A/N: I have a confession to make, I hate leaving things unfinished. Requesting to have VR II taken off the boards was a decision I made when I felt like I couldn't finish it, consequently these characters that mean so much to me were left sitting on my harddrive, stuck in hiatus. A few months ago I started tinkering around with those chapters - editing, a bit of re-writing, re-vamping (no pun intended) and toying with the idea that I may actually be at a point where I could re-post it...

I'm just going to shut-up now and re-post the damn story so y'all can read it

Title: Van Rosenberg II – Lord of Ice and Shadow
Author: Alcy
Rating: R for supernatural violence, bad (sometimes very bad) language and hot, gay lovin’
Disclaimers: I don’t own any of the Buffy, Tomb Raider or Dracula characters. This fic is of course AU so no spoilers for any season.
Distribution: This is a DCP only special edition – nowhere else please. I may eventually put it in my fanfiction page.
Pairing: Willow/Tara
Summary: The year is 1898 and after the hectic events of the previous year, Willow Van Rosenberg is under the impression that she has earned a quiet life at Gordon Square, reading books, drinking tea and making love to her beloved Tara. Unfortunately she’s out of tea, her relationship with Tara is strained and there’s a new evil stirring in the world that will ultimately dash any hope of an early retirement.
The quest for answers will take Willow and Tara from the British Museum, to Croft Manor and the icy wastes of the Arctic. It will be a journey of epic thrills and adventures with some old friends and a few new ones.
Notes: This story is the sequel to Van Rosenberg, I highly recommend reading it first as this story follows directly from that one.
Feedback: Yes please



The house at Gordon Square seemed to dominate the sheltered street. This was not due to its size – although it was very large indeed – but rather to its very nature. If ever an individual laboured under the mistaken impression that a mere building could not have an emotional presence, Gordon Square would soon convince them otherwise. Unlike the white-grey Portland limestone of its nearest neighbours, the house was constructed using a dark grey slate that appeared almost black, even in the weak, late afternoon sunshine. Its facade lacked any sort of fanciful embellishment, instead it possessed an austere beauty derived from perfect symmetry. The house wasn’t just there, it loomed – black and imposing. It didn’t help that it seemed to have sat unoccupied for most of its history, although neighbours would swear that that house had never really been empty. It was only of late that strange characters had started coming and going. No one quite knew who they were, and no one ever thought to ask. They were clearly the sort of individuals whom one did not strike up a conversation about the weather.

If a passer-by happened to glance up towards one of the second floor windows, they would have been startled by the face of a young woman behind the glass. The passer-by would no doubt have felt a shiver run down his spine, quickening his stride as he walked away. They would never know that she was not even looking down at the street, it was her own reflection that consumed all her attention.

The window pane was not in the habit of lying – the startlingly youthful, pale face, framed by golden blonde hair really was her own. Round, brilliant blue eyes stared back at her. The full, red lips were slightly parted. If she had thought to ask a stranger’s opinion of her age, they would have guessed her to be not more than twenty years old.

Tara Maclay was actually one hundred and thirty-seven. That was how old a person born in 1761 ought to be if it was possible to live to such a biblical age. What they really ought to be, was dead.

Unfortunately there were no rules for someone who had died, and now found themselves alive once again via a combination of outlandish and increasingly unbelievable happenstances. While se cared very little about such details, as far as Tara supposed she was eighteen. It was a guess determined in the most practical of manners, her death. She had been eighteen when she died at the hands of what she now knew had been a vampire. It was at that moment that her memories ended, from that point there had been nothing until the battlefield over one hundred years later when she had woken confused and frightened. In falling into the arms of her lover, Willow Van Helsing, she was able to believe that life had somehow been restored to her.

It was in the days that followed that this belief was slowly eroded as she learnt that she had spent decades as one of the foul, loathsome creatures who had taken her life. The thought that she had become such a depraved, soulless monster, had sent Tara into a spiral of shock and denial. While Willow had patiently explained what had happened, Tara eventually begged her to stop. She would not hear another word. The days of processing this torturous knowledge had gradually stretched into weeks…and then months, finally to the point where she would not emerge from her room at Gordon Square.

