TITLE: Never The Twain? (Part 19/31)
AUTHOR: Zahir
FEEDBACK: Please. Pretty please. With sugar on top. And a cherry.
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 "Forever" 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. My hope is that they won't sue me. Besides, I don't own much.

* * *

Xander wailed. There was no other word for it. He made a sound halfway between a sob and a scream--or maybe simply a mix of the two. Anya's heart bled hearing him. She might have cried, if she weren't so busy struggling with her insane boyfriend as he thrashed. His arms flailed in nearly every direction they could. Meanwhile his eyes bulged, frightened by a vision only he could see.

And he was stronger than Anya. Only the fact he was uncoordinated gave her a chance of keeping Xander from harming himself.

"Monkeys! Flying monkees everywhere!"

"No, Xander--no damn flying monkees!"

His only answer was another wail.

That the front door was opening, then shut, barely registered with Anya as she struggled with Xander. Until Tara reached over and held Xander down. Her vampiric strength (plus his own tiredness from exerting against Anya) did the trick. Anya wasted no time. She worked the tranquilizer in between his teeth, then put the cup of orange juice to his lips.

"Shhhh...drink...that's right....drink..."

Maybe because he was now tired, Xander didn't put up any struggle. He just swallowed, his eyes never once leaving Anya's. For a moment or two, Tara thought he resembled a beaten puppy. Quietly, he just lay there, doing nothing but stare at Anya. Once she noticed, Anya herself could hardly take her eyes off his. Tara felt something of a voyeur, seeing that look.

At last, Xander visibly relaxed. Horribly, it looked halfway between death and a puppet having its string cut. Both eyes unfocussed, every limb went slack. Tara let Xander go. After a moment, she quietly grabbed a tissue from the box on the side of the bed, using it to wipe away a touch of drool.

When she looked back at Anya, she saw a lone tear dropping from one eye. Tara wiped that away as well.

* * *

Willow felt as if everyone in the room had x-ray eyes directed right at her. The fact everyone--even fourteen-year-old Dawn--had a weapon in hand only made it worse. So she did her best to appear cheerful. On their side.

"Okay, that wasn't too hard," she offered.

Buffy nodded. She'd done the brunt of the fighting, although nearly everybody had gotten splattered in blood. Well, the Ghora had been protecting its eggs. Willow privately thought a smaller party would have had better luck. An assault by no less than five heavily armed people on the demon's nest was bound to set off every defensive instinct the creature had.

No wonder almost all the eggs had gotten crushed in the process.

Almost all. Willow had the last intact Ghora egg in her hands. She wanted to drop it, but by now she was fully convinced all her friends were insane. Their reaction to such was not something she chose to risk right now.

"I was just a tad worried," offered up Giles, "when Riley cut off the first head. It was just barely possible another would have grown in its place. Perhaps more than one."

"You didn't mention that was a possibility," noted Riley.

"Well. Didn't seem at all likely."

Dawn by now had rushed upstairs. To her room, presumably.

"Any idea where I should put this?" asked Willow, holding out the Ghora egg. It was roughly the size of a basketball. Giles immediately took it off her hands.

"Must be especially careful," he muttered, "no telling when another Ghora might show up."

"Yeah, no telling." Willow tried to sound enthusiastic.

"Hey, Wil!" Buffy looked at her best friend with a strange intensity.

"Um. What?"

"Thanks. For doing this. It means a whole lot to Dawn and me."

"Okay, but you see, I haven't actually done anything yet..."

"Just think of the possibilities this offers up." Buffy spoke as if Willow hadn't said anything.

"Possibilities?"

"Aren't they obvious?" asked Riley. He looked jazzed. Willow shrugged in puzzlement.

"Kendra," said Buffy, as if that explained everything. Which, after a moment, Willow realized it did. To her horror.

"You want me to resurrect Kendra?" Breathe, Willow said to herself quietly. Breathe!

"Not just her!" Oh no. "In theory we can bring back all the Slayers. And why should we stop with them? Think, Willow, about all the people we've lost. Jesse. Larry. Forrest."

"Jenny," said Giles, voice low.

Buffy looked at Giles fondly. She reached out and touched his hand. "Yeah," she said quietly, "Jenny." Then Buffy looked right at Willow. "You do see now, don't you? If this works, how much good we can do?" She looked so earnest.

