Missing (Completed 12/25/09)

[NeverChosen]

Greetings!
Just a note that I'm back to my intended weekly schedule since the main storyline will be back to the forefront. That also, conveniently, gives me time to utilize the kind services of a new beta (also pronounced; "poor schmuck"), since the next chapter to go up was pretty much rewritten since anyone looked at it for me.
In the mean time;

Zampsa- I put together a couple of different potential scenes for Tara's dad, but none of them really did him justice. So I thought a while and decided I had two choices; be really vague and let the reader make up their own worst case scenario (which would feel like laziness on my part), or go with the idea that there are a few people in everyone's lives that they will never be in complete control around... and when it involves a vampire with the perceived focus of much of her life's suffering, the resulting action would likely be over very quickly. The vampire regrets this particular lapse, or course, but she gets to at least find some satisfaction in her brother.

WT4E- Tara seemed to me to be someone who would be conscious of her own mental workings. It always annoys me when a character is defined in a single trait. They are evil, therefor do things for the sake of being eeeeevil. It makes no sense, logically or emotionally. There has to be some kind of motivation. I gave most vampires the excuse of rebellion against their old lives, but it seemed like a rather poor excuse for a reasonably intelligent character to act out. So instead, Tara tried that, found it unsatisfying, moved on to the next idea. And the next. And finally figured out, with a bit of thought, what was missing.
You didn't think Donny's fate was gratuitous? I guess leaving out vivid descriptors made it a bit of a laundry list... I wasn't sure that anyone would want to read a scene that belongs in a Saw movie, so putting everything in retrospect gave it the detachment of the vampire's perception on events. I'm not sure if that was the right decision to make, but that's how it came out and I'll leave it be.

LittleBit- Oh, she's downright evil. She's just not stupid and evil. She has her own thoughts, memories, and motivations... plus she is inclined enough to think about these things that making her act like a typical vampire just didn't make any sense. As to working for what she wants; if the goal is worth it, wouldn't anyone? Just becoming a vampire shouldn't automatically result in becoming impulsive- we never really had reason to think of Tara that way prior to vamping, so why start now?

Sometimes I wonder if I respond too much to folks that leave me feedback... I just get insanely pleased when people are interested enough to tell me what effects them.

Next chapter should be up toward the end of the week.

-Never

[spells42]

Never
I don't usually go for fics involving W or T as a vampire - I just prefer them human and I guess it is that ultimate potential for redemption that I like to have.
However, your fic has a horrific fascination in the way you quite clearly show the difference between alive and undead: it is that total absence of thought, care, or consideration for any other being. Your Tara vamp is a great character and I'm greatly enjoying (doesn't seem like the right word when part of me is going 'euugghhhh!' at what I'm reading - ref. Donny's fate) the insight into her thoughts.

Ok, I'm here for the ride. Whatchya got next? lol
thanks
Anne

[NeverChosen]

Spells42- I think that's the nicest feedback I've gotten yet. ^_^ I got me a convert! All I can hope for is that these characters make sense. They have their own histories, and while that does not dictate their actions, it does strongly influence their perceptions of events... which is why I think Tara would come out this way as a vampire.
What have I got next? Angst is a good bet. Though I'd be interested in hearing what people *think* I'm going to do next...

-Never

[NeverChosen]

Missing


Chapter 7: Accountability

Legal: I don't own the stories, concept, characters, or anything else in BtVS. I own this story, but expect no financial gain from it.

Summary: Giles is working late.

Notes: I suggest reading Ch 6 again before proceeding, just to get back into the swing of the main storyline… the Divergent Chapters had a very different pace and tone about them.
This chapter hasn't been beta'd by anyone (and has been completely rewritten since I started posting- this story really is in constant evolution until the day it is posted).

----


Another night, another blasted ledger. Shop keeping had seemed such a simple, quaint idea. Keep a few knickknacks on the shelves to keep the doors open, sell the real magical goods to keep tabs on the local casting population, and have a tax-deductable location to keep the necessary library. Regardless of the ulterior motives, it was a shop. In Anya's ineffable words, you sold things at reasonable markups and people gave you money for them, which could then be exchanged for other goods and services. Any moron could do it.


Except this moron.


Giles realized that he had forgotten to subtract out the losses from a layaway that had spoiled prior to being picked up and entered it into his book. Another hazard of fresh herbs. Then there was this quibble that they'd had with customs over import taxation on crystals. He'd assumed they were decorations, while customs had insisted on classifying them as minerals, subject to a much higher tariff. Then, to top it off, they had ordered in an Orb of Thesula, only to find the rare item in pieces when they opened the box. The shipper had been quite indignant when they inquired and seeing as he was one of their few reliable sources of enscrolled goods they had been forced to absorb the loss. He made another note. Now, then, to add in the back order totals…


The lights in the room shuddered for a moment but didn't fully extinguish. Perhaps Sunnydale was going to start rolling blackouts this year, the way Los Angeles had been threatening to.


Giles looked up long enough to note the time and sigh. 1 am. There was a time when he was up this late every night, patrolling with Buffy or waiting for her return. It was a long time ago, it seemed, since she had needed that. Even though she was only going through the motions now, it was still with a competence that made such mother hen behavior ridiculous. So instead it was ledgers that he devoted himself to.


It was while he debated going home for a few hours rest or trying for one last putsch to finish that he heard a noise from the doorway. Startled, he looked up.


"Willow?"


She looked terrible, eyes rimmed red and face drawn as if in pain. She was looking at him as if a thousand things were going through her mind, but none could be put to words. Her back was straight, posture belying the extreme fragility her being otherwise conveyed.


"You weren't supposed to be here." Willow whispered, looking away sharply.


The lights shivered again and a cold finger drew down Giles' spine. There had been a time he could have sensed the magic viscerally, tasted the orichalcum scent of energy awaiting release and heard its hum in his veins. Those channels were long since cauterized to sterile uselessness, but he could still recognize the signs. Willow looked ready to break, but a truer statement would be that she was ready to explode. She seemed to have shaken loose of whatever shock had held her in place and was now heading purposefully toward the back of the shop with no further notice of him.


"Willow- what in God's name is wrong?" Giles rounded the counter and, in defiance of every instinct of self preservation, moved to intercept her. They stopped a pace away from each other and Willow again met his eyes, only this time in challenge.


"Let me by."


"Tell me what happened." He countered.


"She's dead." Willow said it like an attack, but repeated it like the wound she obviously felt. "She… she's dead."


Giles' heart stopped. It happened again. Buffy must have found the finale she was looking for and taken it. There was no other way it could have happened. His knees felt weak and Giles found himself moving to brace against the counter as they began to buckle. Willow brushed by as soon as the way was clear, not giving him a further glance.


"How..?" That much, at least, he had to know.


"Angelus. He turned her."


Angelus. He must have deceived her. Pretended to be the man he had been, then killed her as the monster he was. Giles regretted the day he had become accustomed to the vampire among them. It was his fault. He should have known. He should have done what was necessary, even if Buffy's heart had been the cost. For now the cost had been her life.


The steps up to the loft squeaked. Giles' eyes followed Willow's rapid ascent but his mind was elsewhere.


"When…?" Buffy had been there, in the shop, just this afternoon. Complaining about something trivial or bemoaning the latest failed interview- he couldn't recall. What was the last thing he had said to her? He wasn't even sure.


"I don't know when." The words were angry, but he knew it wasn't directed at him. Willow continued more quietly in bitter self reproach, "Tara died, and I didn't even know."


Tara?


It shouldn't have been a relief- it was wrong to feel so, but that was the precise sensation that flooded through him. Buffy was still alive. In mourning for something he couldn't fully understand, but alive. Then Giles realized what he was seeing. Tara had been killed, had been brought back with a demon in place of the most gentle of souls.


"What are you doing?" The accusation was plain. He knew, with absolute certainty, what the answer would be.


"Getting her back."


"After what you did to Buffy- knowing what you did- you would do the same to Tara?" Giles felt his own voice rising in anger, "Are you so sure she couldn't be in heaven-"


"Heaven? Buffy was in heaven knowing everything was all right- and it wasn't. Heaven lied to her and she wanted that lie." Willow slammed down the book she held. "Tara wouldn't just accept that kind of platitudinous crap."


"You can't do this."


"Watch me." Willow looked back over her shoulder. Giles saw the darkness swallow her eyes and moved to evade, trying to duck around behind the counter. He was only a quarter of the way there when everything stopped. By simple trick of fate his eyes were frozen on the open ledger he had been working on, the pages mocking his inability to move. He heard books sliding from the shelves, one after another. Each another stone sealing her in a fate she could not possibly be aware of.


"I'm going to save her, Giles. I know you'll try to stop me… fine. But if any of you try to dust Tara, you had best kill me first." The words were so calm, he could almost miss the threat they held. Unable to turn, he heard the silly ring of the bell over the door, felt the rush of air as it closed in Willow's wake, and could do nothing.


Story of my life, isn't it? Watcher to a Slayer that does better without me. Mentor to a brilliant girl, but so wrapped up in his own mission that he turned around one day to see the path she had taken was one he knew better than to allow.


Because I failed to teach her what the books could not. The ledger on the counter laughed back at his thoughts, proof of all the little excuses that had filled his life in place of what needed to be done. There had been a time when his ambivalence toward Tara had been taken as intolerance for their relationship. A relationship based in the practice of magic was what he had feared. Magic of passion rather than prudence. In the end he had realize he was projecting his own indiscretions on someone he barely even knew, quite unfairly.


In his own defense, Tara had seemed like the balance point to Willow's drive. She had a thorough grounding in magic and no apparent proclivity to excess. He had simply hoped too much, expected too much of a young woman in love. Love can make a hero of a common man, but so could it make coward of the strongest heart.


Tara was dead. Worse, a vampire. Strong as Willow was, there was no return from that particular fate. Generations of Watchers had pondered the problem and they themselves had done their best to find a way around the curse of Angelus. No matter how motivated, how willing to sacrifice Willow was, it was a doomed prospect. There was but one cure for vampirism, and it ended in dust.


Willow was condemned to failure and Giles didn't know what she would do when that finally became clear. The best that could be hoped for was inconsolable grief and depression. The worst? Perhaps a vampire Willow wasn't going to exist solely in that alternate world.


Poor Tara. No one deserved the fate of a vampire, but for her it seemed especially heinous. It was impossible to imagine what she had become. Willow's vampiric twin had been a shock, but Tara… it defied conjecture.


Giles tried to push against the force that held him. It was useless. There was a time he might have been able to find the chinks in a spell, but that was before the demonic excesses had burned away any sense for the mystical. He worked blind when he did spell work now- one of the hundred reasons he had avoided the subject of magic with Willow. There were too many questions he couldn't answer. It wasn't exactly the sort of thing you brought up with your young charge.


Now he got to reap the rewards of his reticence. Willow was going to try the impossible and he was like as not to lose another piece of his self-made family. Angelus made it all that much more complicated. He was an official Champion, prophecy and all, with part to play in the grand scheme of things. As the only people in Sunnydale who could curse him were now his childe and a witch that would fry him on sight, that "grand scheme of things" was in grave jeopardy.


