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Tall and thin, he was middle aged and wore the simplest of suits. No tie. His hair was brown and eyes grey. For whatever reason he held his lips tight, making them even thinner than nature intended. She hadn't recognized him at first. Years past she had seen him, putting up posters of his missing daughter in downtown Sunnydale. Only that once. That was how Willow had learned her name.
Now that she recognized him, Willow could make out traces of resemblence.
She hadn't heard everything Detective Lockley said when she arrived with Mr. Mclay. Implications began shrieking to her. What little Tara had told hinted at a youth far crueller than she liked to imagine. Few details, but hints here and there. Like the casual mention of a brother breaking Tara's arm, and getting away with it. To Willow, Tara's refusal to discuss her past was a terrrible clue, especially in light of her willingness to talk about what it was like to be a newborn--or newrisen--vampire. Whatever lay before that was something the normally fearless Tara avoided. And here was the man at the center of that time, the seed from which the Tara she knew had grown. Looking for a missing child--a runaway--a brother missing as well--Lockley's words just spurred Willow to insist they leave. Now! She didn't want to discuss anything, or answer questions. No, she didn't want any answered either. Leave! Before her Tara returned and--and did what?
But now Tara had returned. Simply opened the door and walked in. Amid the silence that followed, she stared at her father. And stuttered the word "D-d-dad?"
Stuttering? Tara?
Mr. Mclay nodded his head at her. "I..." he began, then faltered. One hand gestured to her. "Your eye." The Tara he knew had two eyes. Willow's Tara had lost hers soon after turning. "Can you tell me what..." he took a moment to swallow, then continued with a catch in his voice. "We thought you gone forever. Now...I'm here, now. Your father's here." He took a step forward. A slow step, tentative even but a step without question. Willow held her breath. Then he took another step, putting him close enough to lay a hand on his daughter's shoulder.
Tara said nothing. Just looked up at him.
In that silence, he finally said "Long time." Willow barely heard him. "Too long. I can't guess what you've had to go through. Maybe that's even partially my fault. You're my daughter, my responsibility, and I should have taken better care. But no more. Past is past, and now I'm here to make amends." His voice was husky. Against her will, Willow believed him on the verge of tears. Or almost on the verge. Somewhere near, anyway.
No one said anything forever. More, no one did anything. Willow simply watched, vaguely aware that nearby Wesley and Faith hovered, staring. Lockley, closer, was also still, but hers was the quiet of a bowstring drawn tight, ready to let an arrow fly.
Mor importantly, Tara spoke not a word. She looked, expressionless, at her father. Then, she reached up and took his hand.
"TARA!" he screamed!
She had grabbed his wrist and given it a savage twist!
Before anyone else could act, Lockley had a crucifix in Tara's face, who flinched but didn't let her father go. "Let him go," said the Detective through clenched teeth.
"Nooooooo" the word came past Tara's lips halfway between a moan and a sigh. Her one eye nearly burned, but like ice. It didn't leave the face of her father, either. "Been looking for me?" she asked, "I almost came looking for you. Almost."
"Tara...!" Mr. Mclay was actually shaking in pain as Tara twisted still further, forcing him down onto his knees. Willow didn't dare move. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wesley and Faith frozen in much the same way. "Tara...please!"
"Please what, Dad?" Willow had never heard such venom in Tara's voice. Oh goddess, love--what did he do to you? But she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
Detective Lockley acted. She pressed the crucifix directly onto Tara's hand--whose instant reaction was to snarl. But she didn't let go! Instead her other hand did something Willow had never even heard of any vampire trying to do. With her free hand, she GRABBED the crucifix. Steam rose from where it touched her, and the sickening odor of burnt flesh wafted through the room. It must have been agony, but Tara actually pulled the cross from the detective's hand, tossing it across the room with another snarl.
When she turned back the Demon showed full in her face--feral gold of eye, furrowed brow and protruding fangs. "BACK! Back--or I'll shred his throat!"
Now Lockley froze. She waited for a never-ending second before shifting her weight back. Not really a retreat but evidently enough. Tara's attention went back to her father.
