TITLE: Never The Twain? (Part 29/31)
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 "The Gift" 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.
NOTES: This has taken sooooooo much longer than planned. Many thanks for your patience. Two more chapters to go after this, with a finale that mehopes you'll like. Then, I start work on my next fic.

* * *

Tara parted from Willow only very reluctantly. She didn't want to, most especially when hours might be all they had left. It took Willow's permission to make her go. And a few words of persuasion. So, almost by an effort of will (as well as Will), Tara went with Buffy. Not far, only three or four yards. Just into the shadows away from the gathering Scoobies and soldiers.

Buffy looked anything but happy. More than the loss of her mother, the threat to Dawn, or Riley's death, something seemed eating at her. She turned to Tara focused, however, and calm.

"We need to talk."

"Go ahead."

For a long hard moment Slayer stared at vampire. Tara's mind for a moment went to a memory, a time in Los Angeles. She'd been looking for contacts, trying to build a life (or undeath) for herself after the Apostate's self-destruction. Not daring to hope for a future with Willow--not even enough to admit what she felt--Tara had visited the various dens and hang-outs demons called their own. Poker was a popular past time in such places. More than once she'd seen really excellent players vie with each other. And those rooms, visited months ago but not forgotten, recalled this spot and this time. Only so much more was at stake.

"You and Will--no secret I'm not thrilled about that." No venom in those words. "If it were up to me, you'd've been turned into dust bunnies a long time ago. Except you've been...well, more than useful."

"Thanks."

"What were you planning?"

"Xander knows where to find Glory. Just before her ritual has to begin, we're going to hit Glory with as much magic as we can. The four of us."

"Uh-huh." Buffy nodded, considering this. "How much magic is that?"

Tara shrugged. "Minus any and all caution, enough to fry any demon I've ever heard of. Even the strongest would need time to heal."

"Glory's not a demon."

"No. She's a god."

"What do you figure that'll do to her?"

Again, Tara shrugged. "Hurt her, we hope. Distract her, at the very least. What with the sphere of Dagon and all, she should be weakened. Some. That's when Faith and April and me--and now, presumably, you--start in on her. All we need to do is keep her busy until the time for the ritual passes."

Buffy's gaze somehow got even keener. "What if the ritual starts?"

Perilous waters, these. Tara felt acutely glad to be wearing the Ring of Amara as the truth hovered in the air between herself and the Slayer, the natural foe of her kind. Not the right time to suggest killing the Slayer's sister, not even to save the world. Not even if it was true. Especially. Was she likely to believe Tara? Or did Buffy know how much Tara feared the success of Glory's ritual? Death, and not just for her, was the threat. Willow. Did Buffy imagine Tara would allow any threat of that?

"That ritual can't start. If it does, we've lost." Not an entirely honest answer. But close enough? Buffy didn't give away any clues.

"But if it does?"

"If that happens," Tara replied after a few moments, "I grab Willow and get her as far away from ground zero as I can."

"What good'll that do if reality goes bye-bye?"

"She gets as much time as I can buy her." Iron crept into Tara's voice. This was supposed to be a lie, but much of it wasn't. "And she spends that time with me." Unless I stop that damn ritual. Whatever it takes. "Anything else?"

"Yeah. One. Go near Dawn, and I kill you."

Tara was left staring as Buffy headed away, checking on Faith and Giles who were talking. What to do? Brutal truth wasn't something Buffy liked to hear. Not that Tara blamed her. She understood only too well how the Slayer felt. Unconsciously, Tara's finger grazed the Ring of Amara as she headed over to Willow. She would certainly need it tonight. What she hoped, desperately, was that it wouldn't be the Slayer she'd need it for. But if the choice came to between Dawn and Willow...

She kissed Willow gently as they touched hands. Her love's smile, worried as it was, still pierced Tara. It always had. We will have a future, she vowed silently. I will make it happen! No matter the cost.

May you forgive me.

* * *

An hour later, Willow found herself, along with others, outside a construction area. Behind the fence, dozens of people were working. Despite the fact it was night. Rising above the area stood a simple tower, little more than a metal staircase reaching maybe a hundred feet into the air. A few glimpses into the lit area from the street confirmed what everyone already suspected--the presence of robed figures they'd seen before. Short beings with elongated features, pointed ears and very, very, very bad skin.