He had to do something. Save Willow from herself. Give Tara peace. Prepare Buffy for facing Angelus again.


Anything except stare at that blasted ledger.




********


Willow fell back from the pile of books before her with a gasp. Her back arched as the knowledge of generations of warlocks swamped through her. She didn’t know the magic. She was the magic. She fought her way through to the surface of her consciousness in time to see the storm of power swirling around her. She raised a hand and marveling at the text that swirled across it, fading into her pale skin even as she watched. It was thousands pages of centuries of research, of touching the darkness and coming away to teach what the scars revealed. It was coded in languages lost in time but laid plain her mind. She realized she could recite the lines she had just seen if she wanted to. It was a heady rush with an aftertaste of vinegar and ashes.


It didn’t tell her what she needed, though. She sorted through the volumes at the speed of thought and all it told her was that Tara was gone. The power that boiled inside wouldn’t accept that, any more than her heart would. She caught herself as her mind lashed out in frustration, the electricity in the building flickering and another lighting fixture exploding somewhere behind her. There was no time for a mystic tantrum. She looked down in front of her, willing an answer to emerge.


The blank pages of the tomes stared back starkly from between well worn leather covers. If Giles hadn’t been there, she would have absorbed them all, but she didn’t know how long her paralysis spell would last, so she just threw several that looked promising into her bag and left. A modification of her web-surfing spell had been just what she needed from that point, pulling the text directly into her mind the same way it had the electronic signals from her laptop. The downside was that the text only got to exist in one place at a time, and since this wasn’t just text in cache memory that could be replaced from outside sources, the books had been sacrificed to her needs.


She would owe Giles a lot of explanations, but that was a problem to deal with later. First she had to find Tara. Quickly. Bind her until an answer could be found. And find Angelus. He’d gotten away with too much- Buffy had let him go once too often. Her black eyes shone in cold wrath. He had to pay this time, for everything...


Everything, and especially Tara.

[Zampsa1975]

Yay for great update-y goodness... So Darth Rosenberg makes an appearance... I hope Dark Willow makes Angelus suffer before dusting him...

[NeverChosen]

Zampsa- I tend to think more along the lines of Darth Rosenberg Lite... perhaps the same general reactions, but hopefully a little smarter for her experiences. If nothing else, there are two major mitigating factors; she still has some kind of hope to save Tara, and she only got hold of a limited number of books. We'll see how it turns out..

I couldn't resist the text-crawling-on-skin scene (I'm a sucker for good FX), but I felt like the magic that made it possible needed to be explained. Specifically- why would Willow have learned the spell to do that in the first place? After all, it's destructive to the material it works on and she's not really the type to encourage destruction of the tools of learning. Well, if it were a variation on her web surfing spell, which would have no 'disappearing text' problem, it would make sense. I almost went in to an exposition of why draining the spells out of the books would also involve a transfer of magical energy- the text itself should be inert. But then I worried about diluting the actual sensation evoked by the scene.

Angelus will get his due. What that 'due' is... will be posted eventually.



Does anyone read the responses to their comments? Just curious.
-Never

[NeverChosen]

Another brief divergence.

Missing


Divergent Chapter 7: Meanwhile, back at the Bat Cave


Rating: PG-13 (implied badness, but this chapter is pretty tame)

Legal: I don't own the stories, concept, character designs, or anything else in BtVS. I own this story, but expect no financial gain from it.

Feedback: Please! Criticism would be lovely… If you don't tell me what I'm doing wrong, I will probably do it again.

Notes: None of the Divergent chapters have been beta'd. This is only a single- the next posting will be the main plotline again.



“You’re back.” Angelus motioned to the two minions that had drug Tara into the room. They shoved her down to her knees, then both faded back. They’re good boys, both. This one, though. Naughty or nice? Too smart for her own good, too mousy to make a decent minion- I’ll probably have to kill her before we leave town. She’ll be too much of a liability.


“I apologize for my tardiness. My duty has b-been discharged.” Tara remained kneeling before him, head bowed. He could see she had chosen to wear her human face- a fine sign of restraint, if not the usual fledge fashion. He was surprised she’d actually followed through, as much as she’d resisted before her little disappearing act.


“So the Slayer got my little message, did she?” Angelus looked down at his returned progeny with narrowed eyes. He offered both his hands, which she took, and drew her to her feet.


Tara nodded. Angelus noted with something between puzzlement and satisfaction that she still had a note of terror when she looked at him, rather than mere grudging obedience. It was a welcome change to see a vampire that didn’t feel the need to swagger. At least she showed him proper respect… other than the passive resistance that had infuriated him before she disappeared. Her infractions at that point had been addressed- if the lesson was learned, so much the better. Her current obedience would get boring, most likely, but it was a refreshing change.


He ran his fingers through her hair, combing it back out of her face. She was such a sweet thing, just asking to be spoiled. He tipped her chin up with a finger, coaxing her to look him in the face. She still didn’t, lowering her lids and pulling away from his hand. It was hard to be angry with her, despite her mutinous trip out of Sunnydale. He’d almost written her off, but now she’d come crawling back, saying she’d completed the task she had turned from before. It made his plans so much simpler that he was inclined to just enjoy his luck. He needed to hear why she had returned, though, before he used her again. Information was power- if you could figure out what made a vamp tick, you owned them. But to know what made her tick, he had to make her tock. Talk. So he addressed her as if a favored childe, rather than demanding an accounting of her actions.


“Have a little fun too? Hmm?”


Now he saw the cruelty enter her eyes as she grinned slowly in reply. Good. He was beginning to wonder if she hadn’t picked up a soul on her trip, quiet as she was, but now that didn’t look too likely. “Tell Daddy the details,” he urged softly.


“I went home. Visited the family…” Tara smiled softly to herself, as if recalling a summer vacation trip. She spun away, walking dreamily.


“And…?” Angelus prompted, catching her mid-spin from behind. His grip was firm enough to keep her from escaping mischievously again. She didn’t struggle, but leaned back against him, as if a child in his embrace. Her smile widened as she looked up and her eyes finally met Angelus’, sparkling playfully.


“You would have been proud.”


++++


When Angelus had finally let her slip away, Tara went about reinforcing the various wards she had placed around their lair. Ah, Willow. You've been eroding away at them- clever girl! There were traces of spells Tara hadn’t even heard of, let alone tried. Bad, bad Willow- she was far further into the blacker side of magic that Tara had ever realized. Not that she particularly cared anymore- it was the principle of the thing. Well, naughty Willow can be punished later. There is plenty of time for that, but I should really start planning for our next run in. It’s inevitable, really.


A trip to the Magic Box was in order, after she made sure the Scoobies were gone for the night. She’d helped put up the protections on the shop, she could tear them down. It was tempting to ransack the place when she did, both for the conniption that Anya would have and the additional trouble it would cause Willow. Troubling Willow really wasn't the point though. Better that they never know she'd been there. Just pick up the components she needed, some candles, maybe even see if she could find that nifty necklace from the display case that Willow liked but was way beyond their budget. And then? Maybe booby-trap the place.


Tara frowned.


How do I set a booby-trap? You’d think I’d know that, at least. My god, my soul really crippled my sense of curiosity when I was alive, didn’t it. She shook her head in wonder.


Willow knew what Tara had become, and from what Tara had observed so far she was reacting just as Tara had expected. Freaking out, probably followed by a good cry to Buffy and her friends, who would rally around her and go out Tara-hunting. Not to kill her, but save her, of course. Killing was what you did to anonymous former-humans, not former-girlfriends. Sadly, Orbs of Thesula were prone to shattering, and while there wasn’t one within a detectable radius of Sunnydale, Tara had already laid the ritual to destroy any that crossed over city-limits. Then there was an extra little bit of magic to keep her soul happily wherever it had gone, with a great big lock to keep it there. That was one from Mama's books. The spell had originally been to prevent tragic victims from coming back as ghosts to haunt the living, but a soul was a soul. And hers was good and gone.


So Willow and company would come around, probably slay most of the vampires here- no great loss, really. They'd try to capture her and Angelus, do some mojo to try to make everyone shiny happy good again. When the magic didn't work, what would they try? Maybe stick them in a cabin with hours of Disney movies and Smurfs until the good oozed into them like a stench that couldn’t be scrubbed free. Then again, a hundred little blue men and one little blue girl? Not smacking of goodness when you really thought about it. A closed future for that race, but not before a spectacular amount of inbreeding resulted in hideous genetic disorders within a generation. And Disney movies? Pretty much all involved one or more dead parents, or killed them. Intellectualization could ruin any sappy sweetness they tried on her. Tara smiled. That was one thing a liberal arts education could do for you.


So what was her own master plot going to be? Get Willow. Seduce her to the dark side (we have cookies) or at least to a tolerance of the dark side. Show her that a vampire could love… what had Spike said? “Deeply, if not well”? It sounded like he had been quoting someone.


Willow was already half way to evil, if only she’d ever figure it out. She had good intentions, but true to another little saying, was well on her way to hell. Perhaps the key to all of this was not changing Willow’s perception of Tara as a vampire, but changing Willow’s perception of Willow. It might be easier- Willow had a remarkably fragile sense of identity, fueled by a self image almost as miserable as Tara’s own. Gotta love parents with expectations that make any achievement mundane. Given some quality time, it wouldn't take much to take Willow from impractical ideals to more liberal expedience. And it would be fun to mess with her mind, regardless.


This was all a rather dangerous proposition, but what else was there? Wreak vengeance on the rather long list of people whose abuses stood out in her memory. How long would that last, though? The other vampires seemed totally lacking in terms of meaningful existence. They played with their food and enjoyed feeling superior as they lived among their prey. It seemed rather shallow. A few ambitious ones formed groups, but they tended to have defeatist goals like destroying the world or taking over towns. Tara knew a little too much about the dynamic of predator and prey in an environment to buy into that load of bull. Spike had it right- find someone to share it with and even the most bland existence became an adventure.


Which brought it all back to Willow. Didn't it always. Tara finished the last series of wards with a private smile. They were to prevent detection, to warn Tara when they were breached… and offered no protection whatsoever to the vampires within. Cannon fodder, each and every one. Just ways to buy time.

[Zampsa1975]

Yay for great update-y goodness... I really like how vampTara has a purpose...

[NeverChosen]

Missing

Chapter 8: An Angel and a Demon

Legal: I don't own the stories, concept, character designs, or anything else in BtVS. I own this story, but expect no financial gain from it.

Rating: R (violence)

Summary: Willow finds the vampire nest.

Notes: Thanks to my new beta taranwillow4ever, without whom this would be far less readable!



Willow had learned at some point in life that sometimes it just took a little different way of doing things to get around seemingly complex problems. Something, most likely put in place by Tara, was keeping her locator spells from tracking either Tara or Angelus specifically. Unfortunately, a generalized vampire seeking spell would create too many possibilities.


Willow's frustration at feeling impotent to do anything jarred against the rushing stream of magic she had called into herself, demanding action. When her brain had finally kicked back into gear the solution had been simple- it would be like finding the Lord of the Dance. Tara had still been wearing her little azurite earrings the last time Willow had seen her. There should be a reasonable chance that Tara could be found where ever those earrings were, and the stone in them was unusual enough to make it a safe bet there weren't many like them in town. It felt strange chanting about jewelry, but the map she'd spread before her obligingly lit up.