So Tara sat at her window and watched the world outside pass her by. Gordon Square was a quiet street, but she saw enough of the fast moving world to know that she was not a part of it. Willow came to sit with her, often at first as she struggled with the tears and nightmares…then gradually less and less as her own silence made it difficult to communicate. A part of her wanted desperately to talk to Willow and fall into her arms, but the part that consistently won had difficulty in accepting the red-headed woman as the same person she had known and fallen in love with. Willow Van Helsing was dead, and in her place was Willow Rosenberg. Although the two women were essentially the same person, Tara found herself grieving for her dead lover. This grief created a wall between them that caused the redhead immense pain. Tara saw it in her eyes and she understood it, but there was another element to this pain that she could not understand. From the elements that Willow had explained to her, her mind pieced together a frightening truth that drove her further to keep the other woman at arm’s length. It was what kept her awake long into the small hours of the morning with an awful, twisting sensation in her stomach.

Willow had loved the vampire.

~~~~~~

Willow Van Helsing-Rosenberg yelped as the wooden practice stave caught her squarely across her unprotected arse. She darted backwards and away from the follow up swing as her best friend and sparring partner, Faith Winters, let out a laugh of triumph at her very palpable hit. Willow scowled and adopted an offensive stance as though Faith had committed a gross affront to her honour. Faith’s next swings were all blocked with apparently effortless ease, although the look of fierce determination in Willow’s eyes gave her away. Even though it was merely supposed to be a training bout, she was channelling as much energy and determination as she would if fighting for her life. Faith was forced to give ground in the face of her attacks. Her feet moved quickly in a reverse across the practice mats as Willow surged forward, bringing her wooden stave down each time with such force that Faith felt her own stave reverberate violently in her hands. Still, she was not about to concede, especially not when it would further bolster Willow’s already over-inflated opinion of her fighting skills. She ducked beneath a sweeping high blow that would have given her a football sized lump on the side of her head and quickly brought her stave forward to block Willow’s reverse swing as she came back around. Faith then spun and delivered another solid blow to Willow’s unprotected arse. A part of her knew it was bad form to laugh yet again at her hit but she couldn’t help herself.

The small moment of mirth only infuriated Willow further, she darted forward with her rear still smarting from the blow and wiped the smile from Faith’s face with a series of blows that drove her back further until she finally crashed against a suit of armour mounted on a stand. It toppled to the floor with a resounding clatter and sent up a shower of dust. Willow surged through the cloud of dust, pressing her attack, she slammed her stave against Faith’s with such ferocity that Faith’s was smashed in two. The dark-haired would was forced to quickly seize a shield from a nearby rack when it became clear that Willow was not done.

“Slow down a bit, Will!” Faith commanded from behind the shield. “I do not think it would do your career prospects any good if you killed your employer’s lover!”

Willow kept the stave raised, she wasn’t quite done. “We are not playing here. Are you going to plead excuses to a vampire or a demon when they come at you with a battle axe? There’s no respite for us, Faith, no mercy.”

Faith scowled. “We are bloody training…although a part of me has the distinct feeling that you’d rather knock my head off than show any mercy. What the devil is up with you?”

“Like I said,” Willow shrugged as she twirled her stave around in her hand. “This is not for fun.”

Even as Willow started to shift into a defensive position, Faith tossed aside her shield. Without warning she threw herself forward and tackled Willow to the ground. She landed hard atop the redhead and heard a grunt as the air was knocked out of her body. While she was still trying to regain her breath, Faith plucked the weapon from her hand and tossed it across the other side of the training room. She then seized both of Willow’s hands and pinned them to the ground.

Beneath her, Willow’s face was almost as red as her hair from a combination of exertion and embarrassment. She stared defiantly up at Faith with a small scowl on her face. Faith could not resist a grin, she looked like a petulant child.

“What is this all about?” she demanded, not letting Willow move in the slightest. “You’re not usually such a poor sport.”

“That is because I rarely lose,” Willow replied quickly. “Now would you let me up? You’re exceedingly heavy and you’re squashing me!”

Faith ignored the jibe about her weight and shook her head, enjoying the feeling of having Willow pinned to the ground and helpless for once. “Not until you tell me what’s got your knickers in a knot!”

Willow sighed and had to look away from Faith as she admitted, “Tara.”

“That was my first and only guess,” Faith said, finally getting off Willow and rising smoothly to her feet. “It’s always Tara.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Willow asked grumpily, still lying on her back on the mat.

“My meaning was fairly obvious,” Faith shrugged. “You get all broody and bloody pissed off and I know it’s something to do with Tara…well, either that or you didn’t like the pie I made for dinner.”

