NEVER THE TWAIN? (1/31)
Author: Zahir (zahir@brainlink.com)
Rating: PG13
Couples: W/T (eventually, kinda)
Spoilers: Through the third season.
Notes: This is an Alternate Timeline in which Willow never completed the Soul Restoration Spell on Angelus. From that moment on, things change.
Archiving: Just ask first.
Feedback: Oh, please!
Disclaimer: The toys I'm playing with belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, who are far too cool to sue me because after all I don't really have anything they'd want I hope and pray please oh please.
***

Tied up and held prisoner by minions of evil, Willow tried to look on the bright side. Actually, this proved easier than expected. For one thing, the chair was comfortable. She'd been kidnapped enough to appreciate this. And the room where she was held was dry, well-lit, and had central air. The Mayor of Sunnydale might be a very, very evil sorcerer (or whatever) who had demons on the payroll, but at least he had a nice house. Willow had been in plenty of lairs before, and this was by far the most pleasing.

Of course the vampires watching her hungrily from the door interfered with her appreciation. But she was kinda getting used to them as well. If they hadn't drained her dry in the last hour odds were against them doing it anytime soon.


When the door opened she briefly hoped to see her friends rescue her. But it swung open at far too leisurely a pace. Rescues were never slow. They happened frantically, with speed all-important, depending on the sowing of the confusion and the distracting of the minions. Sure enough, it was the Mayor himself who entered, his chief Lieutenant by his side--a girl barely older than Willow herself. At least she looked little older. With vampires it was hard to tell.

"Miss Rosenberg!" The Mayor's voice was like the ultimate self-help guru. It matched his smile--warm and friendly, like Mr. Rogers in an Armani suit. "I'd like to welcome you to my little abode, but that would be a bit hypocritical, don't you think? Must provide an honest role model!"

"Okay. How about you tell folks how you're really a hundred years old and have been feeding them to demons all this time?" Willow was actually rather proud of this retort. She hadn't delivered it with much venom, of course. In fact, her voice had wavered, even cracked.

Still, the Mayor seemed to appreciate it. He chuckled. Willow found the sound a little disturbing. That the vampire guards looked nervous was even more disturbing, since they presumably knew their boss.

"Clever girl! But then, I expected no less. You know, if I didn't need you to trade for the Box of Abraxas your friends stole, I'd might try and recruit you. Some people have been known to call me a headhunter--and a pretty good one if I say so myself!" Again with the diabolically hearty chuckle.

"I won't be here long."

"Let's hope not." He nodded. "Well, see you later. So many atrocities, so little time and all that." He turned to go, stopping only as he realized his Lieutenant hadn't moved.

"Tara? Aren't you coming?"

"I'd like to stay here for awhile."

The Mayor shrugged. As ever, he seemed both purposeful and cheerful. "As you wish. Just remember our guest is still underage--and we need her intact for the exchange." With that he was gone.

Willow made herself remain still as the blonde vampire approached. Tara--so that was her name. Buffy and the others had taken to calling her Little Miss Cyclops because of the eyepatch. Now at least Willow knew her name. And the exact shade of blue in her remaining eye as it raked over her.

Tara gestured to the minions without turning around. Her fellow vampires obediantly stepped outside the room. Now they were alone. Tara, or Little Miss Cyclops, clearly wanted it that way. Exactly why was the question.

"You're pretty."

"Uh...thank you?" How to respond to a compliment from a vampire.

"Don't be afraid."

"Yeah, well, I'd like not to be--but this whole getting kidnapped and tied up then having a vampire stare at me--not that you don't stare well, 'cause you do--it's all kinda a little bit nerve-wracking. You know?" Conversation. That might be the ticket. Keep her distracted and whatever you do don't mention food or eating or especially drinking.

"Yes. I do know."

"Really?

"Before I was turned, my Sire kidnapped me. He chained me in a cave, fed me, talked to me for hours on end."

"Wow. That's...well...different. I guess. Anybody I know?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Great! With her luck that means Tara's Sire was one of the vampires Buffy had killed. Still, who' s to say that Sire and Childe got along? Maybe this wasn't going to be too bad.

The vampire kissed her. Willow could feel her eyes almost bulge out of their sockets at this unexpected bit of whatever. She fully expected to feel fangs erupt from the blonde girl's mouth as it grazed her own. But no, it was simply a kiss. And on a completely physical level, not an unpleasant one. More than a peck but far less than a passionate liplock. The whole thing lasted an eternal two seconds.

After that, the Vampire Tara turned around and left.

***

Later that same night, Tara hovered outside a seedy motel. This wasn't one of her usual haunts. One reason why happened after she'd been waiting nearly half an hour. Some stranger--drunk, most likely--thought he knew what a teenage girl would be doing in this part of town. He decided to take her up on what he assumed she was selling. Tara let him live. For one thing, his blood tasted foul--alcohol, nicotine, fat. And besides, she disliked as a rule killing her prey. It was short-sighted in a host of ways, not the least because it attracted attention.

Her would-be customer soon lay unconscious behind a dumpster, weakened by likely to survive. Tara paid him no more mind. Inside another ten minutes the person she wanted to see came in view...

Slender like a blade. Hair dark as raven's wings. Skin white as pearl. Every syllable of body language conveying what she so clearly was--a hunter. A killer. Not unlike Tara herself.

Faith. A vampire slayer. One of the Chosen.