Tara’s location looked like one of the older areas of Sunnydale, not far from Oakland Cemetery. Pulling open her ready-sack she took quick inventory of the carefully packed materials. Over-preparation of the past was coming in handy. There should be enough for a nest clearing and then some.


It would have to be 'and then some'. There were too many variables to make a proper accounting, the biggest and least pleasant of which was Tara herself. If she decided to follow usual vampire pattern it would be easy enough- a physical freeze for the short term, followed by a proper stasis spell when she had the chance. But this was Tara, or at least Tara's memories. Easy was unlikely. Willow had to assume that this would end in confrontation of the mystical sort. A sort she had no experience with.


She used to say I was more powerful than she was… for both our sakes I hope she was right.


Dwelling on it wouldn't solve anything and the point of diminishing returns for preparation had been reached. Without further thought Willow headed out the door.


--------



When things go wrong, they go so very far wrong. Walking had been a bad idea. Sunnydale was large enough to have a state university, but not large enough to avoid the handful of people she really didn't want to see. In this case, Xander. If she'd been paying any attention beyond where she was going, she might have avoided him. As it was, though, it was his hand on her arm that alerted her to his presence.

"Will! I've been looking everywhere." His grip wasn't hard, but she still found herself pulled to face him.

"Let go of me."

Xander withdrew as if shocked at the command. She couldn't be sure he hadn't been, in a more literal sense… she'd been charging slowly but steadily off the Hellmouth since she started walking and she hardly had the emotional control needed to keep it entirely contained.

"Giles told us what happened." He seemed to have trouble meeting her eyes. "I can't believe it… I mean… Tara…"

"I'm getting her back." She cut off his sympathy. Sympathy was giving up.

"You can't. We can't. She's a vampire, Will." He sounded pained. Pain was allowed. Pain was motivational.

"Then what Xander- you want to kill her too?" She started to turn away.

"Not to argue with the Black Eyes of Doom… but she's already dead. It's an 'it'- a vampire. Not Tara." He belabored. As if he could change her mind. "If we don't kill her she's just going to keep hurting you."

"Killing her is hurting me, or did you miss that part?"

"It isn't her!" Xander seemed so sure of his words. As if he was trying to explain what she didn't understand. As if he wasn't the one who just didn't get it.

"I don't have time for this." Willow pulled loose and started striding away. Xander trotted to keep up.

"You found her? Them?" He looked around frantically. "Just wait- wait until I can call Buffy."

That was the last thing she needed. The Slayer prancing in and killing any hope of saving Tara. She stopped suddenly, opening her sack and rooting around for a minute. Xander seemed to take this as a good sign.

"Just wait here- I'll get Buffy here, pronto." Xander placed himself squarely in front of her, hands out like he stopping traffic.

Pulling out what she needed Willow didn't even answer him. She tossed a handful of powder in the air, invoking it with a word. There were only so many places a vampire nest could be found in the direction she was headed. To give Xander any more indication toward her destination just meant imminent interference. She couldn't afford that.

The magic took hold and her world shifted. Thank the goddess for prior proper planning. When they'd used this same teleport spell on Glory she'd actually knocked herself unconscious. She was stronger now, beyond simply the borrowed power of the texts within her. More importantly, though, she'd finally gotten the kinks worked out of the spell. The drain was still significant, but it was a reasonable sacrifice in the face of what lay ahead. And what lay ahead right now was a rug shop, one of those with a permanent ‘Going out of business’ sign attached to the front awning. In this case, though, the sign had been more than an advertisement- there was an ad for a rental agency prominent on the front window.


From the outside the shop looked like any other boarded up business left in the wake of Sunnydale’s commercial progress. Inside, she had managed to ascertain, was a different story. Though well cloaked and warded, once she had pinpointed this place as Tara's location Willow had been able to scan the vicinity. She'd caught traces of at least six vampires, but not more than a dozen. Willow took a few deep breaths, pulling enough energy off the Hellmouth to replace what she had used in the teleportation. It burned, but the pain paled in comparison to the raw ache of what had happened to Tara. Before she could choke up again Willow cut off that line of thought.


Focus. First, kill Angelus. Neutralize Tara somehow. Then find a cure.


She checked her bag again, riffling through the dozen or so packets of powders and leaves, then loosening the chemistry-set phials. There were a lot of spells from the dark tomes that wouldn’t need any of this, but there was no way to know what she’d be facing. Angelus hadn’t survived two hundred years by being stupid.


Everything in place, Willow pulled one of the phials and popped the cork. It smelled funny and she knew it tasted worse, but it was an easy way to avoid immediate bodily damage when attempting a frontal assault on a vampire lair.


“Bottoms up.” As expected, the mixture tasted vile and she gagged for a moment. Her vision grew hazy as the magic took effect and she didn’t wait any longer before walking up to the shop’s side door. Rather than reaching for the knob she drew a quick breath and walked through the closed door, feeling only a slight increase in resistance as she phased through it.


The shop interior was dim, but not really dark. Scattered bulbs were lit, although many were burnt out or broken. Willow crept quietly, despite a distinct impulse to just roar out her anger and despair in challenge, raining a fire of righteous vengeance down on everything that answered. That had not been very successful with Glory and Willow was anything but so stupid as to repeat her mistakes. Angelus was no Hell God, but he was threat enough to deserve careful handling.


There was another thing that Glory had taught Willow. Caring for Tara in the aftermath of that near-debacle had shown her that she had to survive. Vengence in itself would not make things right. It was up to her to save Tara after the threat of Angelus was removed.


The first vampire she encountered was lounging on a pile of torn up carpeting, intent on a Gameboy in his hands. It beeped a chipper little tune that Willow recognized as one of the Mario series. She sighed. Vampires were so retro sometimes. Hearing something, the vampire raised his head, yellow eyes scanning the room.


Willow sweated for a moment as he looked straight at her. When his eyes continued without pause she relaxed enough to silently slide a sharpened dowel rod out of her bag. She waited until the vampire returned to his game, then slowly levitated the stake into the air. Leaving contact with her, its outline solidified. Her mind propelled it in a streaking line, imbedding the missile between the vampire’s ribs. His confusion bloomed just before his body crumbled into dust.


One down. A dozen to go. Willow didn’t know the number for sure. It was possible one or two had come or gone before she got here. There was sewer access beside the building. The sun was up, but there was still ample shade from the long shadows to allow a motivated vampire to travel.


The next room yielded another two vampires chatting amicably about the night’s kill. The first fell to Willow’s floated stake, but the second one leapt to his feet when his partner disintegrated.


“Hey- there’s something here!” Willow’s stake buried itself in the vamp’s arm as he turned, searching for what his eyes couldn’t find. She ducked. Her invisibility was effective against the unwary, but she was no Marcy. An aware vamp could pick her out, visible target or not. Things were about to get a whole lot harder. She dropped her hand into her bag, feeling for one of the powder packets.


“What are you yelling about?” A female vamp in a tank top and cargo pants appeared in the doorway, grimacing as the scent of fresh ash reached her.


“Something stuck a pencil in my damn arm and Pat just poofed. We got a live one in here.”


“Dale, Brian- cover the doors. Gail, take point. Chris- stop bleeding on the floor and make yourself useful.” A male voice sounded from the next room. Once three of the vampires started in to the room, Willow stood, blowing the powder in her palm forward.


“Freeze.” The mental manipulation twisted the molecules of the vampires, stopping them mid-cycle. The powder coalesced into a shining coat over the still bodies, releasing her from having to maintain the spell. They’d thaw, but not soon enough to do their boss much good.


“Got you.”


Willow felt herself seized from behind by rough hands. She was being thrown at the wall- she was fairly sure of that fact even though her sense of equilibrium refused to accept the notion. A spike of magic turned her freefall into a controlled flight that bruised her arms and knees as she struck, but spared her a brutal knock on the head. She landed awkwardly, but gained her bearings before her assailant caught her again. Her eyes caught the vampire’s a moment before it could reach her.


“Up!”


The vampire shot upward, head hitting the ceiling in a shower of plaster. He dropped unconscious to the floor as Willow stood, breath coming harder between bared teeth. It wasn’t so different from propelling a stake… just a hundred and fifty pounds heavier… with no preparation. All of which put it on a little different scale. She briefly considered trying to hurl the vampire at his frozen buddies and see which one broke which, but voices from the other room indicated she didn't have time.


“Crap- witch!”


“Where’s Tara?” The words came someone who plainly expected to be answered; someone in charge.


“Not back yet.” This one was more timid.


“I’ll kill her!” The voice in charge roared. “She said she’d warded this place!”


Willow got to the doorway, stake in one hand, powder packet in the other. The stake flew true and one less vampire stood in the room as she took in the scene. There were still six of them. No- on second look one's a dead victim-only five. No Tara. And no Angelus. Just minions. They started the rush toward her, in typical vampire fashion. Stupid minions, too. Willow's face shifted from anger to a disappointed calm.



“You won’t be killing anyone.”


The back room antics were nothing compared to what she unleashed into the room before her. The powder in her hand disintegrated as she invoked words not meant for the human tongue, particles rising in a shimmering cloud that expanded into a wailing storm of spirits. In a rush, the spirits shot out, glowing trails tracking them as they hurtled toward the vampires. Two managed to throw themselves out of the way, but the others were not so fortunate. The energy disappeared into their bodies with small impacts and the vampires fell writhing to the floor. Their misery was short lived as smoke began to sift from every orifice, culminating in a burst of ash. The spell would be no less painful to the humans it was designed for, but its lethal effects were just a convenient side effect for vampires it was now turned against. Despite standing well back, Willow tasted the ashes, their dry bitterness raking her throat as she breathed. In a moment of incongruity she sneezed, forcing her to blink.


“You’re flirting with death, coming here.”


Willow tried to pinpoint the voice, but the male vampire that had escaped her assault kept well hidden. She smirked, wondering if he thought that would save him. Vampires were too focused on the physical. A short incantation highlighted the streaking trail of a supernatural being in sudden motion and she couldn’t react fast enough to completely avoid the fist that streaked toward her jaw. The warning was enough that she started to duck away, getting a bruise instead of broken bone for her efforts.


It hurt, but more than that it spun Willow to the ground, skinning her hands against the floor. From the corner of her eye she saw a kick aimed at her head. Unable to dodge in time, she breathed a word that made the air seem to shudder about her. A sound of pain and disbelief followed the crunch of breaking bone, making her wince involuntarily. The spell was a one shot, reversing the forces directed against it, but the effect was satisfying. She stood slowly, ignoring the vampire that had attacked her. With a rather spectacularly shattered foot, he wasn't going anywhere. One to go.


What her eyes didn't see, her mind found. The final vampire was trying to sneak around her toward the back. A coward, looking to run. Willow sneered. Good choice. It meant she had to choose now. Follow him and hope he led her to Tara or Angelus. Or get the information from him here. Skulk in sewer muck or torture a vampire?


No contest.


Willow made a show of rounding the helpless vampire on the floor, pulling a sharpened dowel rod from her Bag of Tricks. She levitated it off her hand for a moment, then plunged it unerringly. As expected, even as the ash exploded, the last vampire made his rush to escape.


