
TITLE: "From Childhood's Hour" (Part 1 "The Crying Game")
AUTHOR: Zahir (zahir@brainlink.com)
WEBSITE: http://zahir.150m.com
FEEDBACK: Are you kidding? Please! Pretty please!!
ARCHIVING: Just ask is all.
SYNOPSIS: 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.
COUPLES: W/T, F/G, L/D, F/?
RATING: "R" (for violence and various adult themes)
SPOILERS: Up through and including S5 of "Buffy," halfway through S3 of "Angel." A few minor things after that, but I do mean minor.
DISCLAIMERS: 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. Honest.
NOTES: After writing over nine chapters of "FCH" I decided to start over. Methinks everyone will agree this is much improved, although a few really nice details have of necessity gone bye-bye.
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.
"Can you hear my owls?"
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.
Drusilla giggled. I have a job to do, Lilah said to herself again.
"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."
"Faith, you mean?"
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."
"Uh...the Slayer?"
Drusilla nodded. Then her attention was back to the spinning bird cage.
"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.
"Are you," Lilah said, shaping each word with some effort, "interested?"
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.
"Go on," snapped Lilah.
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.
"He reeks of the Slayer" she purred.
"They are friends. Colleagues. Some of us suspect they might be more."
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.
Grinning, Drusilla turned to Lilah. "I'm going to wait till he's all awake."
Of course, Lilah thought.
* * *
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.
Cute.
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.
Evidently, these demons howled. Or maybe it was a biker thing.
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.
"Faith." Wesley. Always the boy scout.
"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."
His Slayer shrugged. "Girl's gotta have fun somehow."
"Gunn was killed by vampires. The signs were plain."
"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.
"Feel better?" Tara asked simply, neither nervous nor judging. She liked that.
"Kinda. Some."
Tara nodded. "That's good."
"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.
"No," Wesley began.
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.
"So," she said with a toss of her head, "you got a place to stay yet or not?"
* * *
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.
"Thank you."
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?"
No response.
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.
"Drusilla?"
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.
Lilah knelt in front of Drusilla. Tried to meet her eyes.
"Can I help you? Is there anything you want?"
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.
"Mummy?"
Okay, this was another disturbing twist. "What is it, Dru?"
"Can I have a sweetie?"
Damn. "A little later. Okay?"
"But I'm feeling badly now."
"We'll get you something in a bit. Promise."
"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.
"Mummy?"
"Yes, Dru?"
"My sweetie."
"What about it?"
"Can it scream?"
"I think...yeah, I think we can arrange that."
* * *
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.
"Oh."
"You see, Faith and Gunn had gotten close. Remarkable so..."
"I think I see where this is going."
"Perhaps." Wesley nearly squirmed. He clearly felt uncomfortable talking about Faith's private life. Yet just as clearly he also believed it necessary.
"Go on," Tara urged.
"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..."
"Closeness."
"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.
"Detective Lockley. To what do we owe this pleasure?"
"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."
"Have you learned anything?"
"That's what I'm here for."
"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."
"You're wrong."
"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.
Lockley reminded her of Faith.
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.
Detective Lockley cocked her head ever so slightly. "Do I know you?"
"I was in LA for a month or two last year."
"What's your name?"
"Tara."
Willow wrapped her arm through Tara's. "She's with me."
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.
"Can I help you?" Tara said at last.
Eyes narrowing, Lockley replied after a moment. "I doubt it." She leaned in, cross forward.
Tara couldn't help it. She flinched.
"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.
She knew.
TO BE CONTINUED