TITLE: Never The Twain? (Part 28/31)
AUTHOR: Zahir
FEEDBACK: Well, yeah!
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
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: Up through and including "Weight of the World" as well as some stuff from "Angel."
DISCLAIMERS: 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. Honest.

* * *

Wesley cleared his throat, lifting one eyebrow and staring at those who'd gathered in the back of the Magic Shoppe. Privately, Tara thought his attempts to be serious either fell flat or succeeded magnificently. Usually, this depended on how much he was trying. Now, he wasn't trying but simply was.

And he came across as very serious indeed. With plenty of reason.

"I wont pretend we're not asking a great deal of you," he said. His eyes met those of the newest member of the group. Met and held them. His voice was low but piercing. "More, in fact, than is remotely fair. But the only other choice we have is to risk suffering and death for the entire world." Now he sat down across from her. "We don't even dare give you the time you need to adjust. Quite simply, too much is at stake. And we do need you. In just a few hours, we'll be going into combat against a being of terrifying power who intends to rip this entire reality into tatters. She'll do it simply because we're in the way." He paused.

Sensing all the eyes upon her, Amy managed not to wilt. Just pulled the coat Tara had lent her a bit tighter. Probably the strangers--like Gunn and Wesley--were easier to bear. Willow and Oz and Xander, whom she'd known before and now looked so much older probably were disorienting on a visceral level.

A part of Tara felt sorry for her. This had been her own idea, after all. It had been Tara who'd noticed the strange aura of the cheerleading trophy, then realized its significance after hearing the story from Willow about Amy's mother, a powerful and evil witch. Amy showed the same kind of power, but with an awkwardness that led to unforseen consequences. Like changing herself into a rat. No doubt that had seemed a good idea at the time. From what Tara understood, it probably was. Amy had been tied to a wooden stake and surrounded by kindling wood. Becoming a rat had allowed her to escape. Changing back had proven far, far more difficult. Until Tara realized the sacrifice of her mother would power magic enough to transform Amy back. Dark magic. Extremely dark. Mrs. Madison had been a captive and unwilling sacrifice. Forces willing accept such were extremely dangerous. Tara wouldn't even consider allowing Willow actually kill Amy's mother. Bad enough for her to work the ritual.

Yet even the result--a fourth witch of considerable power to help take on Glory--wasn't going to be enough to save Willow. Neither was the addition of Faith, weakened as she was from her wounds.

Willow was going to die.

And although Tara wracked her brain, she couldn't imagine a way to keep that from happening. She'd keep trying, adding to their forces every way she could. But in her unbeating heart, she didn't believe there was any real hope.

"Do you understand?" Wesley asked Amy.

She nodded.

"Will you help us?

"Yes." She looked very grave, very serious and very unhappy. Tara could relate.

* * *

"Tara?"

"Yes?"

"What's wrong? I mean--I know what's wrong because we all know what's wrong and we've been going on about it, but...there's something more wrong, isn't there?"

In a part of Willow's mind, she wondered at how her lover sighed at this. Not the reason for the sigh. Any or all of a dozen reasons for sighing came to mind, quite good ones when you come to think of it. If the end of the world wasn't a reason for sighing then what was? But a little voice in Willow reminded her that Tara didn't need to breathe. So why sigh? Habit, most likely.

"You're going to tell me, you know." Willow didn't raise her voice, so the others on the other side of the store couldn't hear her. But the timbre of her voice did. "So make with the telling, if you know what's good for you."

Tara paused before saying anything. In fact, Willow was preparing another needling plea when Tara fixed her one eye onto Willow's face and spoke. "I saw a vampire."

"Oh?" She tried to encourage details.

"A vampire I made."

"Oh." Awkwardness central now. Then, a flash of jealousy. "Was it Harmony?"

"No!" Her reaction was just a tiny bit panicked at that. A good thing? "I haven't seen Harmony for months."