Willow felt so terrified. And she didn't dare show it. "That kinda depends, doesn't it?" she offered weakly.

The Slayer blinked. "On what?"

"On whether it works, for one thing! Then, you know, to do this again we need to go get some more of those Ghora eggs! Major operation there, I think! I mean, even finding those things is gonna take plenty of time and effort! Yessir--lots of effort!" She shut up as Buffy stood and got practically nose-to-nose.

"I believe in you, Wil."

"Th--th-thanks."

Dawn came bounding down the stairs. She had large cooking bowl in her arms, full of stuff. Under one arm was a picture of her mother. "We have ingredients!" Willow couldn't decide if her grin was madness or typical puberty-driven energy. Or both.

"Goody," Willow said.

* * *

"We have to do something," Anya said wearily.

"I know. But what? Joculatrix is a Moon Demon. If we kill her, then her heart can cure Xander's insanity as well as Warren's. Maybe some other people's too. Guess that depends on how much of the heart needs to be eaten." Tara looked at her hostess inquiringly. Anya thought about it for a moment.

"One good bite-sized chunk should do it," she offered.

"Then we have to figure out if she's told Glory about Dawn being the Key. She certainly was talking to Ben--and we know he's somehow involved with Glory. I wish I knew how."

"Me too," agreed Anya. "But if we don't kill Joculatrix, doesn't that increase the odds she'll tell Glory?"

Tara thought about that one for a few moments. "Yes," she finally said. "Where's April? She's the only one who can get close to a Moon Demon without going crazy."

"I don't know. She was supposed to be here to help me with Xander." There wasn't nearly as much spit and fire in Anya's voice as Tara was used to hearing. Even her complaints lacked the energy they usually had. More evidence, if such were needed, of how draining her taking care of Xander had been. Proof, too, of how much he meant to her. "Souped up Barbie Doll," she grumbled, "what's the use of having superstrength if you don't use it to help out?"

April walked in the front door. Well, thought Tara, maybe the gods have a sense of humor after all. Or timing, anyway. The pretty robot had a neat package in hand, roughly the size of a shoe box. She smiled--but then, April almost always smiled.

"Shoes?" growled Anya. "You were shopping?" Exhausted as she was, Anya clearly was building up towards an explosion.

"Hello, Anya," replied April. "No, I have not been shopping. If I had, I would have asked if you wanted me to get you something." Of course, she spoke with such a precise sincerity it seemed fake. In fact, her sincerity was utterly real. April herself was fake. Or, at least, artificial. Tara wasn't sure what the precise difference was.

"Then..." sputtered Anya, "what have you got there?" She pointed at the box.

"Jocelyn's heart," the robot said cheerfully.

"Say what?" asked Tara.

April repeated herself. "Jocelyn's heart." She even handed it to Tara--who could indeed detect the distinct coppery scent of blood. Carefully, she put the box on the kitchen counter and opened it. Inside was...something...wrapped in butcher's paper.

"Looks about the right size," offered Anya, pearing over Tara's shoulder.

"But--what about the rest of her?" They looked at April.

"I put her body in a cave near the campus. There were plenty of rats." Her smile was unaffected by this, or its implications. Tara was impressed. She shouldn't have been, she realized. Computers (and that's what April was, really) were nothing if not practical. Or so she'd been given to understand.

"Just to make sure I understand," began Anya, "you did kill Joculatrix--or, Jocelyn. Right?"

"Yes, I killed her."

"How?"

"By breaking the bones of her upper vertebrae, severing her spine from the cerebellum." Again, the cheerful smile. Tara felt a little one of her own growing. "Then I used a knife to remove her heart, hid her body, and brought the heart back here so you can use it to help Warren."

"Wow." Anya shared a look with Tara. "And she didn't even muss up her nails." Tara looked. Anya was right.

"A good girlfriend is a clean girlfriend," April recited.

"For the record," said Tara, "I think you make a terrific girlfriend."

"Thank you. But I am Warren's girlfriend, Tara. So I cannot be yours."

With a shrug, Tara smiled. "I prefer redheads, anyway." She looked back at Anya. This was her apartment, after all. "So..."

Anya was already checking a small bookshelf next to the refrigerator. "I think there's a recipe for stew in one of these..."

TO BE CONTINUED