Glory's minions.

"Spedoinkle!" gulped Xander, looking up at the weird staircase/tower before them. The dozen or so Initiative soldiers alongside gave him a look.

"You can say that again," muttered Tara under her breath. Then she turned to Willow. As ever (and when did I first notice it, wondered Willow to herself) Tara's harsh features softened. "Shall we begin?"

With a gulp, Willow nodded. She looked again at the tower, spotting two robed figures at the very top. And a third figure, smaller. They were tying this other figure atop the tower. Dawn. "Let's hurry," she said.

Amy took position, along with Anya and Tara. Willow finished the circle. She concentrated, and began the chant. Each of the other witches joined in, making the ritual gestures, intoning the words she and Tara had found in her books. Dangerous words. Extremely dangerous. Potency crawled along her nerve-ends with each syllable, like a drug. Her eyes even began to tingle, slightly. And itch. They were four. Four elements. Four cardinal points. Four seasons. Now, four witches--infused with power most fundamental and eldritch.

She never even noticed when they began to levitate. Only inches. Yet it was a heady feeling. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted how the Initiative soldiers grew more alert, confused. Not sure whom to fight? It hardly mattered. Floating, Willow continued the chant. With her words, she and the others called upon the oldest, most alien of powers to lend a tiny fraction of their might. Hopefully, they would barely notice--or, if they did notice, they'd not care. The strangest sensation shot through Willow, both pleasant and painful. As if--how to put it? As if her bones had begun to heat?

Ready. They were ready. All four of them knew it at the same moment, in a communion with the magic. Willow felt her fellows with senses she didn't know existed, hadn't guessed could be. Amy's fear, frustration, anger. Anya's dedication and surprising clarity. Plus, of course, Tara--the hunger of her, the calm wisdom and cool fire that shielded...what? More fire. Passion. Vast, unquenchable, deep. Yet filled.

With her.

With love of her.

It very nearly staggered her. But instead, Willow felt as if a hand had reached out and pulled her along to safety in the midst of a strong, even terrifying current. Tara. Aided by Amy and Anya. Not on any conscious level, the four of them turned in mid-air. They headed towards the construction site.

A simple wall of rough-cut timbers and chain link was in their way. In communion, they willed it away. Wood flew. Metal links bent and twisted away. They sang the air to sustain them, floating closer and closer to their prey. A hellgod named Glorificus. Her minions were fleeing, running from the circle of four who approached. Willow herself was the point of a lopsided arrow shape. She had not planned it. None of them had. This was the natural flow of the power. Hers was the natural conduit to unleash it. Ozone crackled in the air. The four spoke as one.

"Uphrael, and Balthazar" they intoned "Hold our victim as in tar!" In her robes, the golden-haired Glory turned to them, sneering. As if a puppy had dared challenge a tigress. But then, the air about her buckled slightly. Her movements slowed to a fraction of what they had been. More than one minion's eyes grew large at this. One, a tall one with a beard whose robe was more elaborate than the others, began flipping through some tome.

Four sets of eyes locked on him. Their fingers pointed. Lightning shot out. He screamed as he burned to death, eyes boiling out of his head and hair reduced to ash.

Now four sets of eyes locked on the hellgod. Glory was moving at nearly normal speed by now. Another second, perhaps two, and she'd be free to move far faster than they could ever respond. Waiting was not an option.

Four mouths opened. But not to speak. Instead, green fire shot from their throats. Willow felt the pain of those flames--which burned, strangely, with cold rather than heat. Part of her knew why this was so. Another part fled from that knowledge and what it implied. The larger part of her. The wiser part. But the flames struck Glory. They enveloped her.

She screamed. A loud, unearthly sound. High-pitched and filled with as much surprise as pain. She was a god. Had she ever even felt pain, real pain, before now in all the countless ages of her life?

None of the four released her. All focused on emitting as much of the flames as they could manage. No longer an arrow, they floated into the shape of a circle, orbiting the hellgod while spewing as much flame as each could. Yet, although Glory flinched and screamed, she did not truly burn. Her screams grew less and less, just as the flames themselves began to dwindle. The four, combined in this way, were mighty. Mightier than any ever had been before. But they were not gods.