"Oh." Vast with the vocabulary today. Wait a minute..."I didn't know you'd made any other vampires."

Tara nodded, her features grave. "One other. Her name was...is...maybe was...Michelle." Silence again. "After The Apostate killed himself, I didn't know what to do. He was--well, father and teacher and maybe even god for as long as I had existed. Plus there was you--someone who fascinated and drew me in, but human. I'm a vampire. Humans are my prey. What was worse, you were the friend of not one but two Slayers!"

"And you went to Los Angeles." Willow hadn't heard this before. Tara's voice was a subtle instrument, and its music was one she'd learned to read very well. She loved Tara's voice. But now that voice carried tones of past confusion and anguish, as well as current guilt. It was compelling but also uncomfortable. Tara's pain was her own now.

"Eventually. But the night before I left..." She hesitated. "Her name was Michelle." Silence followed. "A pretty girl at a bus stop, her nose buried in a book. I'd noticed her looking at me, sneaking an occasional peak. So I sat down, introduced myself, got her to relax. Then, I fed on her."

"You killed her." Willow had meant that to come out as a question.

"The Apostate didn't approve of killing prey. Foolish waste he called it. And too conspicuous. I'd kinda gotten used to being hungry. But after the blood touched my tongue, the thought came to me. My Sire is gone. I don't have to obey him. He won't, he can't punish me. So I drank and drank and drank. Why not kill her, I thought? Why not?" She gave a little shrug. "Should have been a sign. I couldn't just kill her. At the very end, I cut my wrist and put it against her mouth. She drank. Not much, though. Enough."

Silence again. Willow found this story unsettling, but she was sure it wasn't over. Uncertain how to respond or what to say, she waited for Tara to continue in her own way.

"After," Tara finally said, "I put her body underground. Then I left Sunnydale. Forever, I thought. Earlier today, I went back to my old lair where the trophy was, in the ruins of Sunnydale High. And Michelle was there."

"How is she?" Willow was sure the smile she tried right then was all wrong for all sorts of reasons but she couldn't help herself.

"Terrible." Her lover suddenly looked quietly afraid. "She didn't recognize me. I'm not sure how much language she still has, or even if she remembers her old name. That sometimes happens when a vampire is made--they rise weak, even feeble-minded. No one knows why. Michelle is one of those. She's been so reduced all the blood she can get is that of vermin. Rat carcasses were all over the floor. She wore rags. And she'd lost so much weight! Once she was pretty girl. Now she's a scarecrow." Distressed, Tara shook her head.

"You couldn't have known..."

"Look what I'm doing to you!" Tara interrupted. The almost non sequitur brought Willow up cold. "You used to be a Wiccan. Now, you're practicing black magic. Human sacrifice, even!"

Suddenly what was haunting Tara seemed clear. "No. Its not you."

"Who else?"

"Not even a little bit" Willow nearly hissed! "Don't you dare go on like that. Tara, look at me. Look at me!" Keeping her voice still down, Willow pulled Tara's chin to face her own. "Before you, I don't think I even knew what it was like to be alive. Whatever else you are--a vampire, a demon, a dark witch, whatever--you're my girl. Mine. All mine." Without any conscious thought, they embraced. Her words whispered in Tara's ear. "The only thing that really, really scares me," she said, "is that maybe we'll save the world, but not you. Because you're my world now. Forever and ever."

In Tara's limbs she could feel reluctance, drawing away, even fear. But hunger as well. Equal to her own? Maybe. Willow didn't let go, refused to. Weird though it was, unlikely and maybe against somebody's rules somewhere, she'd made her choice. Or her heart had.

Cool hands pressed against Willow's back, pulling her closer. "Mine," she heard at last.

"Yours," Willow agreed.

Forever.

* * *

Tara didn't want that embrace to end. She willed herself not to consider how brief this moment had to be. Or what would soon follow. Better, far better, to dwell in this warm and loving NOW. Pretend it was forever. That it could be.

