TITLE: Never The Twain? (Part 14/31)
AUTHOR: Zahir
FEEDBACK: 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, X/Ay, B/R
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: Up through and including "Checkpoints," 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.
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 tried, but couldn't become invisible as Giles and Buffy stared. Behind her, Riley reached out and touched her shoulder. She was grateful for the support.

"Okay," said the slayer, with deliberate patience, "why did you bring her here again?"

"The host said to."

"And this host is...?"

"He's a psychic demon who runs a karaoke bar."

They looked at her. They they looked at Riley. He nodded. "Yep."

Giles and Buffy exchanged a glance. It was Giles who spoke next. "Willow," he said, taking off his glasses, "you went to Los Angeles to recruit Faith. And you brought back..." The glance he aimed at the other side of the Shoppe spoke volumes, none of them reassuring.

"You brought a demon back because another demon told you to?" Buffy wasn't blinking. Not a good sign.

"Faith and Wesley seemed to think it was a good idea," offered Riley.

Now they all looked at their visitor, all five foot four inches of her with pale blue skin, pointed ears and prehensile tail. Jocelyn's feather-like hair was taking in the Magic Shoppe like a kid in a candy factory. Catlike eyes darted from one item to the next, and then the next. Then she noticed their staring. Grinning, she approached them.

"Wow!" proclaimed the half-breed. "This place is sooooooo...wow."

"Thank you," murmured Giles.

"And you run the place?"

"In theory."

"Need some help? I'll be needing a job."

"Ah. Well. You see..." Giles put his glasses back on. Again. "Even in a shop devoted to the supernatural, the clientele have limits to what they will accept." He actually looked embarrassed.

Jocelyn didn't. "You mean the way I look," she said. Closing her eyes, she concentrated. The transformation took a little over one second. Ears changed shape. Her tail retracted (where? Willow couldn't help but wonder). The blue turned pink while the white feather-like mane became cropped blonde hair. The eyes that opened again looked a normal hazel. "What do you think?" She did a pirouette.

Giles coughed. "Impressive," he conceded.

"She's only half demon," Willow pointed out. "Like her parents."

Buffy met Giles' gaze. "I could use some help," he said "what with Anya taking care of Xander." Another great sigh. Willow relaxed. She knew what was coming. "Very well," Giles finally intoned.

Jocelyn jumped up and down.

* * *

Tara stared at Xander. He hardly seemed to notice her. Arms wrapped around knees, crouching in the over-sized chair of Anya's, he kept looking from one corner of the room to the next. It made for a weird, even fascinating pattern. "Wind," he muttered. "Wind always trying to get in." Sometimes he ranted since having so much of his mind ripped away. Other times he'd remain silent for hours, emitting little more than random words. Tonight oracle-like musings came from him, a stream of consciousness said with great purpose--although one no one could understand. "The question is why. Why trying to get in? Something they want here? Or trying to get away from something else, eh? Answer me that, if you can. But only if you know. Not suspect. Know." He started to repeat this last word over and over, in a sing song voice.

Anya loved this man. She didn't really care all that much about anything else, Tara had noticed, but she was willing to do anything for Xander. Even in this state, she refused to leave him. Refused to give in, even to moments of despair and sadness, when her own tears set off Xander's hysterical sobs.

If this happened to Willow, would I take care of her?

Yes.

But the mere thought of Willow reduced in this way terrified her. Apart from any other concern, that danger alone would have brought her back to Sunnydale. Glory was here. Banished Hellgod who did...this...to her victims because she didn't belong in this reality and would go mad herself without their stolen sanity. More, Willow was here. Willow dwelt in this creature's stalking grounds, and wasn't going to leave. So neither would Tara.

Anya stepped back into the room, looking better after some sleep. She fixed her gaze on Xander, noted the lack of change, then gave a nod to Tara.

"Nothing much to report," she told the ex-demon. "He's been quiet."

"Thanks," said Anya, settling in to watch over her boyfriend. After a few moments she looked back at the vampire. "What?"

"You're not checking him for bite marks. I just wanted to thank you for that." Not waiting for a reply, Tara left the apartment. What was there to say, after all?

* * *

Willow left the Magic Shoppe late. She'd spent literally hours researching every single magical aspect of insanity she could find. It made for a daunting task. Yet, despite her tiredness, she immediately recognized the figure lurking in the shadows.

"Hello, Willow" said Tara.

"Hi." Something seemed different. What? "I thought...aren't you living in LA now? Well, not living but kinda undying? Is that the word?"

"It might be. But--no."

"Oh."

"Let me walk you home. This isn't a safe town to walk alone at night."