Anya was the first to falter. She coughed. Then fell. The circle was suddenly reduced by a full quarter. Distantly, Willow noted how Xander ran to his girlfriend and carried her away. More disturbingly, Glory was able now to face her tormentors. Not without flinching, but she could clearly now do more than react. Nor did she wait. One blow hit Amy like a thunderclap. She didn't seem hurt by the blow. But she did falter, and after another moment flew back. Glory nearly pursued the staggering witch. Willow concentrated, redoubling her own efforts. The green flames reared up again for a moment, making the hellgod visibly flinch and turn in her direction.

Now all of her attention was on Willow.

She growled, approaching with effort. The sounds of combat (the others must be attacking the Minions, Willow realized distantly) in no way eclipsed the rage in Glory's eyes as she braced against the fires. And. Walked. Forward.

Towards Willow.

And no matter what Willow did, no matter how she concentrated on focusing the powers flowing through her, still the flames were shrinking. They would have long ago killed anything made of simple flesh. Vampires and most demons would have been dust by now. Humans, naturally. But Glory, although clearly in pain, lacked even any burns. Soon, she'd be in arm's reach. And nothing Willow could do would stop her, could stop her. The flames reduced still more--and Glory grinned, exactly like a bully. Nothing to stop her now. She was reaching out to Willow...

Only to be thrown forward! Behind her, Tara dropped the two pieces of a now-fractured concrete cinderblock. Her demon face was showing, fangs bared and one eye a feral yellow. A growl escaped her lips.

For me, Willow thought to herself.

Exhausted. Willow had exhausted herself in weakening Glory. She fell (not far--it just seemed like miles instead of inches) to the ground and collapsed hard enough for bruises. With luck, she'd live long enough to develop them. Blurrily, she made out Glory. Oh good. She hasn't killed me yet. That's good news. Her vision cleared. Some. Actually, Glory looked too busy to even think about Willow.

Blows were raining down on the hellgod from all sides. Faith, arm still in a sling, was delivering powerful kicks. April the robot had what looked like a small steel girder in her hands, swinging it like a club right into Glory's head. Those blows weren't killing Glory. In fact, they didn't even seem to be breaking skin. Willow tried not to feel terrified awe at that fact, looking for comfort that she evidently still felt each blow. Buffy, meanwhile, was getting in her own strikes. As was Tara.

Tara's fighting looked reckless. Willow had seen enough combat to recognize she was all attack and no defense. Glory backhanded her, sending Tara into a pile of bricks that then collapsed. Tara never even paused, but clawed her way out and attacked again. The Ring of Amara has got its perks. But Willow knew as well Tara might have fought much the same without any invincibility talisman. Just as Willow hadn't held back. The world was at stake.

And the world included Tara.

Then, the worst thing possible happened. Glory had managed to push everyone but Tara away. Minions were (unsuccessfully) trying to hold back April. Faith had fallen, and Buffy was helping her fellow slayer up. So the vampire and the hellgod were trading blows. Willow tried to focus, tried to summon something to help Tara. Nothing. Even her bones felt heavier than rock. Just then, however, Glory got a firm hold on Tara's wrist. The Ring rendered her invulnerable, not unmovable. Glory stared at the hand attached to that wrist, very nearly ignoring the blows Tara pounded against her head and shoulders. In fact, Glory suddenly smiled.

"A magical thingamajig! No wonder you're tougher than you were. Ha! Let's take of that!" Glory easily pulled the ring off Tara's finger, crushing it just as easily in her hand, a bright spark shining between her fingers as it was reduced to dust. Then, she laughed. Cruelly.

But then, she had the vibe that said she did pretty much everything cruelly. Just like she now tossed Tara cruelly over her head and into the wall of the nearby building. Hard. Hard enough to leave a dent. Even from a distance of twenty or more yards, Willow could hear her love cry out. It hurt.

Glory didn't even glance at the vampire she'd just slammed into a wall. Rather, she swung her first straight into an approaching April. The robot's head flew off amid sparks. Snarling, Glory turned to the next person daring to attack her.