"Hello!" A familiar voice piped into their moment. Without willing it, Tara's face shifted for a moment as she stared at the one who dared interrupt. And shifted back as she saw who (or what) stood at the front door of the shop.

April smiled, as she nearly always smiled. She smiled because her creator had programmed her that way and she obeyed her programming with the precision of a computer. Because that's what she was. Or at least, that's what she had instead of a mind. "Hello Anya," she chirped to the woman at a nonplussed Xander's side. "Hello, Xander. I am happy you are better now."

'Uh...thanks." Xander blinked. Well, he hadn't had a chance to get used to her. And a robot that looked like Britney Spears did take some getting used to, after all.

"Hello to you as well, Tara and Willow." Again, the precise and perfect smile. Too perfect to be real. "I do not know these others. Will you please introduce me to them?"

"Okay," Willow said. She gave a last hug to Tara then stepped away. A part of Tara wanted to scream Come Back.

"April," her love began, "this is Faith, who's a Slayer."

"Like Buffy?"

"Right."

"Hello Faith the Slayer like Buffy." Faith looked nonplussed at the blonde girl reaching out to shake her hand.

"Yeah, hi. Nice to meet ya."

"April" explained Willow, "is a robot. She was built by a guy named Warren. One of Glory's victims. But he's been healed and Tara asked him if April could help us. She's way strong."

"A robot, huh?" The dark-haired Slayer looked April up and down. "Cool."

"Thank you, Faith."

"Over here are Gunn and Wesley. They're friends of Faith's."

Gunn was staring. "Hey" he finally said.

"Hey as well," the robot cheerily answered.

"Pleased to meet you, I suppose," mumbled Wesley.

"And I am pleased to make your acquaintance!"

"She always like that?" asked Gunn not quite under his breath.

"Mostly," murmured Willow. Then, she spoke to April again. "Finally, these are Oz and Amy."

"Hi," said a slightly dazed Amy, eyes huge.

"Hi," said a stoic Oz, not blinking. But then, did he ever?

"Hi yourselves, Oz and Amy. Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?" The two of them looked at each other. Interesting. Something finally made Oz react--and it wasn't something earth-shattering.

"N-n-no?" Amy answered. This clearly wasn't doing anything for her nerves. Did she know Oz was a werewolf? If not, it was probably best not to tell her. Enough shocks already--finding herself human again after almost three years, learning her mother had been killed to change her back and that a vampire did it to try defeat a god and so save the world. Enough on her plate, for sure.

"I am sorry," went on the robot, oblivious. "Hopefully each of you will get a boyfriend or girlfriend very soon."

Nobody said anything in response. Oz did walk away, though, quietly taking a seat in the corner.

"Thanks for coming, April," said Tara at last. "Everything will be decided by tonight, so if all goes well you can go back to Warren before long." She didn't really believe things could go right, but it had to be said. What was the alternative? Give up and weep in despair.

"Warren said you should use me as long as you need to," the robot replied. "He said to tell you that."

"Okay," answered Willow. "Well...thanks."

* * *

By sunset, everybody had gotten rest, or at least as much rest as possible under the circumstances. To Willow, that meant curling up with Tara and trying to sleep. She didn't sleep. Instead she lay next to her lover, head against Tara's breast and listening to the echo of her own heartbeat. It was strange. Tara had no breath to feel, no heart to hear beating. She was simply there--yet to Willow's senses her presence was vivid in the extreme. How much of this was psychological? And how much mystic, the sense of a witch at the presence of a supernatural creature bound to her by love?

Willow had tried to make Tara feed from her, but the vampire had refused. You need every bit of your strength, she'd said. She had sounded very rational, very clear. But to Willow an undercurrent of fear was obvious.

She'd said nothing. What was there to say?

Instead, they simply wrapped each other in each other.