"Good evening, Slayer." Tara's voice carried just far enough for the dark-haired girl to hear. And to respond by spinning into a defensive stance. "I didn't come here to fight." Tara stepped out of the shadows. letting the Slayer see her. She actually walked further into the light, cutting herself off from any possible backup. Faith, far too battlewise (even at seventeen) not to realize this, hesitated. Besides, she knew who this was--Little Miss Cyclops.

"You wanna die, you just keep coming."

Tara stopped. "Alright. I have a message. Two actually."

"Okay, I'm listening."

"The Mayor has your friend Willow Rosenberg. He intends to kill her unless you and the others return to him what you stole--the Box of Abraxas. What he wants to do is an exchange. The Box for your friend."

Faith continued to hesitate. Tara could almost see the wheels spinning in her mind. Attack now? Or agree? Or go get her allies? Or--yes, she had been paying attention. "You said two messages."

"Yes. The first was what I just told you. From the Mayor. The second is from me."

"Go on."

"You don't have to trade. Personally, I'd prefer it if you didn't. With a little bit of inside knowledge, you should be able to break into the Mayor's mansion and rescue Willow. The Mayor might keep his word and return her. Its even likely. But don't believe for a second he would hesitate to kill her just to be safe. Better if you don't trust to his good will."

Faith had listened to all this very carefully. "I thought you and the Mayor were tight? Best buds and all since Mr. Trick got dusted."

"He pays me. That doesn't mean I like the man. What I want is what's best for me, not whatever plan he has going."

Now all Tara could do was wait. Wait and see how the Slayer responded. They were in something of a standoff, and both knew it. But Tara had deliberately put the decision with Faith. She waited for a full minute. Then another.

"Okay," the dark-haired girl finally replied, "lets hear what you've got planned."

***

By sunset of the next day, Willow was thinking about parallel times. She was a prodigy, even sometimes teaching computer classes in her high school (which should have been illegal but never mind that). So she'd long ago learned about how the universe on a quantum level was in a state of flux, fixed into a specific state by the act of observation. In other words, looking at something determined what it was. Which brought up the intriguing possibility of other observers, i.e. alternate realities existing parallel to our own simply because the observers there perceived things a little differently. In theory, almost any possibility could exist.

Only Willow knew this was more than theory. A magic spell had let her meet an alternate Willow, one native to a Sunnydale wherein no Slayer had ever come. Details remained sketchy, but at least one stood out like a pillar of fire. That Willow had been a vampire--and more than a little interested in her twin. Interested in a sexual way. A very sexual way.

So Willow had been kissed by a vampire before. Another female vampire.

Yet this one's kiss had been different. Little Miss Cyclops--or Tara--hadn't been threatening. She hadn't hinted at rape or feeding or turning Willow into some kind of playmate. She simply kissed her. Then walked away.

I wonder why she walked away? Then Willow asked herself the next obvious question--why am I wondering why she walked away?

These questions distracted her enough she didn't even notice the crashing and banging that was going on outside the room. When the doors burst open, she was genuinely surprised at seeing Buffy and Faith, backed up by Xander and Oz. It even took her a split second to realize the truth--she was being rescued!

***

The vampire named Tara handed the Box to her boss, the Mayor of Sunnydale. His was a genuine smile at receiving it, like a local attorney getting that golfing trophy he'd dreamt-of for years.

"Well, Tara, you certainly deliver! And color me impressed with some highlights of grateful!" This time his chuckle was quieter, somehow more intense. "Did you have to kill anyone to get it?" he asked offhandedly.

"No. The Slayers and their strongest were rescuing their friend. Meanwhile, the others had relaxed, believing we had accepted a trade."

"Hm. I'll a little surprised you didn't take the opportunity to feed."

"I believe in self control."

"Good for you! Yes indeedy--good for you! And that's why I made you my number two after the loss of the lamented Mr. Trick. I think you've got what it takes for what we used to call The Long Haul."

Tara didn't say anything to that. She wasn't the type to talk that much. Besides, she had her own agenda.

"Oh, and Tara?"

"Yes?"

"I've got a little gift for you in the next room. Call it a bonus for service above and beyond." With that the cheerful infernalist took his box and left the room, humming "God Bless America." Tara waited until he'd gone before approaching the door where here Bonus waited. She was by nature cautious, but the fact is she couldn't see any reason to be nervous. Experience told her the Mayor was quite capable of generosity. He was also perfectly willing to destroy anyone or anything in his way. Yet it wasn't his way to be deviously cruel. If this was a trap, the style was not that of the Mayor.

She opened the door.

Her brother Donnie was trussed up on the wall. As she entered his gagged mouth cried out, while eyes pleaded (and ordered) her to help him.

Donnie had never been that bright. After tormenting her for eighteen years did he really expect her to be on his side? When she was nine he'd drowned her cat. At age seven she'd awakened to find her hair glued to pillow. In order to get Tara to do his chores Donnie had given her more bruises that she could count. Of course, all that had been Before. Before she'd become a being utterly at odds with the naive girl once called Tara Maclay.

Yet she still remembered every little torture her brother had so cheerfully inflicted. Donnie's struggles were growing now as she watched him and made no move to help. He tried to make himself understood through the gag. Tara thought she made out "Do something!"

With a smile, she allowed the demon to show in her face. Donnie's eyes bulged. They were still bulging as his sister drove her fangs into his throat...