"Ah-ah. No you don't." Willow telekinetically shoved at the vampire's knees, sending him careening to the floor with minimal effort. He flipped to his feet expertly, but she was only buying time as she invoked the spell packet she had prepared.


"Gravitational Shift."


There was a rush of air as it dissolved, the particles spreading and racing toward the far wall in a cloud. The vampire was caught by them and was swept backward as if it had been a solid wave. The wall shuddered where he impacted, cracks radiating across the drywall but not giving in.


The vampire smiled at her, yellow eyes crinkling in genuine interest. "You must be Willow. Tara told us about you." He shifted, then leapt off the wall at her.


"Not enough, apparently." Willow didn't bother moving aside, but made the motion of upturning a snow globe. The vampire lost most of his grace as his trajectory changed again and he found 'down' now meant the brick wall opposite him. He bounced a little as he hit, making Willow think of old cartoons. He 'stood' quickly, bracing to leap again.



"You know what defines stupidity? Doing the same thing over and over, but expecting a different result." Willow shifted tactics. Instead of another shift, she just focused the field. The resulting crunch was satisfying on a visceral level, though the vampire was little better than pinned in place. "I need two things from you- Angelus and Tara."


"Or you'll sparkle me to death?"


"Or I will make you wish you hadn’t been reborn.” Willow ground out. The vampire she had pinned to the wall started a crude description of what she could do with her questions, so she cut him off and gestured broadly. “Twist.”


With a scream that echoed off the walls, the vampire’s right arm was pulled from his side and twisted like a corkscrew, the joints popping wetly in rapid sequence, followed by a drier snap of bones. The limb dropped uselessly to the creature’s side and his howl reached a new pitch.


“Quiet! Where is he?!” The vampire’s ceased to wail abruptly, though his mouth still grimaced in a rictus of agony. His throat worked, but no sound emerged. Then the yellow eyes brightened and Willow chanced to look behind her.


Tara stood in the doorway, vamp face blazing.


“I’m looking for your sire, baby, and this bastard isn’t helping.” Willow said, seeming somewhat put out, black eyes shining. “Care to help? Unless he’s ready now?”


“Tara- kill her!” The vamp was able to break his silence with a gesture from the red haired witch, but Willow just sighed at the outburst.


“Riflessione” Tara commanded, casting a hand out toward the vampire on the wall. There wasn't enough time to react before the spell that held him there rebounded against Willow. She was thrown back against the opposite wall, driving the breath out of her. Her victim dropped to the ground.


“We need to leave- the others are coming.” Tara said quickly, running to help the vampire to his feet, taking care to avoid his maimed arm.


“We’ll take them when they aren’t prepared. Kill this one and meet me at the crypt.” The vamp shrugged off Tara’s help and jerked his head toward where Willow was regaining her wind. No sooner had he started toward the door than it slammed shut and Tara saw a fresh-hewn stake shooting from Willow’s outstretched hand toward his back.


A hiss of effort from Tara was followed by the stake ricocheting off a diaphanous blue shield that sprang into existance. As it fell she sprang toward Willow, who managed to scramble out of the way more by luck by than art.


“What happened to ‘I would never hurt you’.” Willow gasped, digging in her bag for another one of her powder packets.


“You'll heal.” Tara replied evenly. “But I can’t have you dusting my sire.”


“Your sire?" Willow stopped mid-motion, looking up in genuine confusion. She continued, very deliberately,


"Tara… that’s not Angel.”


Tara paused, searching Willow’s face. Finding whatever she was looking for she dropped back a pace, then two. Her voice started soft, but rose in a steady crescendo. “I am getting sick of people who play with my head.”


“Really. He’s not.” Willow said earnestly. “I mean, yeah, he sorta looks like him. Maybe. In bad light, anyway. But Angel’s hair is even stupider than that.”


With another intense look Tara turned away, growling softly. Her sire was already out the door and she streaked after him. Willow’s hand closed on the packet she was looking for and she raised it high. Before she could scatter the contents, though, Tara stopped, almost out the door, and pointed back at her with flourish.


“Not this time… Ignus inciendre, baby.”


The spell was fast- one of the reasons they used it when on patrol. Willow only had time for her eyes to widen before the heat flashed into focus. Expecting pain, she winced, but then noticed the localization of fire that exploded beside her. With a squeak of dismay she hastily extricated herself from her satchel, which was burning merrily. The powders and supplies she had brought caught and the fire rose as she threw the bag to the floor.


“Willow!” The inevitable backup arrived. Buffy rushed into the room, scanning it for threats as she reached her friend’s side. “Where is he?”


“Gone. That way.” Willow realized her hands had been burnt as she pointed, the pain lancing through her bent fingers. When Buffy started to take off for the door, Willow caught her jacket, gasping at the pain from her palms. “Wait! It’s not him- it’s not Angel.”


The Slayer met her eyes with a look of disbelief that started the journey toward hope.


“He’s a poser, Buffy. Tara didn’t know either.” Willow felt her eyes start to tear up. Tara. I’m sorry. I’m going to save you- I just haven’t figured out how.


“Then he’s a dead poser.” It didn’t have the fire that Buffy usually possessed, but there was a finality to the statement that Willow found she could believe in.


“Just- be careful. Tara… she can still cast, and she’s not going to hold back. It won’t be tinkerbell lights.” Unspoken, was the plea. Don't kill her. Please.


The Slayer wordlessly acknowledged the warning as she left. Wincing again, Willow examined her reddened hands, little blisters already starting to rise on the worst parts. Soothing of burns- Tara had a spell for that, or was it a recipe for a cream? She’d have to look. In the mean time she directed the remaining power she’d pulled from the Hellmouth to superficial healing. The spell took an enormous amount of energy for the degree of effect that it had… true healing wasn’t possible by magical means, but the spell gave a release to the pressure of magic that Willow had called up and now had no immediate use for. Dropping that kind of a charge would do serious mystical mayhem and she couldn’t be sure what form it would take.


Healing the skin magnified the pain in her hands enough to white out her mind for a while and she found herself leaning heavily against a wall when Xander entered. The magic still swirled through her in eddies that brushed raw passages she had carved for it, whispering death and pain in the words of the books that she had consumed. It was just the dregs of what she had called up, a reminder of why her body felt leaden and her vision refused to stay focused.


Tara was gone. Her chance was gone. Buffy was after them now and the only question was who would die. Her love or her friend? It wasn’t her choice, but she felt the guilt of the decision weigh on her none the less. Her failure had made it reality. She started to feel her resolve dissolving into despair, tears spilling down her cheeks. When Xander appeared from the back of the shop, looking around carefully, she didn’t have it in her to even acknowledge him. Just stand and cry silently.


“Hey there, black eyed girl.” Xander approached warily.


“She’s gone, Xander.” Willow felt her knees start to give way and Xander’s caution disappeared as he moved to support her. “She was here. Right here. And now she’s gone. And I couldn’t do anything about it.”


“It’s not her. You know she wouldn’t do this to you.” Xander hugged her fiercely, but all Willow felt was cold.


“She left me before this happened…” Willow buried her head into his shoulder. “She says she loves me, Xander. She loves me. But I can’t save her.”


“It isn’t her. Just a demon.” Xander said again. “It’s trying to hurt you, using her face, her memories.”


“No! There's got to be a way!" Willow made an odd motion caught between clinging to her life-long friend and pushing him away. The motion set off a series of shocks that culminated in a sudden, piercing headache.


"If there is one, you'll find it. You're research-girl, remember? No fact unfound. No mystery unsolved." Xander didn't let her go. "C'mon. There's nothing else to do here."





.

[whirlwindcharmer]

I must admit I am a fan of regular updates , then again who isn't? I do read your replies, any chance to gain more insight into your characters and direction of the plot the better! Didn't see that coming, so this vamp has been playing them all this time, and had obviously been watching the slayer and her crew for awhile, Buffy's clearly off her game, letting a vamp stalk her and her friends lol. I would like to see a confrontation between Buffy and Tara, that would be an interesting fight.

[Zampsa1975]

Yay for great update-y goodness... I kinda hope that if Buffy and Tara fight Tara really kicks Buffy's ass and maybe breaks few dozen bones...

[Füchsin]

So Tara's Sire isn't Angelus - that was a big surprise for me *thumps up*
I really hope that Xander is not right. It is still Tara, isn't it?

can't wait for the next update

[NeverChosen]

Replies first:

Whirlwind- Since this isn't being written as I go (it was actually written in an exceedingly nonlinear fashion), regular updates are the least I can do. If I weren't so selfish as to be wanting to hear what people think about each bit, I could post the whole thing in one go... except for a tiny bit of the end that doesn't sound right and will be played with until the last minute.
In Buffy's defense, Tara knows the way that she patrols, the places she visits, and has been avoiding her to the best of her ability. Even Willow was only briefly watched from afar. As to PseudoAngelus... this update covers a little of where he is coming from.

Zampsa- Sorry... no big Buffy/Tara showdown. VampTara isn't all that confident in her ability to take on the Slayer head to head, so escaping seems like a more likely option. Besides, she has a manipulative sire to deal with.

Fuchsin- Xander was never big in the vampire understanding-and-analysis camp. As far as he's concerned, they are evil parasites wearing a host body- like the centipede thing in Men In Black (he might even say it that way, too). That would be the most clear cut thought process, and would also protect him from having to think about the creatures that the Scoobies kill. Imagine, for a moment, if Xander were to spend some quality time thinking about how much of Jesse was in still in the vampire that he became. He just isn't analytical enough to be prone to that kind of angst.
And I didn't answer your concern. Some answers, I think, are better determined by one's self.

Next up- a brief divergence.
-Never

[NeverChosen]

Missing


Divergent Chapter 8: Lies

Rating: R (violence)

Legal: I don't own the stories, concept, character designs, or anything else in BtVS. I own this story, but expect no financial gain from it.

Feedback: Please! Be as mean as you'd like- I take pointed criticism better than I take vague praise.

Notes: None of the Divergent chapters have been beta'd.


“You lied to me.” Tara leaned against the door frame, thoroughly pissed off. “After all the lies in my life, what do I get in death but more lies.”


“I may not be Angelus, but I will be the rebirth of the stemmed line of Aurelius.” Her sire raised his head proudly, the effect ruined by a wince as his ruined arm shifted.


“Why?”


“It was necessary. Nobody would follow Walter Butafuko the vampire. Angelus is a name that is still feared and respected- and in Santa Barbara, nobody bothered to find out that he was still souled up in LA, any more than the idiots here did. So I just played the part, rode the wave… and I was damned good at it.”


“Then why come here?”


“Somebody remembered the thing he had with the slayer. Asked why I didn’t care about torturing her any more. Kept nagging. So I’m just stirring things up a bit before I get back to my crew.”


“You turned me… to keep up a pretense?” Tara was more amused than angry.


“Like I said- it didn’t matter who. It just so happened that you were handy.” Walter caressed her cheek with his good hand. “But I think I chose well.”


Tara withdrew from his hand and his empty praise. “Don't touch me.”


“Don’t think you can tell me what to do.” Her sire growled, now grabbing her jaw as he had the night he turned her.