“The pie was bloody awful,” Willow shivered at the memory of forcing the uncooked pastry down her throat until she could handle no more. If she thought Faith’s cabbage soup was bad, it was clear that her mutton pie was even worse. Even though they were engaged in a deep conversation, she couldn’t help but pause to lament the poor quality of their meals. “Faith, in case you had forgotten, I am rather well off, why the bloody hell do we have to eat cabbage all the time?”

“For the simple reason that it is the only food I know how to cook,” Faith replied testily. “Anyway, I believe we were talking about Tara, not criticising my cooking.”

“I fear she may never recover,” Willow admitted suddenly, knowing that if she didn’t get it out straight away then Faith would be forced to pry it out of her, a process that sometimes took hours.

“Who are we to say what ‘recovery’ means to Tara?” Faith shrugged, she was not unsympathetic but merely stating the obvious. “Although we may want her to be a functioning member of our strange family - to converse with us…to have sex with you-”

“Faith!” Willow’s redness increased. Although the seventeen-year old Willow Van Helsing had enjoyed an exceptionally healthy sex life with Tara, she could not imagine resuming their relationship. Not while things were so tense between them. She could no sooner imagine having sex with Faith.

“-that might not be what she wants,” Faith continued, she paused before finishing quietly, “You might not be what she wants.”

Willow knew Faith made perfect sense…and it was what she had been afraid of from the moment she realised that Tara was having difficulty accepting her new life. While she could not imagine resuming their relationship at present, she had held onto the hope that they would be able to go back to the way things had been before Edward and the turning that had almost destroyed their lives. However, as the months went by and their relationship grew only worse, Willow felt guilty and ashamed at just the mere thought of being with Tara as though it were in some way wrong.

“Not a day goes by without that very thought crossing my mind. In removing the demon from her body the spell essentially returned her to the state she was in when she was turned. Tara is eighteen, Faith.” Willow grimaced as she tried to rise into a sitting position, “And I feel as though I’m at least one hundred.”

When it became apparent that Willow was struggling to get to her feet, Faith reached out a helping hand. “An eighteen year old who spent decades as one of the undead.”

“Decades she doesn’t remember,” Willow pointed out in a tight voice as she rose to her feet. She crossed to the weapons rack and withdrew a fresh stave.

With a sigh of suffering, Faith retrieved her stave and took up a defensive stance. Thankfully when Willow began her blows were far less intensive or violent than they previously had been. She was able to enjoy the exercise instead of fear for her life.

“I know you worry about her,” Faith said between the cracking sounds of stave upon stave, “but I think you underestimate her strength. I think you should tell her everything.”

“Oh you think that do you?” Willow asked in a testy voice as she parried another swing, “You know I have already tried. I got as far as explaining what life would have been like as a vampire before she begged me to stop.”

“Explaining life as a vampire…hardly sounds all that bad,” Faith shrugged, she had begun to pant slightly. “Immortal, inhuman strength-”

“Seduction, rape and murder of innocents, the drinking of their blood?” Willow countered. “It was all a terrible nightmare to her. To actually consider that those were things she had done, it was too much for her.”

“Was it too much for you to learn that your lover had been turned into a vampire and then betrayed and murdered you?” Faith responded, changing tact slightly.

Willow paused for a moment; she too was breathing faster. “I coped.”

Faith resumed, forcing Willow to stop over-thinking everything as she continued to fight. “And you choose not to tell Tara because you believe she is incapable of coping?”

“Well…yes,” Willow admitted with a frown, she couldn’t understand where Faith was coming from. “We are two entirely different cases, before I went into the mirror or experienced the memories held within the cache I had already experience so much…and even then it was extremely difficult for me, you remember what a head case I was when I emerged from the mirror!”

“Cherished memories of you running around London in your pyjamas aside my point is that you coped.” Faith then grunted as Willow’s stave caught her in the gut, it wasn’t hard enough to knock her to the ground but she did have to pause and catch her breath. “You do not want Tara to know because you have decided that she cannot cope…what if Giles had decided that for you, if he refused to tell you anything even when you were demanding answers?”

“Two completely different circumstances!” Willow protested, annoyed at what she perceived as Faith blaming her for Tara’s state.

“Willow, you must face the state of your assumptions. You think she cannot cope because she’s not as strong as you were…because Tara is essentially a well-bred eighteenth century lady.”

“Yes!” Willow resumed striking out at Faith, the stave moving fluidly in her hands. “And in case you have forgotten, I remember what it was like to be a well-bred young woman in the eighteenth century!”

“I know you do, Will, I am merely saying you should do her the courtesy of trusting in her a little. She may not be a talented demon hunter of your ilk-” Faith blocked each of Willow’s blows and then held up her hand for a brief respite as what she had to say next was difficult to say. “-but she did spend several weeks as a married woman with a violent husband. Do you think because she merely had to face being hit and raped by her husband that she isn’t strong enough to learn what happened?”