Faith.

Arm still in a sling, with hollow eyes and gritted teeth. Faith looked the weakest of them. But in her hand was a weapon--one before which even the hellgod hesitated. Tied to a rope, the Dagon's Sphere--specifically created as a ward against Glory herself--glowed. And in the Faith's skilled hands, it swung towards Glory like a hammer. It connected! Willow nearly grinned as Glory grimaced. The Sphere hurt. Hurt enough that Glory actually retreated from Faith, who continued to swing the Sphere menacingly. Beside her stood Buffy.

"You bitch," breathed Glory. "Just you wait..."

"And what? You'll force us all to wear your wardrobe?" Faith's grin was feral. "Hey, reason enough to kill you right there, I say." Another swing of the Sphere, aimed at Glory's head but only connecting with her shoulder. Still, it brought forth a cry of pain. Willow was glad.

Willow began to stand. It wasn't easy, but she was pretty sure she'd be able to manage. Having noted precisely where Tara fell, Willow had a location she needed to be. Still, she wasn't ignoring the battle. Only too clearly she saw Glory pick up a steel girder. Buffy grabbed Faith, tackling her to the ground just in time to avoid its path as Glory tossed it. And laughed.

"You're going to wish I killed you," she began. But never finished. A wrecking ball hit her from the side. Up at the ball's controls, Xander met Willow's eyes and gave a thumbs-up.

Faith wasted no time. She rose and swung the Sphere directly onto Glory as hard as she could. Again. And again! Not letting her get up from all fours. Meanwhile, in between Faith's blows, Buffy was hitting her as well. Glory looked--Yes! Tired! More than tired--a trickle of blood was actually appearing from her nose! It was working!

Until Glory simply reached up and caught the Dagon's Sphere. Caught it and held it. The Sphere's glow immediately flared, then began to fade. In less than three seconds, the Sphere seemed to actually freeze solid, then shatter on Glory's fingers.

Yet that destruction took a lot out of her. Rather than resume the attack, she remained still. Wearily, she looked at the Slayers, not even trying to get up off her knees. "Like you understand..."she said "...anything!" She took a shuddering breath. "Home," she whined "is that so much to ask for?"

Buffy's fist connected with her jaw.

That's when it happened. Glory...changed. Her long golden hair darkened and pulled back into her head. Nose and shoulders broadened, eyes shifted color, skin coarsened. The delicate but cruel features became harder yet softer at the same time. A man, wearing Glory's long burgundy gown, looked up at the Slayers. He was bruised, exhausted, and bleeding.

"It wasn't me," Ben gasped.

* * *

Tara picked herself up off the ground. She didn't think any bones were broken. Cracked, maybe. But she didn't waste any time. Willow was far, far too close to Glory. Limping, she headed back to the construction site. Taser blasts and a variety of thudding noises echoed in the night. The minions were being kept busy. Which meant none would get in the way. Good. For them as well as Tara. Baring her fangs, Tara hurried as much as her weary body would allow.

But the picture that presented itself when Tara arrived was nothing like she feared. Instead of Willow shattered across the ground (a sight she knew would shred her own mind), or even combat between the Slayers and hellgod, she saw Ben cowering on the ground. He looked beaten up--nose and ears bleeding, bruises along his mouth. More, he was wearing...wasn't that Glory's outfit? The truth dawned on Tara. She'd known Glory's fellow hellgods had banished her. Here then was the other part of her "punishment." To be bonded to a mortal man, presumably in order to live out his natural lifespan, then die with him. An elegant cruelty, when you thought about it.

"It wasn't me," Ben was gasping. "It was never me. Not like I ever got a choice. Glory--she ruined everything I ever wanted, everything I ever had too." He looked as if he might cry, but was just too tired. "You have no idea," he said, "how much I hate her."

Faith and Buffy looked at each other. Off to the side, Willow was managing to stand. She looked unhurt. Thanks to all the gods. Well, all but one.

"If I could just get rid of her somehow..."

