TITLE: Never The Twain? (Part 12/31)
AUTHOR: Zahir
FEEDBACK: You're kidding. Of course!
ARCHIVING: Just ask is all.
SYNOPSIS: This is an alternate history in which Willow never completed the Soul Restoration Spell. Of all the changes that flow from that one, the biggest is that Tara is a vampire.
COUPLES: W/T (kinda), X/Ay, B/R
RATING: R for violence. I mean it!
SPOILERS: Up through and including "Listening to Fear."
DISCLAIMERS: Most of 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.

* * *

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.

Willow stopped next to Tara.

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."

"Do they come in groups?"

"I...don't think so."

"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.

"Okay," she said, giving the work about six syllables. "Anything to report."

"First things first," replied Giles. "How is your mother?"

"Comfortable," said Buffy. "For now. We'll know more later."

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

"Buffy," Willow finally said.

"Wil?"

"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."

Giles coughed. "She meant about Glory."

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.

"You have any suggestions?"

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.

Buffy didn't react. "What else?"

Now Giles looked at Willow. So did Buffy. And Riley. Along with Dawn.

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.

"It doesn't work."

"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."

"That's not the point!"

"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."

"She was human when she told us what the Apostate wants."

"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!"

"And how does that make it a bad thing to do? Giving a vampire back his soul?"

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.

"Um...I don't get it." Riley spoke up.

His girlfriend looked at him.

"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?"

"Well," Buffy did a take. "Yeah."

"Still don't get it. Okay, she might get hurt but that's her call, isn't it?"

"You don't understand."

"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.

"Angel."

"Giles!" Buffy hissed.

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

"I'd rather stand."

"No you don't," said Anya. He gave her a look, then slowly took a seat.

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...

"Is it true? Are you in love with Tara?"

* * *

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.

They each began to chant.

"Reda trupului ce separa omul de animal!
Te implor Doamne, nu ignora aceasta rugaminte."

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.

"Nici mort, nici al fiintei, te invoc, spirit al trecerii!
Lasa orbita as fie vasul care-i va transporta sufleutul la el."

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.

"Asa sa fie! Asa sa fie!"

Willow had begun shouting now. Her voice pierced Tara, like a knife.

"Acum!"

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...

"ACUM!"

Everyone in the room was knocked over, as if by a sudden wind.

* * *

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.

No one said anything for the longest time. Until Buffy gasped.

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.

"The Master...!"

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?"

"How are you feeling?" Tara asked, her voice neutral.

"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.

"Sunnydale" spoke up Giles. "In California."

"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?"

"Nearly halfway to the latter, I should say."

"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."

Next Tara spoke up. "What is your name?"

"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!"

Tara looked to Willow. But what could she say? What could any of them say?

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."

"Vampire? What is that?"

"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."

"I have been possessed?"

"Precisely. Until just a few moments ago."

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.

"How long?"

"We don't know precisely."

"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?"

"At least eight hundred years."

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.

Horror.

"...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.

And he collapsed into dust and bones. Dead. Again.

Willow hoped at peace. She found herself praying he was at peace.

TO BE CONTINUED