“Faith, please,” Willow whispered, not even wanting to know just how Faith knew those intimate details of Tara’s life. They were details even she refused to dwell upon. “That is not what I am saying.”

There was a small bout of silence between them as neither had anything to say in further response to Faith’s observation. A minute later, Willow resumed the bout to keep her mind from thinking guilty thoughts. However, neither of them were enthusiastic about their actions and merely went through the motions. They traded polite blows back and forth across the training room. Just as she was about to bring her stave around in another sideswipe, Willow saw a pensive look pass across her friend’s face and she lowered her stave altogether. Willow stopped her movements before she brought the practice weapon crashing into Faith’s undefended body. Breathing heavily with exertion, she stood watching Faith, not at all comfortable with the amount of thinking she was suddenly doing.

As though finally realising she was still in the room with Willow, Faith tossed her stave to one side to indicate that she was done with training. It was a merciful relief, they were both exhausted. Willow set her own weapon back in the rack.

“I know you love Tara unconditionally,” Faith began quietly. “But do you honestly think that the two of you can resume your relationship in the midst of all this turmoil you both feel?”

Willow turned to face Faith, at first she spoke quietly but as she went on her voice continued to rise in intensity, “I honestly do not know Faith. The Tara that is foremost in my mind is not the girl I knew in my youth - that poor girl who is upstairs. The Tara I cannot get out of my mind is the tortured vampire that I hated…and then loved. At the end…before Covasna, we were together and it felt perfect...it felt perfect, Faith.” Willow’s voice caught in her throat. She was on the verge of tears. “And I feel as though I have lost her once again! How the bloody hell can you find something and lose it at the same time?”

“I cannot begin to tell you, Will,” Faith said sadly, sensing her best friend’s pain. “But I do know that the vampire is gone and - although I hesitate to say it in our particular line of work – I do not believe she will return. For all intents and purposes, the Tara that is upstairs, she is your Tara. Whether or not you two become lovers again, it is up to you to help her accept who she is.”

As she wiped the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her shirt, Willow nodded reluctantly. “I know. How the hell did you become so damn wise?”

“I’ve always been wise, you’ve just never listened,” Faith said as she reached out and laid an arm around Willow’s shoulders in a gentle hug.

Before they left the training room both women reached out to lay a gentle touch on the framed photo that hung by the stairs. Their fingers caressed the glass as though they were touching a person instead of the image. As she passed it by, Willow cast a lingering glance over the photo even though she could summon it at will from memory. There were two people in the image, two smiling faces with the future ahead of them. One was her teacher and mentor, Rupert Giles and the other her assistant and dear friend, Myles Cavendish. Both had given their lives on the battlefield at Covasna…Giles had given his life to work the magic that saved her life and restored Tara to her human self. Dear, brave Myles had fought alongside them despite being so terribly young and inexperienced. Lara had found him lying on the battlefield with a single arrow through his heart, a mercifully fast but no less tragic end. Two dear friends, both now gone.

As Faith disappeared up the stairs ahead of her, Willow lingered for a while with her mind working overtime as it had done so often in the three months following Covasna. She missed Giles desperately, his wisdom and his guidance had been invaluable in every instance and she wished he were here to help her through this time, to help her get through to Tara. While she knew Myles wouldn’t have too much to say about her problem, she did know that his grinning face would have cheered her up immensely. Whenever she thought of the young man, she bitterly regretted not letting him spend Museum money on the prostitutes in Paris. It was a relatively silly thought in the overall scheme of things but it was something Willow would always regret.

When the bookcase door closed behind them, once again concealing the entrance to the training room, Faith headed straight for the kitchen, she was always famished after training. Willow bade her goodnight and ascended the stairs to catch a few hours sleep before she took to the streets that night. Although Dracula was dead, vampires and demons still stalked the city streets at night, preying on any soul unfortunate enough to be out on the dark streets alone. The work she did was still needed; it was work that Willow was almost grateful for. It kept her occupied, busy all the time, too busy to think about Tara.

However, even as Willow’s body sagged with weariness she could not help but look at the closed door at the end of the hall. It was still relatively early in the evening and she could see a faint crack of light peering from beneath the door. Tara was still awake. Willow sighed and walked straight past her own room and came to a halt just in front of Tara’s room. She listened for a moment but could hear nothing. Willow paused before she brought her fingers up to knock on the door and thought better of knocking, she half turned as though to leave. She stood outside the door for almost a minute, poised to return to her own room, but still feeling as though she had to see Tara…even if it was only to wish her a simple goodnight. Finally she turned back to the door and reached out with a decisive move to knock on the door. The knock itself was far from decisive, a mere tentative touching of her knuckles to the wood.