"Buffy!" Tara's voice cut through Ben's whining. She pointed up. "Dawn." Buffy took a quick look towards the top of the ramshackle tower. High above, her sister was visible, bound at the edge of a platform. More to the point, she wasn't alone. Tara's vampiric senses could make out the identity of the figure approaching her. Barely. She didn't recognize him at first, in a tailored dark suit instead of the near-rags he'd always worn before.

"Its Doc," Tara told her. Buffy wasted no time. Leaving them all behind, she bounded for the stairs and raced up.

While Tara made her way to Willow, Faith stared at the cowering and bruised Ben. Neither one said or did anything while Tara reached her beloved, wrapping arms around her with a sigh of relief. Or was that her sigh, at seeing Tara still alive after being thrown through the air into a wall? It hardly mattered. They were alive. Both of them. Weakened, yes, but strong enough to support each other.

"I really oughta just gut you," Faith hissed. Ben almost managed not to cringe. "But..." Faith looked up, at where Buffy was racing to reach the top of the tower before it was too late, "...Bee wouldn't be happy." She knelt next to him. "Glory, she's lost her chance. You tell that bitch to get her tail out of dodge, 'cause we know all about her now. Next time, she won't have it so easy." Under her glare, Ben nodded. He crawled to his feet, and staggered away into the night. Then Faith ran--or tried to, managing little more than a really fast walk--up the staircase, after Buffy.

Mistake, Tara thought to herself. Sooner or later, Glory would reassert herself, reclaiming Ben's body and life. She'd have all her powers, know us as well as we know her. Worse, she'll have nothing to lose. Maybe not for a while, but she would return to Sunnydale with only one goal left--revenge. On Buffy and Faith. Plus Xander and Anya and Giles and all the Scoobies.

Including Willow.

"Tara?" Some of her resolution must have showed. When she looked into Willow's eyes, she saw so many things. Too many, perhaps. But the promise of happiness, of years spent in this lady's arms, was as ashes before the fear Tara felt. Fear for another day, when Glory would take her time killing Willow. Certainly a hellgod would know precisely how to make a mere witch believe death the sweetest of mercies. Hungrily, Tara kissed her. As if it might well be their last. Only by exerting her will could Tara break away.

"Tara? What are you going to do?"

"Make you safe." She didn't dare look. Tara walked as quickly as she could towards the shadows where Ben had left. Cracked bones were not broken, after all. As a vampire she could still track him. He was bleeding. They were both hurt, but unlike Ben, Tara has superhuman strength.

Besides, his blood would further her healing. If there was any point to healing. She doubted Willow would forgive her for this...

* * *

Willow was still startled at how quickly Tara could move. She shouldn't have been, but she was. Tara had nearly left the construction site before Willow could even react. And dizziness prevented her from taking more than a step or two before grabbing something. Not that she let that stop her.

"Tara! Wait!"

But Tara didn't wait. Some part of Willow recognized only too well Tara's reaction. Had someone threatened or hurt Tara, Willow understood herself enough to know she'd go over-the-top ballistic. Even the threat of it would make her blood boil. And she wasn't a demon. In Tara's mind, clearly, Ben still represented a threat. An unacceptable threat. Unacceptable as in must-die-before-he-gets-much-older-like-ten-minutes-older. Because....

Because Ben's life threatened Willow. He contained Glory, that much seemed plain. If he lived, so too did Glory.

Tara just wouldn't allow that.

Willow understood too well. Yet the fact that Ben was human made her still try and catch up with Tara. Make her stop. Killing a human wasn't the answer. It couldn't be. Could it? Should it? Even if the answers to those were yes, could Willow live with herself? Or--Tara? Frankly, she didn't want to find out.

She surprised herself at just how quickly she managed to move, holding on to piles of bricks, or walls, or even cars as if they were canes. It was slow going, but steady. And swift as Tara had looked, she had also been limping. Willow might still be able to catch up with her. She had to. And see, now, the dizziness was passing. Movement wasn't so very hard. Not easy yet. But easier, and that was something, right? The minions all around were still fighting, but not as hard as they had been. In fact, they were pretty much falling to the combined efforts of the Scoobies and Initiative soldiers. So at least Willow didn't have to deal with any pesky demonlings trying to stop her. Crossing half a block seemed to take a longish time. She didn't dare slow down, not even when her eyeballs started to melt. Well, okay not melt really. It--or they--just felt like they were. Just as her teeth seemed strangely soft at moments. But stopping was just so not an option no matter how you looked at things.