Left unsaid of course was the main reason Sunnydale was so dangerous--namely, vampires. Vampires like Tara herself. By most standards, this was an ironic offer at least. At worst, it was dangerously insane.

"Okay." She barely hesitated. The two of them made their way through the half-deserted streets. Neither felt any need for hurry.

"I've been thinking about that spell I did," ventured Willow after several minutes.

"Which one?"

"To have my will done? It made Faith and Buffy get engaged for an hour or two there?"

Tara smiled. Willow still felt embarrassed about that incident, but the blonde vampire's smile nearly banished those feelings. She was too tired to deny that. And after all, why should she, really?

"I remember."

"You suddenly appeared. Out of nowhere."

Silence. Tara watched her. In this dim light no doubt she was getting a far better idea of Willow's expression than Willow got of hers.

"Did you ever wonder why?

"Why what?

"I mean--why you showed up? Right then? There?"

"Yes." Her voice was low saying this. For a moment, Willow felt an aching memory of the human Tara, the quiet girl she'd found irresistible in the few hours they'd shared. They were so different. Yet almost painfully similar as well. That Tara had her moments of silence as well, silences filled with meaning and possibilities.

"It...was something I said." More silence. Taking a deep breath, Willow plunged ahead. "I wished for someone who'd be there for me. Just me. No one else." She waited for a reply. Any reply.

The wait lasted nearly an entire minute. "That wish came true." Willow could barely hear her.

"Guess so."

"It still is." Those three words didn't really echo into the night, reverberating back and forth across the night sky so that all the gods and goddesses could hear. Instead, Tara spoke in the same quiet voice she had before. But to Willow, they rocked her like an earthquake. For me. Mine.

Mine.

Her reverie was broken as Tara suddenly stopped, her posture abruptly changing. With a sliding sound, she took the sabre from her back. The vampire looked ready for a fight. But Willow heard nothing. Until...there! Metal clanging against metal, again and again but in the rhythm by now very familiar. Battle. Someone was fighting. With...swords?

Both young women broke out into a run. Less that two blocks away, they followed the sounds to an alley. There, Buffy was driving away a small cluster of heavily armed man-shapes. Weirdly, each was garbed in chain mail. And each wore a mask. Buffy herself was holding her own, face twisted into a grimace of rage. Two of the armored shapes were approaching her from behind. Willow focused her will. The top of a garbage can flew into the back of one shape, making him trip and alerting Buffy to his presence. She spun around, meeting the sweep of his blade with one of her own. Borrowed, presumably, from one of the fallen Shapes.

Tara used her own sword, using less skill (or so it seemed to Willow's eye) but fortified with superhuman strength, speed and endurance. Besides, short of decapitation, a sword couldn't hurt her. And switching to her demon face had a good psychological effect--most of them took off.

All but one.

Buffy had him on the ground, sword at his throat. "Lets see what you are," she murmured. Then she yanked off his mask.

He looked--human. Not bad looking, in fact. The weird tattoo on his forehead was distracting, though.

"Who are you?" asked the Slayer.

"One of a vast army!" His eyes took in the two young women nearing, on either side of Buffy. At Tara, he actually recoiled a little. Willow realized she still wore her demon face. "It doesn't matter," he snarled, "how many allies you may have! We shall send as many as are needed! The Beast shall not prevail!"

Buffy looked at Willow. Then Willow looked at Tara, who looked at Buffy. Now Buffy noticed Tara for the first time. She looked at the two of them. Together.

"Now," she muttered under her breath, "what?"

* * *

In the end Buffy let the soldier go.

Eventually, she let Willow and Tara go as well--not without lots of explanations, though. She did agree that Sunnydale was dangerous, and yes, Tara had protected her best friend before now, but on the other hand Tara was a vampire--and so on. Buffy only backed off after Willow had put on what Tara could only call a resolve-face. At least it defeated Buffy's indignation.

Now they'd walked for another hour or more without a word. Exactly where they went wasn't clear. At least not at first. But Tara gently directed the red-haired witch. She wanted to show her something.

"So..."

"Yes?" Whatever it was, Tara didn't want to press her.

"What's it like?" She glanced nervously at Tara. "Being a vampire?"

Oh. Dear. God.

"Hard to explain." That sounded lame. Worse, it meant nothing. And worse still, it was true. "Its like--the brakes are gone. Everything is increased. Speed and strength, you know about that. But what you lose is what's most interesting."

"Your soul."

"I suppose. But what seems missing to me are all the inhibitions, the little cowardices, the self-imposed limits. Gone. And that is so very, very addictive." Willow was listening. She seemed interested. A good sign. "I think that must be what it'd be like to get drunk. Or really high on drugs. Most of us--I've noticed--get swept up in the sensation. They find the high and do everything they can to stay there."