Moments later there was a faint voice from inside, “Yes?”

Not come in…she might as well have asked ‘who is it?’ Willow thought with a sharp pang, it would hardly have been anyone else standing outside her door. Faith gave Tara so much space it was as though the two women existed on a different plane of reality and Willow had not found the time or the energy to engage new servants. This was despite the fact that they had eaten Faith’s cabbage soup and her own ‘stew’ so often that both dishes now caused her to gag slightly at the sight of them. However, the actual finding and engaging of servants was not high on her list of priorities. She knew that eventually she would have to attend to such practical matters, but until that time became absolutely necessary, she knew they would have to do without.

“It’s me,” she said quietly. “Me being Willow of course.”

There was an awful pause, Willow feared that Tara would simply not answer her but then she heard a barely audible, “Come in.”

Willow opened the door and entered slowly so as not to startle her. Tara was still sitting at the window; it was exactly the same spot in which she had been sitting that morning when she brought her breakfast. She was staring at something outside the window, although the fast falling dark made it difficult to see anything at all. Willow looked at Tara for a few moments, willing her to turn around. When it became apparent that she would not, she scanned the room and found the largely untouched breakfast tray sitting on the bedside table. She automatically crossed to the room to retrieve it, frowning when she saw that the porridge was untouched and the fruit had barely been nibbled on.

“Um…I came to see if you were hungry?” Willow asked quietly, she then looked down at the tray. “But I see not.”

Tara finally turned away from the window to look at her through expressionless eyes; however she merely shook her head and then resumed staring out the window. Willow stood in the centre of the room holding the tray; she couldn’t help but stare at Tara. Even though she could only see the slight curve of her pale cheek, her eyes roamed downwards over her neck which was left bare as her hair was neatly arranged atop her head. Willow jerked her gaze away as she felt like an intruder even though she had looked at the same skin many times…and seen more besides. Tara made no move nor gave any indication that Willow’s presence was bothering her...but she did not make any effort to engage in conversation either.

Say something or leave, Will, Willow thought awkwardly, she took a few steps backwards towards the door but stopped short of leaving. Her movements were reluctant because she did not want to leave in the first place. She wanted to cross the floor and take up the cushion at Tara’s side but the imagined look of fright on Tara’s face was enough to prevent her from doing so.

“Tara?” Willow whispered, hoping to at least gain her attention and another glimpse of her blue eyes before she left. However, Tara did not acknowledge her question and remained staring at whatever it was that held her fascination outside. “Are you happy at Gordon Square?”

Willow put the question to Tara and gave her time to think it over. While it was obvious that she wasn’t happy, Willow needed to hear her admit it…although for what reason, she wasn’t sure. Almost a minute passed and Tara did not respond. Willow sighed and made to leave, balancing the full breakfast tray on one hand as she opened the door.

“I do not care for this house.”

The quiet but sudden announcement almost caused Willow to drop her tray. She turned quickly but Tara was still looking out the window even as she continued speaking.

“This house frightens me…it is as though something terrible happened here.”

Something terrible did happen here, Willow thought as her heart ached for the blonde. My brother imprisoned you for sixteen years in the basement…you were tortured and mad when you emerged. However she could not give voice to such thoughts. “I’m…sorry,” she whispered, “I-I can find somewhere else for you to stay, perhaps with Lara, you remember Lara don’t you, tall, brunette...well-proportioned bosom, Faith’s…errr…friend…the Museum Director, I shall ask her…”

“You are babbling,” Tara interrupted her in a quiet voice.

“Babbling?” Willow frowned, then felt her spirits lighten somewhat as she realised it was an almost flippant and yet poignant observation on Tara’s part. “I guess I was…”

“I do not care for this house…but nor do I want to leave,” Tara admitted as Willow’s voice trailed off. Her own voice faltered slightly when she tried to continue. “I-I…”

She finally turned around for the second time, although at first her gaze was downcast as she stared at her hands clasped in her lap. Willow waited expectantly and sure enough, after a few moments Tara looked up with a small sigh escaping her lips.

“I need to be here,” she breathed. The unspoken conclusion to her sentence was simply, with you.

Willow’s own breath was caught in her throat and she could not reply immediately, when she did her voice hardly carried further than her lips, “Me too.”

The moment passed almost as quickly as it had arrived and Tara turned her gaze away, effectively ending the conversation. After waiting for a minute, Willow left the room and closed the door quietly behind her. As she walked down the hallway she realised that her eyes were brimming with unshed tears…she suspected that they were tears of relief but she couldn’t be sure. Eventually, she had to set the tray down on the floor before she dropped it altogether. She too remained on the floor and allowed herself to give into the tears…just once more. Finally, tomorrow held a possibility that had been absent from yesterday.

