TITLE: Never The Twain? (Part 13/31)
AUTHOR: Zahir
FEEDBACK: You're kidding. Of course! In fact, please.
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. Oh, and Faith never worked for the Mayor.
COUPLES: W/T (kinda), F/L (even more kinda--you figure that one out)
RATING: PG13
SPOILERS: Up through and including "Listening to Fear," as well as some stuff from "Angel."
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. And I have no real rights to any of the songs herein either. Oh, same thing for the authors of the songs quoted herein.
NOTE: The part of Jocelyn in my own mind is played by Gigi Edgely. For those of you who don't know, she portrays Chiana on the TV show "Farscape."

* * *

Willow gaped.

And that surprised her. She'd had plenty of experience with the strange and bizarre over the last few years. Vampires. Demons. Monsters of one stripe or another. Several would-be apocalypses. This, though...this was beyond any of that.

"Like a WUR-gin," the Thing-On-Stage crooned, "Touched for the WUR-ry first time..."

He had leathery purple skin. And a beak. The tentacles he had instead of fingers held a drink, which sported a small umbrella.

"Like WUR-ur-UR-ur-gin..."

Plus the leisure suit. That was maybe the worst part.

By an effort of will, she managed to very nearly ignore the singer. It helped to not look. She turned instead to her companions, who took in the environment with a nonchalance Willow could not but envy. Faith, the dark-haired slayer, actually seemed to be enjoying herself. Of course, some of that was probably pleasure at Willow's reaction. Wesley, the Watcher, managed to seem calm enough. So too did their companion, a handsome black man named Gunn (though Willow believed she'd caught him staring now and then). Riley had a phony grin on his face, trying to be polite. He seemed to be succeeding, mostly.

"So, does this go on much" asked Willow?

Wesley nodded. "Pretty much."

"The place is open every night till two," added Faith.

"Okay," said Willow. She snuck a peak at the stage again. "And why do they sing karaoke again?"

Gunn pointed at the a green demon with red eyes and black horns (wearing a rather nice tangerine tuxedo) sitting at the bar. "The Host there," he explained, "he gets visions about folks when they sing. So he sets up shop in this place."

"Yes, the Caritas is neutral territory," Wesley said. "No one hurts anybody here. So its a safe place to meet."

"That makes sense," said Riley. "I guess."

"So, Red," piped up Faith, turning to Willow, "what's up with Bee? What brings you and Beefcake down to LA?"

Willow took a deep breath. "Buffy needs help..."

* * *

Tara didn't mind the sports car. Lindsay's mild flirting with her annoyed at first, but he was smart enough to stop. What puzzled her though was why he insisted on coming to this place. It took her less than two seconds after arriving to realize he was very much in the minority--a mere human. On the other hand, he was a Lawyer. Maybe that made him an honorary monster.

He led her to a seat in a shadowed part of the bar. She lost what he was saying as her attention suddenly whipped across the room to a collection of mostly-familiar faces. One in particular.

"Tara? Are you alright?"

"I'm...fine. Just distracted a little is all."

Lindsay did a very good reassuring smile. She nearly believed it. "I understand. My jaw scraped the floor my first time." Interestingly, his own gaze did a take as he swept the room. Even more interestingly was the direction in which he reacted.

"Someone you know?" That would make for a wild coincidence.

"An almost girlfriend. Maybe a future one." He gestured towards the same table. Oh goddess. This could not be happening.

"The redhead?"

He shook his head. "Brunette. We're in an adversary situation at present, but circumstances are subject to change."

"So are you saying There's Hope?"

The smile again. She'd swear this one was genuine. Interesting. The mask does slip. "Faith, actually." With that pun (which he probably didn't know she got) Lindsay handed her a menu of songs. Although she had no plans to sing, Tara dutifully looked over the selections. It provided her the opportunity to stealthily observe Willow.

* * *

"Hi! Refresh anybody's drinks?" The waitress was just one more reason Willow had to try and not stare. As demons (demonesses?) she was cute--short blonde hair with blue highlights, pointed ears and catlike eyes. The plastic name tag read 'Jocelyn.' Odd name for a demon.

"Uh..no, thanks. Not right now."

"Check with ya later!" She actually winked as she headed back to the bar. Willow couldn't help but react as she noticed that Jocelyn had a rather long tail. It carried a bottle at roughly waist level.

Riley coughed. "Well. That's different."

"Hey, she's alright," commented Gunn. "Couple of months back we saved her from some really nasty dudes."

"You save demons?" Riley's eyebrows shot up at that one. Willow could sympathize.

"Special case," said Wesley. "Jocelyn's a half breed. As were her parents, I understand. Sunnydale tends to attract malevolent beings because of the Hellmouth, but there are many such creatures with no specific negative tendencies."

"Okay, so she's a not-evil demon?"

"Pretty much," agreed Faith. "Group of nazi-clones called the Scourge were going around hunting all the half-breeds they could find. Didn't care who got in the way. We stopped them. Then Jocelyn started working here."

Willow digested this. She shared a look with Riley. "Life in the big city," she ventured.

He shrugged. "Guess so."

Gunn lifted his beer. "Hey. Next victim is up."

Sure enough, the Host had led the scattered applause for the beaked and tentacled Madonna fan. He was now introducing the next person up--something about a newcomer to the City of Angels. Willow resolutely decided to be polite and not squirm. After all, why should all demons be evil? Were all human beings good? Of course not. So what if she hadn't met many? Giving a people a chance was the right thing to do.

Tara stepped on stage.

Willow nearly forgot to breathe.