Tara’s eyes narrowed and grabbed his mangled arm, twisting it. Her sire dropped her with a scream of anguish. He doubled over and she swung a kick, again connecting with the ruined limb.


“Don’t ever lay your hands on me again.” She kicked him again. “Ever. Your final privilege as my sire is that I let you live tonight.”


Walter’s golden eyes burned hatred as they met hers, but he dropped his gaze first. As Tara began to turn away he launched himself at her, his speed taking her by surprise. The two hit the ground hard, with Walter’s good hand catching both of Tara’s wrists before she could react. She pulled to free herself, but the difference of strength between sire and fledge was too great. He straddled her torso and grinned at her struggles.


“So you’ll kill me? Me?” Walter scoffed. “And just how? Hmm?"


Tara stopped struggling for a moment, eyes narrowed. After the spells she’d traded with Willow earlier, this was going to hurt. “Magic.”


“Won’t work on your sire, chica. Blood of my blood, y’know.” He chortled.


The chortle died in his throat as Tara smiled viciously in return.


“Oh. Sorry- I might have… fibbed a little about that. En nomine Nyx- me excito lignum mortifera. Huius vacerra.”*


Walter screamed and let go of her as a chair exploded into pieces and shards began to impale him, one after another, never actually entering his heart. He grabbed one out of the air, swinging it down toward Tara’s chest. It never reached the mark as a burst of energy threw him violently away from her.


Tara sat up with murder in her eyes, rubbing her wrists. That last little telekinetic push had needed the help of the Hellmouth, the first taste of it she’d ever had. It wasn’t anything like she imagined, but she didn’t have time to analyze it now. Walter was picking himself up, pulling shards out of his body painfully as he did so.


“I don’t have to miss, you know.” Tara levitated one of the bloody, discarded shards back to her own hand.


“What do you want from me?” Walter hissed, dropping the last of the larger pieces.


“Just go- leave. Do your little charade somewhere else.” She needed to end this quickly, before he realized that she was running on magical fumes.


“And you’ll, what, stalk your little girlfriend and pine over her?”


“Maybe.” Tara shrugged, standing up fully. “Or just pick off her friends one by one until I’m the only one she has left to turn to.”


“Fine. Do what you want.” Walter straightened. “Just stay out of my way.”


“Gladly.”


Tara left Walter where he was and headed out into the night. Her head was starting the post-magic firework show, making her want to just curl up and sleep, but now she had a problem. Willow had recognized her sire, or more accurately, had not recognized him. She’d tell Buffy what she’d seen. No Angelus meant Buffy would have time and emotional energy to pick up the next problem. And that was likely to be Tara herself. Slayers were much more trouble than they were worth, and she wasn’t so arrogant as to take one on. Buffy had too much support, survived too much to be taken lightly.


Tara grinned to herself as she thought about her options. There were several good ones. Buffy was vulnerable where her friends were concerned. Threatening them would be counterproductive- just fuel the fire. So it had to be a distraction that hit close to home, but not too close.


I have just the thing…


---

*Translation: "In the name of Nyx, I call forth deadly wooden things! Eat stake."





.
There will be one more point of divergence before Friday's regular update.

[Zampsa1975]

Yay for great update-y goodness... I hope Tara sends Buffy to endless "Angelus" hunting tour so she can deal with Willow in peace...

[Füchsin]

Fantastic update! I really like how Tara dealt with Walter
you're right about Xander - i totaly agree! (But you know, sometimes Authors change such little things )

Can't wait for the next update...

[AmberGoddess]

I really like this fic! It's good, and different. Can't wait for more!

[NeverChosen]

Gee- folks are reading! I must be doing something right... ^_^ (Never pokes her ailing ego and tries to get it to perk up, with limited results).

Zampsa- The plan for Buffy distraction is going to be posted today, as soon as I get it formatted. Hopefully it will meet your approval.

Fuschin- Walter deserved an appropriately bloody reception. I'm glad you liked the form it took. As to changing things- I have tried to the best of my ability to keep characters as they were at this point in canon. While it would make life more linear to stick strictly to one thought process (thereby eliminating all misunderstanding and incorrect assumptions), but one of the compelling things about this cast of characters is that they don't all think the same way. I've tried to keep their internal voices as different as my poor skills can manage, without abandoning the overall narrative and emotional flow.

AmberGoddess- Thanks for reading. There's another Divergence that will be up later today.


-Never

[NeverChosen]

Missing


Divergent Chapter 9: When the Chips Are Down

Rating: R (violence/gore)

Legal: I don't own the stories, concept, character designs, or anything else in BtVS. I own this story, but expect no financial gain from it.

Feedback: Please! Be mean, be analytic, be curious- be anything but vague.

Notes: None of the Divergent chapters have been beta'd.



The cemetery was damp, evidence of the sprinkler system being used earlier to ward off the sudden Santa Ana that had blown up earlier that day. Fresh earth, wet stone, and soggy eucalyptus leaves scented the air. Tara listened carefully at the next mausoleum, confirming again that she was alone in the darkness. The last thing she needed was complications. After another minute she started moving again, passing crypt after crypt until she found the one she was looking for- neatly identified by the electrical wiring that snaked over the nearby tree limbs and disappeared into the stonework.


She collected herself outside the entrance, rechecking her bag. She'd spent the early evening preparing the plan she was about to put in motion. Everything in place, she swung the door wide and strode in without ceremony. As usual, the television provided most of the light in the room, though a blonde head blocked her view of what was on it.


“Hey Spike. How’s it hanging?” She pulled the crypt door shut securely and set down her satchel carefully beside it.


“Tara? Well, well, look who finally grew a pair.” Spike leered from his seat. “Of fangs, I mean, of course.”


“Puts things in a different perspective.” She sauntered in front of the television. It looked like old Twilight Zone episodes on.


“Lovely. Kill anyone recently?” Spike made it sound like polite conversation.


“More than you.”


Spike growled at that.


“I owe you something, by the way.” Tara turned suddenly and planted her fist squarely in Spike’s face, shattering the cartilage of his nose and sending his chair over backwards.


“Bloody Hell!!” Spike cradled his nose, trying to stop the rush of blood that was gushing from it as he stood.


“Now we’re even.” Tara licked her knuckles, but made a face at the taste. Spike grabbed the front of her shirt and shoved her back against the wall, snarling.


“What’s to stop me from killing you right now?” His words sprayed bits of his blood on her as it continued to ooze down his face.


“Golly, I forgot. Without a soul, your chip won’t go off. I’m helpless!” Tara smiled, looking infuriatingly unconcerned. “I’ll tell you why you won’t. Buffy.”


“She doesn’t take a shine to vampires.” Spike tried again.


“Especially vampires that kill her friends.” Tara’s smile didn’t waver. “So long as anyone thinks they can ‘save me’, you can’t touch me.”


Spike hammered a right cross into Tara’s face, her shirt tearing in his grip as she fell.


“Well, then we’ll have to settle for half dead.” He followed up with a savage kick to her midsection before she could start to pick herself up. “Way I see it, I beat you bloody, truss you up like a Christmas goose, give you over to her to deal with as she likes.”


Tara blocked the next kick with both arms, buying enough time to draw enough breath to speak. “Impedemente.”


Spike stumbled back slightly as the air in front of him coalesced into a solid, unyielding barrier. He rammed a fist into it, snarling. Tara took her time in standing, wiping the blood off her face.


“How about I make you an offer?” Her yellow eyes looked straight into his.


“Sorry luv, you’re not my type.” He shoved at the barrier again.


“Chip. Gone. Interested?” She melted back to her human face, but the smile was still all vamp. Spike stopped at that. He looked away, started pacing.


“I didn’t think t-this would be that hard for you.” Tara grumbled.


“What’s in it for you?” Spike turned suddenly, eyes narrowed.


“Random act of kindness?” Tara smiled again, and this time it was all kittens and sunflowers. The look faded quickly though as she chuckled at herself, “What do you care? You’d get your fangs back.”


“Just like that?”


“Oh- one restriction. Willow is hands-off.” Tara watched as Spike started to form a snarky retort. “If you do anything to her, I will hunt you down and your life will get a whole lot more hellish than it is now.”


“Think you can control me?” Spike pulled the move that Tara had always associated with roosters: puffing his chest out and making a little lunge forward, chin thrust forward and hands spread slightly away from his sides. Macho posturing. It looked silly on a rooster, let alone a skinny bleach blonde vampire.


“Wouldn’t dream of it. Like I said- hands off what’s mine and you get your freedom.” She congratulated herself on not giggling. Rooster.


“That’s all?”


“That’s the deal. You’re free to do what you want and who you want, except Willow.” Tara crossed her arms. “If you decide to go back on your word, I will find you. I will castrate you. I will cut out your lying tongue. And maybe your nose for good measure.”


“And then my ears, I suppose?” Spike sneered.


It was there. The perfect setup. Tara couldn’t stop herself. “Wrong! Your ears you keep, and I'll tell you why; so that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness is yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman that cries out, 'dear god what is that thing!' will echo in your Perfect Ears.”


There was a pause as Tara tried to keep looking threatening and Spike processed the strangely familiar words.


“Good movie, that.” The two vampires shared a moment of affable companionship over the magical barrier before getting back to business.


“So all I have to do is leave the geek alone. No stupid missions or errands? No calling in favors? No curses I get to find out about later?”


“Too complicated. The more complicated something is, the more things can go wrong.” Tara shook her head, not yet letting the barrier down despite the ache that was beginning to develop between her eyes. “I just want you doing what you do best.”


“And Buffy?”


“What about her?”


“If I kill her, your bird will be in a world of hurt. What happens to me then?”

“I tell her that’s what happens to Slayers eventually, that she was stupid to think you were tamed, and proceed to… comfort her.”


“And then the witch who managed to put the hurt on a bloody Hell goddess comes after me. And according to you, I can’t lay a finger on her.” He pointed at her accusingly.


“You sound like you’re trying really hard to hold on to that chip. I guess it grew on you.” Tara rolled her eyes, despite the twinge it set off in her head. She was going to have to drop the shield soon, but Spike hadn’t agreed yet and there was nothing to stop him from making good on his earlier threats if she let him. Spike was just staring at her, and she imagined she could see the gears in his brain chugging slowly. Willow’s brain-gears never chugged. They whirled, which is probably why there was such a disaster when they got off kilter. She found herself smirking at the thought, then caught herself as the shield wavered with her loss of concentration.


“Take the chip. I’ll leave your girl alone.” Spike was suddenly calm, serious, and sounding almost… guilty? He looked away quickly from her searching eyes and started rooting in his pockets for another cigarette. “How do we do this thing?”


“I’ve got everything I need right here.” Tara picked up her satchel, which was clearly carrying something heavy.


“Here? Now?” Spike looked stunned.


“It’s a-actually really easy.” Tara shrugged and with enormous relief, dropped the magical barrier she’d been holding. The headache remained, but she didn’t need to worry about it. She wasn’t intending to do any more casting tonight. Now she just had set things in motion before Spike got it into his pretty little head to double-cross her.


“Magic brain surgery- who knew there were spells for that. Huh.” Spike bent to turn off the television.