And hearing Ben's voice call out in alarm somewhere up ahead only got her moving faster.

One lonely streetlamp illustrated the scene before her. Ben, obviously battered, was limping frantically away from Tara, whose own limping gate was the only reason Ben still lived. The vampire's eye was feral gold, her mouth befanged, and somehow the unsteadiness of her gait only made her more menacing.

"Tara!"

But she didn't respond to her name, only relentlessly pursued Ben.

That was the moment when a rainbow of light shot across the sky. It was something like a slow motion lightning bolt, one that didn't fade but stayed across the sky. All of them looked up, towards the tower. The glowing ribbon was directly below it--specifically below the extension where Dawn had been held. Even as they watched, the ribbon stopped looking like a ribbon. Instead, it became a hole, the edges eating away at...what?

No matter. Blue and white bolts of energy began to boil out of it. The ground shifted, sending Willow to the ground again with a thud.

Oh goddess. The portal! Someone had begun the ritual, spilling Dawn's blood. Now that blood was opening all the doors to all realities, loosing chaos into the world. Dimly, dealing with yet another blow to the head, Willow tried to make out what was going on around her.

A shadowy figure ran past her.

High above, what looked like some kind of...dinosaur...flapped its wings as it soared out of the glowing tear in reality.

To her right, she saw Tara on her hands and knees. She was crawling towards Willow. Her face was human again, but no less determined.

Parts of the walls in nearby building were cracking. An eldritch lightning bolt struck the garbage dumpster in the alley. Instantly, it melted. But more disturbingly, hundreds of bright red insects began swarming out of the glowing remains. Or at least they seemed to be insects...

Behind Tara, Ben had somehow managed to get to his feet. More, he'd grabbed a piece of wood from the building supplies strewn in the area. This piece was broken, jagged on one end. He now brandished it, heading directly for Tara from behind!

Yet another lightning flash. This one a sickening green. It made Ben with his makeshift wooden stake look a thousand times more menacing. Frantically, Willow tried to summon the strength with which to push him back--or knock the wood out of his hand! Or something! But she was too tired. She simply could not concentrate.

Ben suddenly screamed.

The shadowy figure that had run past Willow moments before was on him now. She (it seemed female) had leapt up onto Ben, knocking him over, then fastening onto him in a way that was very familiar to Willow. He barely had time to make any sounds at all as he struggled--and the vampire fed gluttonously. Tara and Willow reached each other, holding on for dear life. Whoever their savior was, it was pretty clear she'd saved them only a little time. Now that Dawn had been bled (was she still alive, Willow wondered?), chaos would grow until the world itself dissolved.

Including Tara. She clung to her lover, who held her just as tightly. All around thunderclaps were shattering windows. On top of that, weird noises like the songs of whales were echoing through the night sky. For a few moments, the stars seemed to race instead of crawl across the sky.

Willow heard Tara's voice in her ear. "I love you," she kept saying over and over. "I love you!"

Tears in her eyes, Willow whispered back "If I gotta die, this is how I wanna go." And held as tight as she could, savoring each curve and moment of these, their last.

"Tara...?"

It took several moments for Tara to respond. When she did, she looked behind her, and gaped. Standing before them was the vampire who had killed Ben. She looked emaciated, with matted hair and clothes little more than rags. But her eyes! They were looking at everything as if it was all new and wondrous. Like a child? No. More like someone waking from a long sleep. Barely a moment before Tara said it, Willow knew the name of the girl before them. Even then, she could barely hear it above the din of screams and lightning bolts around them.

"Michelle?"

Slowly, the girl nodded. She blinked. Then she shivered slightly. "I'm cold."

And one second later--as Willow contemplated what those words might mean--the awful noises stopped. The sky returned to normal. A whining, random wind vanished. More, in the air Willow sensed that something had changed. Something had stopped.

Michelle looked around her, face puzzled on many levels.

"What happened?" she asked.

TO BE CONTINUED