A knock on the door startled Willow out of her fake sleep. She blinked and muttered "Hello?" The door opened and Wesley's head peaked in.

"Sorry to interrupt..." he whispered, "...but it is getting to be time."

Willow nodded. The door shut. She then shared a look with Tara. An air of melancholy still hung around her. Memories of Michelle, the girl she'd turned into a pathetic wretch of a vampire? Maybe. Or tightly controlled fear?

"Time to save the world!" She tried to make it sound flippant. Tara's little smile gave her hope that maybe she succeeded. As one, they rose from the collection of pillows and blankets on which they'd been resting. In the hallway, they found the others emerging from the various bedrooms here in the Summers home. Gunn, surprisingly, was rubbing his eyes. Had he actually managed to sleep? Impressive.

April was waiting at the foot of the stairs, smiling as ever. She looked up at Willow.

"I can report no sightings of your friend Buffy, Willow." Her vocal tones did register regret, even if too precisely.

"Thanks, anyway, April." The windows showed darkness. Night. The clock on the wall read nearly eight o'clock. Another hour to go. She shot a look at Xander, already downstairs and seated on a sofa, his arm around Anya. "Anything new?"

"Nope." Xander seemed to focus in on himself for a moment. Then he was back. "Nope," he repeated, "the time is coming up but it still isn't here. And I still get the same sense of where the ritual is going to take place."

Amy was sitting down at the table where several old books lay open. She'd changed into some simple, comfortable clothes. Willow recognized them as Buffy's. Now she stared at the glowing orb in the table's center, surrounded by four objects. A dagger. A cup. A wand. And a silver dollar coin. Beside each object was a tarot card--the Queens of Swords, Chalices, Wands and Pentacles.

With barely a word, Amy picked up the cup. Anya walked over and took the coin. Tara and Willow approached, taking the dagger and wand in hand. All four looked at each other. Willow vaguely sensed a new connection, some kind of magical bond uniting them in some way with the Orb of Dagon, a talisman specifically designed to ward against Glory. Silently, she thanked whatever gods or goddesses that might be Tara wore the Ring of Amara. Whatever else might happen, at least Tara should survive.

"Primus" said Willow. Something in the air clicked.

"Secundus" answered Anya, beginning the cone of power.

"Tertius" whispered Tara. A dark undercurrent added to the not-quite-sound Willow sensed.

"Quartus," said Amy, finally. The volume (if that was what it was) increased, and its rhythms reached a kind of sustained crescendo. It peaked, then sank into Willow's bones. She shuddered at the impact, which was both hot as well as cold. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noted similar reactions in Amy, Anya and of course Tara.

"Are you ready?" Wesley had come up to them. She hadn't noticed. He had a small axe in hand. Behind him, Gunn and Oz and Faith (still limping slightly) were also armed. Willow nodded.

Everyone looked towards Xander, who gestured in a specific direction. "That way." The whole group moved as one towards the front door.

Barely seconds after starting to cross the Summers' lawn, all of them stopped short as bright lights suddenly turned the night into something like day. Two large vehicles were pulling up at high speed, their headlights glaring. Engines roared, then brakes gave little screams. Two wide, low-slung vehicles had pulled up and stopped in front of the house. Several figures jumped out, all of them clearly armed and wearing camouflage fatigues. In the shadows no faces or insignia were obvious.

Not to Willow. She looked to Tara, whose expression was thoughtful.

"Hey! Hey! What's goin on here?" Gunn was already jittery. Being surrounded by soldiers for no apparent reason did nothing to help.

"Stay calm, Gunn," Willow called out. "Let's see what they want."

A voice called out from the shadows. "Same thing you do Will!"

Every single person turned their head at the sound of that voice. She walked into the light of the vehicles, her face calm but full of resolve. Willow could feel her jaw want to drop. It didn't, not yet, but wanted to for sure.

"I'm back," said Buffy. "And I brought some more guest for the party."

TO BE CONTINUED