“Something like that.”


“So what do I do?” He looked curiously at the bag. “You got a magic rattle or some drivel I have to say?”


“Here- hold this.” Tara ignored the jibes and pulled a large earthenware bowl from her satchel. As Spike held it she poured in a measure of what looked like tea from a thermos into it. “Turn to face north. Make sure you don’t spill any of that.”


“Now what?” He looked back over his shoulder as she delved back into her bag.


“You just stand there and-“ Tara raised a sawed off shotgun faster than Spike could react, planting the barrel above his ear. “Trust me.” She pulled the trigger. Brain matter, blood, skull fragments exploded in every direction. The sound reverberated in her head, ears ringing in the aftermath of the shock.


Tara looked at her cloths in disgust. She’d expected messy- shotguns were always messy. But she should’ve stood back further. She tossed the shotgun aside. Buffy was right about one thing. Guns- they never led to anything good. Couldn’t kill a vampire with one without considerable effort, made too much noise unless you were underground or in a crypt like this one, and then there was the mess. Still, it had served its purpose and she was glad she’d had the forethought to bring her father’s gun back with her to Sunnydale.


She’d wondered if guns could kill Slayers, but decided it was too dangerous. Her aim wasn’t that good and sawing off the barrel of a shotgun for concealment had destroyed its accuracy. She’d have to be as close to the Slayer as she had been to Spike to be sure to hit her squarely. Tara had even hedged her bets there, keeping his hands busy so he’d be less able to react, turning him so she had longer to bring the gun up.


Speaking of Spike… she nudged him with a toe. He looked very dead, but she knew better. There was a reason she’d aimed so high on his head- severing the spinal cord would kill him in a dusty way, and he was far more useful undead. So she’d just blown off most of his left parietal lobe. He’d wake up eventually, probably mad as hell.


She crouched down and started poking through the ruin of his head. Hair. Brain. Goo. Eww. Bone bits. More goo. She felt around a bit before hitting something thin and hard. Something different from the bone shards. She pulled it out, flicking bits of grey matter off of it. Ta-da. One chip. She pinched it, crushing it between her fingers. It broke in a disappointing manner. She’d expected a puff of smoke or a spark or something, but it just snapped.


Tara shoveled all the tissue she could find back into Spike’s head, then meticulously cleaned her fingers on his shirt. She stood and smiled. He would have one hell of headache when he finally woke up, but then the fun would start. That should keep Buffy off her back for a while.


Now all that was left was to prepare for her next date with Willow.




.
There are no further divergent chapters. The regular storyline will be posted as usual on Friday.

-Never

[AmberGoddess]

Oh... Ew... That's disgusting.... Gotta say though, liking this Tara. All confident and, um, strong? The brain thing is just no though. That's gross. Can't wait for more updates!

[Zampsa1975]

Yay for good update-y goodness... Tara's method of dechipping Spike was really messy... I guess Spike would have a really nice headache when he wakes up, and be very very pissed at Tara... Can't wait what Tara has in store for Willow...

[Vamp_Willz]

Well...
Thats one way to get the chip out.
Very original too!
*laughs softly*
She shot Spike
...


~J

[perchiper]

Ewwwwwwww and Ouch!

Spells your foot, you bint! At last, that would be the most polite message from Spikey.

Love this kind of Tara

Tara no soul vs. Tara with soul

Vote everyone?

[NeverChosen]

Hnnn. So blowing off part of Spike's head gets me more feedback... ^_^ Gotta remember that. Gore-porn sells.


AmberGoddess- While the vampire is certainly more confident than the human was, she is still monumentally careful. Calculating, even. The method of the chip extraction just made sense to me. It's so quick and practical!

Zampsa- Everyone seems stuck on the gross-out factor. And yet Donny's partial flaying got nary a word. -_-; Anyway, I'm not sure just how the whole healing head thing would work, as it is one of those mortal wounds to the not-dead-to-begin-with, but I imagine the headache would be pretty spectacular. If I were Spike, I might be upset, but I'd also be very leery of running off after the person who did that to me.

VampWillz- I'm glad you appreciate it. The method seemed to make so much more sense than careful brain surgery, when you consider that the guy can heal from just about anything. This way he's also out of commission long enough for Tara to get away... she knows very well that once he has what he wants there is no reason for him not to make good on his threats to beat her to a pulp and hand her over to Buffy.

perchiper- Vote away! We'll tally them up when the fic ends. I should come up with some kind of prize for the winning Tara. Hmm- I'll think on it. I'm kinda curious though- what is it about my vampTara that is appealing? Is it just that she is getting to thrash some folks that had it coming? Or is it something else? I haven't exactly been touting her as a sympathetic character, though I've been trying my darndest to keep her in believable degree of Tara-ness.


To all those disturbed by scenes like in the last one- they exist only in the Divergent Chapters, and there will be no further divergences from this point. So those who aren't big on the ick factor should read with the assurance than anything gross will now be off screen.

-Never

[NeverChosen]

Missing


Ch 9: Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way

Legal: I don't own the stories, concept, characters, or anything else in BtVS. I own this story, but expect no financial gain from it.

Rating: PG-13 (angst only)

Summary: Willow returns to the Magic Box in defeat. Research commences. A plan is made.

Notes: This is probably my least polished chapter. The POVs are muddy, the pacing is stilted, and I'm just not happy. I chose to post it, though, as I can't guarantee that delaying would improve it.


Willow sat in the Magic Box with her knees drawn up to her chest. She wasn’t sure why she wasn’t hysterical right now, but somehow her mind was remarkably blank. She’d failed. Tara had been right there in front of her, the bastard that turned her had been right there, and she’d failed. Almost six years of vampire fighting experience and some very naughty stolen mojo and what good did it do? Tara was still dead, soulless, and evil. He-who-was-not-Angelus was still out playing master vamp. Minions were gone, but minions would be replaced in a matter of days. Or worse, he could leave, taking Tara with him.


There was a chance that she wouldn't go. Demons were not really inclined toward obedience unless under some coercion to do so. Tara had been upset enough with her sire that she might not go with him if he ran for the hills. If she felt that she still had reason to stay… She still wasn't sure how to wrap her head around that. The vampire had held onto something in Tara's experiences that made it want Willow. The vampire called it love, but how did it define that particular concept? How much of Tara remained?


Buffy's search had turned up nothing. It was a mixed blessing- no dusty Tara, but on the down side, no dusty Angelus. She was still out, scouring the night, but the likelihood of finding either of them at this point was too small to consider.


Willow had been in no condition to refuse when Xander had taken them back to the Magic Box. If she was entirely honest, calling herself a basket case would have been charitable. She had physical pain, mental pain, emotional pain, and to top it all, the awareness of her failure. That for all that she'd done, it hadn't been enough.


Willow had braced for another fight when she saw Giles and Anya standing tensely in the shop, waiting. She'd stopped just inside the door, unwilling to step forward into the waiting maelstrom of repudiation. There was nothing they could say that would make the situation better, nothing she could tell them that would change what they chose to see. So she hesitated, eyes fixed somewhere as she looked inward for how to proceed.


Xander had filled them in on what had happened and Giles abandoned his post for the hotpot, the excuse of making tea an easy delay for the speech to come. Willow had followed without thinking when Xander guided her to the research table. If she thought about it, she'd remember him saying he was going to check on Dawn and see if Buffy got back safe. That would have required more presence of mind than she could muster at the moment.


Anya produced some sort of vile smelling balm for her hands with a stern warning not to touch the merchandise till she washed it off. As she applied it mechanically, Giles had returned with his well-worn tea cups and dented kettle. His disapproval was palpable, but Willow couldn't find it in herself to care. There was nothing he could say that could compare to the devastation in her heart and mind.


When Giles poured the tea, it was for three. It heralded the beginning of the Talk. Oh goody. Now for the speech where Willow mends her ways and follows the party line. Willow stared wordlessly as Giles as he sat down, paying little mind to Anya as she did the same.


“I know you aren’t going to give up on this Willow.” Giles said quietly, not meeting her eyes.


“I can’t give up. And if you are going to try to stop me-“


“Actually, we thought we could help.” Anya said with eyebrows raised appraisingly. “But by all means, freeze us in place and pretend you are all alone in being hurt and afraid.”


“Huh?” Willow said intelligently.


“While I can’t approve of what you are trying to do and I think you are going to be disappointed, Anya brought up a salient point while you were all out.” Giles sat down heavily. “We need your help and you need ours. Even if our goals at this moment are different, there is nothing to be gained by working at odds. Though we will be having words when this is through.”


Willow didn't answer immediately. In contrast to the arguments and scenarios that had been playing over each other in her mind, all she had was a full stop. A big blank that should have been filled with pointed accusation, defensive retort, and escalating turmoil. She didn't know what to do with this, how to respond.


"The creature standing in as Angelus needs to be stopped. He is too organized to leave loose. If you can help us find him, we'll try to find something to help with… with Tara." Giles looked away, but his eyes betrayed his lack of confidence.


"I can cast a tracer but if they've set another interference spell it won't be that simple." Willow shook her head. Sticking to the mechanics allowed her a slight reprieve from emotion. "I got around it once, but… I don't even know how to define him for the spell."


"I feared that was the case." Giles headed for the bookshelf. "Do you think they will stay together?"


"I don't know. She was pretty upset about him not being who he said." Willow braced her forehead in her hands. "She looks like Tara, but she isn't… and then she is, just enough to make it hard… I should know what she'd do, but then-"


"Then you realize she's killing people and how that's not too Tara-like?" Anya said with supreme sympathy. Sympathy? Or was it sarcasm? Or simple statement of fact? Willow found she had no adequate response, save one.


"She says she loves me."


"Vampires can be both cruel and cunning-" Giles started to give his two cents, only to be drowned out by Anya.


"Well yes, you don't need a soul to feel love. It's not some mortal monopoly. It doesn't really mean the same thing, though. It's based in self-gratification and-" Anya started to shift into lecture mode.


"I know. I know. It's not the same thing. But it is something, and I don't think she understands any more than I do." Willow shook her head. "Look. That's not the problem. The longer Tara is out there, the harder it is going to be for her when she's herself again. I- We need to do something. Now."


“You said Tara was prepared for everything you tried.” Giles noted.


“Everything.” Willow felt her eyes start to brim. “She’s already locked her soul somehow- I can’t even get a spell to contact it or show it ever existed, let alone try to put it back in her.”


“Angel’s curse isn’t a good long term solution, but it would buy us time. She might be able to help us find the answer herself.” Giles suggested, “If I could locate another Orb of Thesula…”


“I could only find one, in Cathay. I summoned it here, but it shattered as soon as it was corporeal.” Willow shook her head.


“So that's what happened to the last one we ordered… it arrived a few days ago in pieces." Giles made the connection. "It’s probably a localized resonance spell- without finding the focus she used, we can’t counter that.”


“Doing an astral survey could expose some of the spells she’s laid.” Anya suggested. "Then you'd catch some of the less localized ones than the Tirere la Couture."


“I did that.” The tone hovered between flat and irritated.


“Without an anchor?” Giles gave Willow a look that was typically reserved for people who enjoy a rousing game of Russian Roulette.