"Surprised, Dad? You seem surprised. I wonder why?" She leaned in, to within inches of his sweating face. "All my life you told me I was a demon. That was my destiny, remember? The destiny of all the Mclay women--the reason we had to be controlled? Like my mother. Remember?" This last didn't seem a word, more like an animal sound--if wolves could speak and were enraged. "I remember, Dad," Tara hissed. "I remember every single thing. Hours spent on my knees, while you preached. Every word out of my mouth dismissed. I was a demon, after all. Lying was just part of the package, right?" This last didn't sound like a snarl--it was one.
Mr. Mclay groaned as Tara squeezed. "Listen this time, maybe I won't snap your bones," Tara whispered.
"Most of all, I remember the medicine. You were so careful to give that medicine to Mom every day. Every single day. To keep her quiet, keep the demon from coming out. Wasn't that the reason? You gave the same medicine to your mother, didn't you? Remember? At the end she could hardly stand. She could barely eat. But you still poured it down her throat." Another twist and Mr. Mclay cried out. "You were going to give it to me!"
Willow's mind reeled. She had wondered what kind of childhood Tara had had, and some of her imaginings were from the darkest sides of after school specials. This, though...
Could it be true?
"Tara," he gasped, "listen to me...the part of you that really is my Tara...that part of you knows what needs to be done..." but he screamed suddenly as Tara twisted. He tried to pry her had off, to no avail. He was only human, after all.
"I met someone, Dad," Tara continued, hardly paying any attention to his efforts to break free. Her voice assumed an almost converstional tone. "When I went to Sunnydale, I met someone. He wasn't a nice person. Far from it. In fact, he was a vampire--and when he was done, so was I. He killed me, drained my body of blood, but fed me enough of his own that I rose from the dead. Do you believe me when I tell you that? Do you believe I'm a vampire?" Her voice lowered slightly. "Well? Do you?"
Nothing.
Tara looked at Lockley. "You believe, don't you?"
Without breaking focus, the detective nodded. She still looked ready to spring at any moment.
Again, Tara turned to her father. "Why don't you believe, Dad. Do you think I'm wearing makeup maybe? Want proof?" The smile on her face sent chills up Willow's spine.
"I...believe you, Tara." The man's face glistened with sweat. He trembled.
"Good!" Tara sank to one kneee. She held her father's arm as tightly as before, but no tighter. As of that moment they were face to face. Equals. When Tara spoke, her voice was quiet. Yet her quiet was no less dangerous that Lockley's stillness. "Dad? You had so much to say about demons and the devil and god. But the truth is, you really don't know many details. Never did. Well, now I'm a real expert. Especially when it comes to vampires. And here's something I bet you didn't know." She paused for effect, and it worked. Even knowing--as she had already figured out--what Tara was about to tell her father, Willow waited on a knife's edge. "Only humans can become vampires."
There it was. Willow felt sick. Not in her worst thoughts had she suspected this. Quite simply, this was one of the most spectacularly vicious things she'd ever seen.
"Its true," she found herself saying. "Vampires can only reproduced by feeding. And they can't drink demon blood. Animals sometimes, but even then animals can't get turned. Only humans."
"You fucking bastard," muttered someone behind her. Faith.
"Actually, that's similar to what I was thinking," added Wesley.
"Like it matters!" hissed Lockley.
"It matters!" Willow said. "It matters a lot!"
"Not anymore," hissed Tara. "Because I know the truth. And so does Dad." She continued to stare into his blinking eyes. "More, now he knows I know."
She rose up in a single fluid motion, releasing her vise-grip on Mr. Mclay, who nearly fell over. As she rose, Tara' face morphed back into that of a lovely young girl, still a teenager, albeit a pale one. "Come near me again, Dad--try and talk to me or Willow--send us a postcard--mention either one of us to anyone you know...and I turn you into a slurpie." Then she looked at Lockley. "Get out. I'm of age. I don't want to see my father. No crime has been committed. Get out."
Less than a minute later, they were gone.
TO BE CONTINUED