"But you didn't."

"Oh, yes I did. The first time I killed--you can't imagine what that was like. Being born couldn't have meant more. If someone had disemboweled me, it couldn't have hurt as much. Yet a thousand orgasms couldn't match it. No other kill is ever quite like it. Not that I didn't try." She could tell this frightened Willow. But didn't terrify her.

"What changed?"

"The Apostate."

"Your sire." Tara nodded. "Is that why he took your eye?"

"He wanted to get my attention. It worked. Honestly, I'm not sure anything less...drastic...would have."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

After another eternal ten minutes, Tara stopped. With a glance, she indicated they'd reached where she was headed. Two stories of moldy bricks and boarded-up windows. She went inside. Barely hesitating, Willow followed. Tara entered through a side door, padlocked several times on the outside as well--it turned out--as inside. One stark lightbulb was the only source of illumination, showing dust and clutter. A surprising amount of time and effort had gone into creating this effect. Four carefully placed mannequins, for example, helped create an atmosphere both unsettling and profoundly abandoned.

Tara made her way to a large wardrobe. Pulling aside the door, she then pushed the mildewed clothes hanging there. One carefully placed push of her hand then revealed the ladder.

"You coming?"

Willow's eyes were huge. Not as huge as they could've been, but...big. Still, she gamely followed Tara. The ladder's rungs were steel, and built into the reinforced concrete. Down. Further down. Nearly fifty feet down.

At the bottom, Willow turned around and stared. Tara couldn't help but giggle at the shock on her face.

"Wow."

"Used to be a bomb shelter," noted Tara as she switched on the extra lights. An affectation it might be, but she was almost childishly pleased at the effect of nearly a hundred candelabra light bulbs flickering from all over the room. Curtains hung everywhere, some of them draped over various pieces of furniture. Well, the couches hadn't matched. Besides, they were ugly. The bookcases and desk had been nice though. Now they overflowed with books.

Books Willow headed for like a vampire to blood. Her excitement grew as she scanned some of the titles.

"You...how...Tara, this library...Giles would fall in love with you!" The second she said it Willow did a take.

Tara decided to be nonchalant. Or to try, anyway. "My sire's legacy. There was no one else with any claim to his things, so..." She shrugged. "You are welcome here."

"Thank you."

"Not just to study."

Another long silence. Finally, "What about Harmony?"

"Gone. Joined a self-help group for vampires, if you can believe it. She was a mistake, anyway."

"Why did you make her?"

"Loneliness. She was pretty. Different. I got careless, took too much. So instead of letting her die, I brought her across. Do you mind if we don't talk about her?"

"Fine."

How long the silence then lasted Tara couldn't possibly have guessed. It felt like a million years. And for the first eon or so, neither she nor Willow did more than look at each other. Then, Willow took a tiny step. Forward. Not back. Closer to Tara. Then another.

Tara seized her.

Lightning fast, her hands reached out to each side of Willow's face, bringing their mouths together in one hungry movement. Somebody whimpered. Who? Did it matter? Or as long as they were at long, long last where they should be--touching, feeling each other, holding each other tight, tighter, tighter still--while this was true, what else could concern them? Details--never mind details.

When the kiss ended, it didn't, really. At least, it didn't feel so much an end as a pause. Both of them gasped. Willow had to. Tara simply did so from habit, perhaps. Now they looked at each other. Just looked.

"You're so warm," whispered Tara. "Like blood. Like life." Her voice sank, nearly inaudible. "Am I cold?"

"Cool," hushed Willow back to her. "Like a glass of water in the desert."

Their next kiss lasted even longer. As did the next. Later, neither could recall precisely when they fell to the pillowed floor--though both could not forget the feeling as limbs entwined and hands, then fingers, began to explore. It was sweet beyond words, and bittersweet because each remembered doing the same. Then, one of them had been different. Yet in some ways identical. So this dance of flesh and nerve tip was all mixed up with regrets and confusions, coupled and coupling with joyous abandon. It took a lot of courage to shed their pasts along with their clothes. Yet they did it.

And they met together in pleasure more than merely physical, blinding though that part of it was.

Mine, they thought as one.

Yours.

Never again alone. Forever bound. Heat and cold. Living and undead. Mortal and hellspawn. Yet--alike in their hearts, beating or not.

Hours later, when Willow offered her throat, she felt no fear. And Tara felt no shame. She bit deeply. She drank. Her lover moaned, but did not die. Nor would she, vowed the young vampire with all the raw might of her will.

Nor would she.

TO BE CONTINUED.