"Who was I supposed to go to?!" She snapped back at him. She saw Giles wince away as if it were a physical blow and couldn't find it in herself to feel guilty.


"Look- I'm tired and I wouldn't trust the accuracy of any tracer I did right now. I'm going home for a couple of hours. OK?" More to the point, she couldn't concentrate through the cascade of despair that compounded the physical backlash of the magic she had already forced through herself.


Giles searched her face for a moment before nodding. "I'll see if we can make any headway in the meantime."


-----


Willow struggled with the doorknob of the Summers' house, the combined sliminess of the cream on her hands and the white hot pain that any pressure sent through her hands making the simple task an ordeal. The dark windows had allowed her the hope that no one was awake, but instead she found a morose Slayer seated in the dark living room. Buffy barely acknowledged her presence, but as Willow started up the stairs she heard her speak.


"It wasn't him." It wasn't a question. Willow could hear the faint relief coupled with an emotional exhaustion that echoed her own.


"No." As quietly as she said it, she knew Buffy would hear. She waited as the silence stretched out through the dark hall.


This seemed all the conversation Buffy wanted to have, so Willow made her way upstairs and collapsed onto the bed. Their bed. Would it ever be their bed again? Their room? She was too exhausted to even muse over it. All she could do was grieve and hate herself for doing so. To grieve was to give up.


While giving up was not an option, the problem was not one that just needed a little research to crack. It would take a miracle. They had learned a lot in the years since Angel's soul had been recovered, but there was no hint of anything reproducing what had been done to him. Even the dark books she still had running through her head had only half-answers. A soul trapped in a crystal. A soul tied to a doll or a puppet, like that weirdo demon-hunter they'd met in high school. But never a soul returned to its dead host.


Buffy had said she was in heaven. Did that make Christianity right? Not that Buffy was much of a Christian- it was just her cultural frame of reference. She didn't know a different way to describe it. What if Tara's soul were there? What would she say? Summerlands or something? Did Tara even believe in that? Willow wished she knew. Their Wicca talks had never really dwelled on religion. Just practice.


And if mom and dad were right? Then what? The Torah was remarkably bereft of explanation of life after death. It said there was one. It said you should do good things and that good people were rewarded. It was just a bit vague on the how. Then there was the Talmud, which said something about souls getting reunited with their bodies when the Messiah came. Which is not really a viable solution, Willow thought darkly. Sleep deprivation might be creative, but it wasn't conducive to practical thinking- multiple apocolipti had taught all the Scoobies that.


Setting the alarm clock for an hour and a half the witch dropped onto the bed, not bothering to even take off her shoes. It should be enough to dull the headache, and hopefully enough to allow insight.


---


Sixteen hours.


It had been sixteen hours since she'd last seen Tara. Willow rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. It felt like she'd been running sandpaper over them. She should have spent every one of those hours here in the Magic Box. Her stupid body had betrayed her, ignoring the whine of her alarm clock for over an hour before she finally roused from a strange dream about the La Brea Tar Pits and foxes. Another hour wasted. When she got up Willow had immediately fallen to the floor, vertigo claiming her. Another twenty minutes was lost then to food and water; maintenance of the body that was refusing to cooperate.


Once back in the Magic Box it was better. Xander had dropped off doughnuts in the morning and rejoined them after work. Anya kept a steady supply of coffee. Giles was researching with her, but at the moment that was more an irritation than assistance. His very presence was a reminder of what she had done to him. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. The fact that the dark texts were still missing had not been brought up. To someone on the outside, it probably looked like business as usual.


But it wasn't. Even the notoriously oblivious ex-demon could see it.


Anya eyed the mess on the table- a mix of doughnuts crumbs, venerable tomes, and scattered papers. It did not project a professional work environment and there was no sign of anyone cleaning up anytime soon. She wasn't going to push, not when everyone was so tense that they seemed to be just waiting for the wrong word to take out their personal issues on an innocent bystander.


It couldn't be said that progress had not been made. It had. A huge list of possible solutions had been systematically eliminated. After dropping a none-too-subtle hint about the possibility that this was all futile Xander had been sent out for dinner. That was probably best. If Willow was currently as unstable as she seemed, keeping Xander out of her way was probably wise. Anya herself had been happy to have running the shop as an excuse to be elsewhere. And offering coffee couldn't hurt- Willow liked coffee. She was less irritable when caffeinated.


Anya considered the situation. If it were Xander who turned up as a vampire, she was fairly sure what she would do. She would go to Willow and demand that she fix him. Seeing her floundering like this was… disheartening.


It was too bad about Tara. She was nice. She didn't get snippy when Anya said her mind. And she was probably the only person, Xander included, who knew that half of the time Anya was perfectly aware that what she was saying was inappropriate. And she accepted that. It was almost irritating how generically nice she was. Except the part where the niceness kinda made it hard to be irritated. Which was irritating in and of itself…


It made visualizing her as a vampire exceedingly difficult. Willow was easy- they'd seen her as a vampire. She'd just been an exaggeration of her less sterling qualities, with a healthy dose of sex on top. Xander would probably be the same. Tara's failings were all too mousy to assign to a vampire. She was just… nice. Asking Willow would clear it up, but that would be unwise. She'd probably miss that it was a valid, potentially useful inquiry and take it as some sort of affront. Anya shrugged mentally.


A break in the marathon of studying came when Xander returned, the bell over breaking everyone's concentration less than the smell of MSG the accompanied him. Anya favored him with a peck on the cheek and watched carefully to see how the distraction would go over. She needn't have worried- even Willow seemed susceptible to the lure of Lucky Garden Wok and was abandoning her task.


"I figured out how to get around the block she put on her soul." Willow dropped her head with a sigh. "For all the good that does. It still won't stick to the vampire. Not without another spell to anchor it."


"So… why not use'm both?" Xander was pushing over a boxes of Chinese takeout. "Like if you want mocha, you gotta use both the chocolate and the coffee."


"Interactions. Spells have very defined effects- the thing that makes designing them so difficult is that variation introduces instability." Giles waved it away with the chopsticks he had procured.


"Like instead of coffee and chocolate, you mixed ammonia and bleach." Anya added. "Or Mentos and Diet Coke."


"Wait." Willow stood suddenly. "Wait-wait-wait. What were you saying?"


"Um. Similar mystic resonances create-" Giles began again.


"No- Anya." Willow pointed at her with a bright pink pen. Anya tilted her head curiously. Since when did Willow listen to her?


"Don't mix Mentos and Diet Coke?"


"Yes." Willow turned to Giles, pen going behind her ear. "Chemical mixes blow up, household cleaners make nasty gases. But what about Coke and ammonia? Coffee and Mentos?"


"I don't follow."


"That's because she isn't making sense." Anya waved her chopsticks.


"Different traditions shouldn't interact." Willow started pulling books, nearly upsetting the Kung Pao. "They're on different wavelengths."


The witch was starting to buzz in that way that she did when she was doing brainy things that finally came together. It wasn't the triumphant happy buzz, more just a general 'finally I have something to work on' buzz. Which is probably what she did when she came into the Magic Box and assaulted Giles. Anya shifted nervously. "She's getting excited. Is that a good thing or not?"


"Good. Very good." Willow wasn't even looking at them, but started shuffling pages madly. Another pen was selected and started flying. "There are dozens of spells for manipulation of the soul coming from just about every culture out there. Binding, contacting, tapping the energy of them- it's all over. I should be able to find one that won't interfere with the second spell."


"A second spell to produce a usable form." Giles began to catch on.


"So you'd make a TaraBot, but a magic one. Then attach her soul to it?" Xander asked carefully.


"That still wouldn't have her memories… it wouldn't be her." Willow shook her head. "What I need is to change the vampire into the vessel."


That stopped all conversation. Anya thought for a moment. It was plausible. Inventive, even. But it begged the question;


"Can you do that?"


Willow deflated. The buzzing stopped, but now there was that defeated look again. It was much more unpleasant. "I don't know. Do you have a better idea?"


The silence returned. Anya looked around. This was not brainstorming. This was ridiculous attempts to not upset Willow and still look like they were helping.


"Well… you said Tara was blocking you. So, what do you know that she doesn't?" Anya decided it was better risk danger now, rather than during the eventual meltdown. Willow winced.


"Yeah. I mean- you're research girl here. You always did more of the magic than, uh, Tara did-" Xander must have noticed the wince, but he was catching on. Anya patted him encouragingly. Coddling Willow was not going to help her.


"I was the do-er. But she was the one who knew more." Willow's face started to crumble and she slid back down to her seat. It was strange to watch the changes on her face. Everyone else seemed to hide so much, but Willow was easy.


"You were learning magic before you met, though. Surely there is something…" Giles didn't sound particularly hopeful.


"I did levitation on pencils, Giles. A-and when I finally found someone to do magic with, I didn't exactly keep quiet about what I'd studied."


"Well, what about Kabalism?" Anya asked. "You sort of jumped on the Wicca bandwagon- did you ever talk about that?"


"Cannibalism?" Xander asked, looking at Willow in a slightly leery fashion.


"Kabalism. Jewish fairy tale hocus pocus." Willow started to wave it off, but then she looked up when Anya snorted. "Not hocus pocus?"


"What, you think magic is in every other culture, but the Jews get gyped?" Anya said incredulously. "What kind of witch are you?"


"Giles?" Willow looked to the Watcher as if the revelation were painful.


"Well, it does exist." Giles confirmed.


"Of course it exists." Anya replied, indignant that it needed confirming. "I can't believe a Jewish witch knows nothing about Jewish magic."


"I wasn't really doing magic then… I…" Willow was focusing on something no one else could see, her eyes moving as if reading something in the recesses of her mind. "I mean, yeah, read what they told me to read, did the Bat Mitzvah, and kinda dropped everything after that…"


"So we have something Tara might not know to guard against." Giles pulled off his glasses. "That doesn't necessarily mean that it provides an actual solution."


"Do we have anything kabal-like?" Xander asked.


"Kaballic. Ahhh. No." Giles replied quietly, in obvious embarrassment.


"We will." Willow replied, even more quietly.


"I can call a few sources- we should have enough to find out if there's any point in following that line of thought." Giles was back to rubbing his forehead.


"Too slow." Willow pulled out her laptop, pushing aside the books in front of her to set it down. Without stopping to flip it open sunk her hand into the plastic, a faint glow rising from where they met. Her eyes fogged as a look of concentration fell over her.


"Now that- that is creepy." Xander got up and started pacing.


"The Sepher ha-Mashiv. Do you have it?" She sounded distant, despite sitting right in front of them. Pulling back her hand she refocused on the room, blinking a few times as if readjusting to the light.


"The what?" Giles looked quite perplexed.


"Sepher ha-Mashiv. Spanish, 15th century. Jewish mysticism. Not exactly sanctioned reading at the time…" Willow searched the Watcher for any trace of recognition.


"Oh. Yes." Giles still looked like he was drawing a blank. "Not in the current collection, I don't think."


"Do you know where to find it?"


"Let me call a few people." Giles disappeared into the back.