Although a couple of dozen questions immediately came to mind, the one that bubbled up to her mind first was perhaps the strangest. Or most normal. Depended how you looked at it. What was she going to sing?

The music began. A ballad. It sounded familiar. Tara lifted the microphone and started to sing.

"Some say love, it is a river" she began, "that drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor
that leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger,
an endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower,
and you its only seed."

Her voice was strong yet gentle. It nearly spoke rather than sang. Yet she didn't falter, nor did her voice crack. And to Willow, each note sent an odd vibration through her.

"It's the heart afraid of breaking
that never learns to dance.
It's the dream afraid of waking
that never takes the chance."

Tara's gaze seemed fixed somewhere else. As if she sang to someone she could not see. Or was afraid to.

"It's the one who won't be taken,
who cannot seem to give,
and the soul afraid of dyin'
that never learns to live."

Dimly, Willow noticed she wasn't the only one who'd fallen silent. The entire bar was listening, intent. Yet Tara's voice wasn't really that good. Far from bad, but to gather this much attention? Could it be she wasn't the only one hearing something personal in those words? If so, didn't that mean she wasn't imagining it? The music picked up, and Tara looked at the audience for the first time.

At Willow.

"When the night has been too lonely," she sang,
"And the road has been to long,
and you think that love is only
for the lucky and the strong,"

Willow held her breath.

"Just remember in the winter
far beneath the bitter snows
lies the seed that with the sun's love
in the spring becomes the rose."

For one moment, as the music faded, there was silence. Then, a shaggy-looking man nearly seven feet tall stood up. He had long drooping ears and a snout. His red eyes gleamed. And he brought his hands together like a thunderclap, again and again. Less than a second later the entire club seemed to be joining in his applause. Willow snuck a look out the corner of his eye, saw Faith and her companions with stunned expressions joining in. Even Riley clapped his hands.

Tara was a hit. But she barely acknowledged the accolades. At her side, the behorned Host swept in, grinning and adding his own applause.

"How about that, folks? The vampire with a bleeding heart!"

She headed off the stage. Willow couldn't tell if the last look she gave the audience was aimed at her or not. But she had to admit--she was hoping it had been.

* * *

Tara paced, waiting for the Host. Lindsay hovered.

"Wow. You'd be a real treat at the office talent show. Give me a run for my money." Again, the calculated smile. Well, he was trying to recruit her, after all. Did he even know she was behind the theft of his precious prophecy? Would it matter?

At last the Host approached. "You know," he said beaming, "the undead are usually associated with bats. Keep it up, sweetheart, and they'll think of vampire along with nightingale!" It was a nice enough compliment. Were she in another mood, Tara might well have thanked him. Of course, if she were in another mood, she wouldn't have sung at all.

"So now you read my destiny, is that it?"

"That's the way it works, angel. Or should I say--fallen angel?" Silence. Then...

"Nice turn of phrase."

"I try."

"But I need to know..."

"What to do with yourself? Now that your sire is dead, no longer directing your destiny? How should you spend eternity now that his fanatical purpose no longer pushes you?"

"Yes."

The Host raised one eyebrow. "It has been written," he said with the ghost of smile.

"And that means what?"

"Your destiny. It has been written. For centuries. The second you began singing I could sense it. With the first note I saw the basics. By the time you got to the second verse I pretty much had the picture. You, my dear Tara, are a creature of legend. Even among our kind. Something of a messiah, even. And in a deeply, deeply ironic kind of way." He took this opportunity to have the waitress bring him a drink. "You see," he continued after a sip, "there's this prophecy, which you pretty much know about already. In fact, the late unlamented--although somewhat lamented, come to think of it--well, the late Apostate was indeed a figure of destiny as he suspected. The Powers That Be did indeed pull him out of hell just to create the Vampire With A Soul. But he got one little detail wrong. That creature, the Vampire With A Soul, was never meant to be him. It's you."

Lindsay did a take. Tara knew how he felt. Only she realized something.

"That's not possible."

"Wrong, doll. Its a certainty."

"I remember what it was like to be human," she insisted, "very well. So I remember what having a soul was like. And trust me, my soul isn't here. What you're looking at is a vampire. Period."

"Semi-colon, actually. And you're right as far as that goes. But you do have a soul."

Tara stepped closer to him. "If I had a soul, then I wouldn't even consider working for Wolfram and Hart. With a soul, I'd feel guilty about ripping my brother's throat out and sucking up all his blood. But I don't. Truth is, the memory of that moment makes me feel a little warm inside. Because I don't have a soul, I killed one of my lovers and turned her into a demon like me. So don't tell me I have a soul. I don't!"

"Ah, darling, you don't understand."

"She's not the only one," added Lindsay, brow furrowed and eyes piercing. He's shifted to business mode now. Oddly reassuring, that.

"Then let me explain," the Host continued. He looked directly into Tara's face. "I never said you had your original soul. Nor did I say your soul was in physical residence. But believe me--you have a soul." Every word was said with such utter calm certainty that Tara felt confused. It didn't help that the Host appeared slightly amused, as if sharing a secret joke.

Now he gestured slightly to the stage. "In fact, your soul is getting up to sing right now."

She turned. And stared. The world stopped for a moment.

Looking nervous as hell, but smiling with an unbearably cute courage, Willow was bringing the microphone up to her mouth. The music began, and after the opening riff, she began to sing. Her voice was unsteady but the determination was there and it compensated for a lot.

"Its not unusual to be loved by anyone," the red haired witch sang.

Tara had never felt so terrified. Or exhilarated. She just watched and listened to the beautiful Willow, forgetting the rest of creation for as long as the long-song lasted.

TO BE CONTINUED