The search continued for perhaps a day after that. Once the book was located Willow wasted no time in summoning it to her in an act that left the shop stinking of ozone. Giles had finally broken from silent disapproval at this point, railing at her about responsibility as she listened. The first time he had made that speech- the night he had returned from England- Willow knew she had responded badly. She remembered threatening him, only to back away from her own words and spend the next week wondering what exactly had inspired that particularly uncharacteristic reaction.


Was it so uncharacteristic? She wasn't sure. Not anymore, after she had made good on that threat. She knew that casting the spell on Giles had been wrong. He might not be arguing that point now, but it was the same issue. She knew stealing the book in front of her was wrong, yet she had done it anyway. But what other choice was there?


So she acknowledged that the move was irresponsible- that he was right.


Completely, utterly right.


But a vampire would feed every night, and three days for expedited shipping would leave a minimum of three people dead. Did he care to take responsibility for that?


The result had been an impasse. The only solution he could propose was the one she would not tolerate. So Giles had left her to her own work, disavowing any part in what she was doing. Like so many other problems, they would have to deal with it in time. Time that could not be spared now.


Despite frantic efforts on her part, pinpointing the passages of the Sepher ha-Mashiv took another thirteen hours. Exhaustion, frustration, and a barely concealled desperation built steadily in Willow, each taking their toll. She had stopped thinking in days, which implied discrete times of waking and rest. Time was in hours, each continuous and contiguous with the next. Every moment she took away from the problem was another nail in Tara's empty coffin… but every time she found her hands shaking, eyes blurring, mind wandering toward the blank solace of sleep, she knew she couldn't keep it up.


Luckily, she didn't have to. Once the spells were chosen, Willow did the groundwork of meshing them together within the hour. The devil was in the details, as always, but by nightfall she had something workable in front of her. At least, it seemed workable. Looking at the pages in front of her, Willow realized that Giles' absence was probably for the best. He would read it, ask the questions that anyone with half a brain would ask. He would refuse to let her go through with it. And when she did it anyway… another rift to be mended.


Willow listed the components of the spell that needed, thankful that none were quite as dubious as Buffy's resurrection had required. She glanced at the clock, realizing that it had been a long time since there had been any noise in the shop around her. Three am. Of what day? I don't even know anymore. She stood unsteadily and headed to the back room. Just collect what's needed. Then sleep, as long as I have to. Recheck everything… there can be no mistakes from here.


A noise from the back room put Willow on immediate guard. As lost in her work as she'd been over the last few days, a herd of rhinos could have been making their home in back for all she knew. At this time of night though?


Flicking on the light switch with her mind was easy enough, long familiarity with its location substituting for the usually required line of sight. The resulting exclamation of annoyance identified the intruder.


"Spike." Willow went down the stairs slowly. "What are you doing here?"


The vampire in question was slouched against the back wall, shading his eyes against the light. "Headache. Easier comin here than knocking over a convenience store."


"Tried to hit somebody again?" When Willow saw the problem she regretted the sarcasm. It was hard to tell what had happened or when it had occurred, but the side of Spike's head was a mass of healing scar tissue. The kind you'd never see on a human because they would never have survived the injury. "What happened to you?"


"Your bird happened." He snarled.


Tara. Willow's chest constricted. Spike had found her. Dark words sang in her memory and the energy of the Hellmouth started to rise to her in response. "What did you do to her?!"


"To her?! She got the drop on me, alright? Never even saw it coming." Spike winced at his own outburst, the effort seeming to have cost him.


"Do you know where she is now?" Willow pressed, trying to quiet the forces within herself.


"I'm fine, thanks for asking." Spike grumbled. He started flipping things around on the shelves, looking for whatever had brought him there originally.


"Spike…" She didn't have the energy to threaten him. Not without breaking out of the careful cocoon that was reforming around her sleep-deprived emotions.


"No." He produced a handful of leaves and sniffed them suspiciously.


There was nothing more to say then. Willow picked up a discarded cardboard box and began dropping items from the list into it. After a time Spike seemed to be tired of being ignored.


"Think you can do it?" There was no question what the vampire meant. He was sucking on one of the leaves now as he watched her work.


"I have to." It was the only answer she had.


“You realize, even with a shiny happy soul, she’ll still be a vampire.” He looked more concerned than cross, despite the contempt that he laced through his words.


“We can get blood bags for her the same as we did for Angel. Or you, for that matter.” Finding the dark brown jar she was looking for, Willow transferred it to the pile of items she had been assembling. She tried to keep her mind on the task at hand. Spell for Tara. Bring her back. Back as a being who could love, and not hate herself for loving.


“That’s not what I mean. She may not quite be… the same. Y’know. Not the whole gloomy ‘woe is me’ thing that Peaches loves so much. But she’ll still have the demon in there. And it will change things, Red, believe me.” He challenged, trying to get in the way and force Willow to face him.


“We’ll deal with that. Together.” She replied in quiet desperation. Willow wanted to believe that, trying passionately to scrunch down the doubts that Spike was so adeptly calling to the surface. She kept gathering materials, never meeting his gaze. The soul had to make the difference. Look at how different Angel was from Angelus.


“You’ll ‘ave to.” Spike snorted, losing patience and turning to leave. He spared one glance back at the witch, bent at her task, so obviously avoiding thinking about the future. With a stubborn growl he took one last go at it.


“You’re being so bloody selfish. You shove a soul into her and she’s going to hate you for it. She’s going to torture herself into madness and you’re going to end up watching her do it. You think you can do that to her? You think that’s love?”


Willow started to feel her anger boil up through that numbness that had been her shield. Spike seemed to notice her losing patience, the green fading from her eyes, continuing quickly. Perhaps he had some clue just how close she was to making him vacuum-worthy.


“Fledglings are real babies. Peckish all the time, can’t control their instincts worth a damn. Think about it, Red. Peaches has problems with keeping his demon down, and he’s a two century old master vampire. He had a lifetime of torture to mellow him out. Do you really think your bird is going to fare as well?”


“Then help me. Help her… when I bring her back.” Willow felt her emotional whirlwind calm as she spoke, evening to be as steady as the exterior she was trying to maintain. The numbness was reasserting itself. None of what he said mattered. None of it. “I have to do this, Spike. If I don’t, knowing that I could have…” The forced steadiness in her voice started to waver.


“Well, when you feel like hearing the big ‘I told you so’, just give me a shout. You know where to find me.” Spike glared in her direction one last time before flouncing out.


Willow was grateful that he left. What did he know about this, anyway? He was all lovey-dovey over Buffy- shouldn’t he understand why she needed to help Tara? No matter what the odds? Wouldn’t he have done it for Drusilla? Then again, could it be jealousy for what she was trying to do? No- Spike would rather get dusted then end up with a soul. Unless he understood, how having a soul was the only way he could ever get close to Buffy. How, no matter how she loved Tara, that thing without a soul was worse than no Tara at all. Tears were starting to gather in her eyes. No Tara at all? She couldn’t even imagine it anymore. That’s why this had to work. There was simply no alternative.



---


Everyone was in attendance, arrayed around the great table of the Magic Box. Willow stood in front of them, a pile of mystical miscellanea before her. There could be no more preparation. It was Friday afternoon now- the chance had to be taken now or wait for another seven days at least.


"It's time." She looked to Buffy, who said nothing. Willow wished she had the Slayer's gift for pep talks, some way of making everyone understand why this is how it had to be. But she didn't. All she had was determination to see it through.


Anya was her second in the location spell. Willow incanted the words and the sands were scattered, lighting as they did. The map was awash in a pale glow, almost uniform over the city.


"Here. Here." She dropped the spell and quickly marked with her Sharpie. "It's the only two places with no activity."


She'd explained the solution she'd figured out for the block on locating either Tara or the vampires she protected. Instead of searching for them, she'd cast the spell to locate the Hellmouth's ambient energy. Everywhere that wasn't blocked had nicely lit up. It was the places of absence that showed where the spell was interfered with. It was the concept of negative space, applied.


"Crypt on the west side, house near the hills." Xander looked quickly. "How do we know who is who?"


"I know." Willow answered with simple, absolute certainty. If they had broken up, there was no way Tara would go for a graveyard. "Go for the crypt. I'll go to her."


"Are you sure this is-" Giles started.


"I have to do this." Willow met his eyes and he trailed off.


"Arm up and head out." Buffy took over before the discussion could begin again. Once Willow had mapped out her spells, she had explained what they would do. No one had been happy when she had revealed that she intended to take on Tara alone. That Buffy would hunt the vampire who had used Angel's name was a given. That Willow didn't trust Xander or Giles not to try to destroy Tara if she led them to her- the meaning had been plain, even if it had taken the better part of an hour before Anya pointed out the unspoken issue. Willow hadn't denied it. Giles hadn't denied it. Xander had denied it… poorly. The fragile truce had nearly broken at that point. Their words were stemmed only by slow realization that she would be doing what she said, regardless of their actions.


"We don't know how many vamps will be with him- he's had time, it could be a lot." Willow pulled on her jacket, refusing to look at any of them now. Her voice sounded like she was already in pain over what was to come. "Stay safe."


Xander pulled an axe over his shoulder and shouldered past her in stony silence.


"Will." Buffy stopped as the group began to split off. Willow paused, meeting her eyes. She was surprised to see them shining in unshed tears. "Just… remember the first rule, OK?"


"I know…" Willow found herself tearing up as well. "Don't die."




.

[Zampsa1975]

Yay for great update-y goodness... If Willow's spell work I don't think Tara would be too happy about having her soul stuffed back into her... I hope Willow then can somehow help Tara deal with being vampire with a soul...

[AmberGoddess]

Update! Yay! I'm worried about how Willow seems to be on the border between good and evil. It's splitting the Scoobies! It almost seems like it'd be better for everyone if Tara doesn't get souled and Willow stays with her. Be interesting, at least.

[NeverChosen]

Tuesday night- the perfect time for replies.

Zampsa- Well, things can go two ways here. A) Willow comes to terms with vampTara. B)The spell works and Tara gets to deal with her vampy memories. Either way, I think it is the journey that counts.

AmberGoddess- Willow really doesn't come off too well, does she... but her logic is sound. At least within her own mindset. On the other hand, vampTara is not exactly ideal relationship material for someone with any sense of morals. You'll see how I decided to take it.
I think there is another fic out there with a vampTara and Willow together, living in that gaping grey zone between the good guys and the bad guys, but I don't recall the name off-hand. I wouldn't take it the same way that that author did, regardless.

-Never

[AmberGoddess]

Yeah, I read that one. It was good, but I like yours better

[Morrigan]

I like this. Nice and dark.

The difference between the 'polished chapters' and this latest one is far less obvious than you made it sound. What you referred to as its 'stilted' quality to me rendered more acurately the way time seems to jerk and shift when one is seriously sleep-deprived and grieving.

I very much like the idea that magic from different cultures works on different frequencies. That's a good explanation for Will finding a possible solution.

I also like the notion that though Tara's soul may be restored, the demon will still be present. It harkens ironically back to Tara's upbringing, and I think actually gives hope to the relationship between the two. Tara with a demon will be no-one's doormat, and that strngth will be needed to bring Will back from the 'ends justify the means' mindset she is in now. Tara with a soul AND a spine...good combo, even if it means more angst before the happy denoument.

This is good work, a good read,