~~~~~~

Thanks for reading folks - I hope to post a re-written chapter every few days or so and then I will get down to the good shit - the new material I've written.

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Willow Van Helsing...saving the world since 1777 │ Van Rosenberg II - Lord of Ice and Shadow

DDDDDDIIIIIBBBBBBSSSSS.

I need to compose myself before actual feedback occurs

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Foo

Kisses and Gay Love
"I like my buttons, curvy." - Willow, Neverland, by Easiersaid

When you initially signed off after finishing The Moth and The Star (which happens to be one I enjoy immensely, then again i like all your stories - yes, shameless encouragement here), I wailed along with the rest since this was going unfinished. I'm so happy you're going to finish this! (If you couldn't tell).

This just made my night. (edited because auto suggest is evil and cranky tonight)

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Heather aka vampyregurl73 aka Riverwillows73

My stories:
"Dry Heat – In Progress (still)" "Penny Arcade - Completed"

My Fic Challenge entries:
"Fireworks" "Promise" "I Did What Last Night?"

luved this series when it was first written glad to see it back and renewed

I usually only read completed fics because I am so dissapointed if they are discontinued. So, I have not read any parts of VR II.

I'm so excited to see how you reunite these two. VR was an EPIC fic. I'm glad that you will continue.

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The kitten formerly known as SMGOVAN ~Official Head of Security for the Finey_McFine fan club. Ass whippings will be handed out liberally!

THRILLED BEYOND WORDS!!!!!!!!

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Shelby - Racing The Rain (IN PROGRESS) / Baby Makes Three (IN PROGRESS) / The Santa Line / Everything She Does...Is Beautiful / Calfornia Grass

"Transform your pain. Release your past. And ... uh ... get over it."
~Willow, Where The Wild Things Are

Just had a freak out sitting next to my boss. She's looking at me like im crazy, and all I can say is "Im so happy right now". Thank you so much for picking this story back up, I love reading everything you write! Good look!!!

Big yay for returning!

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We Few, We Happy Few, We Band of Buggered

Posting while nude improves your mood...

Yay!! Thanks for making a really crappy day sooo much better. Can't wait to have time to actually read this! (see crappy day as to why I can't read immediately)

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hate is just a faliure of immagination ~ The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene

You must first be who you really are, then do what you need to do, in order to have what you want. – Margaret Young

I am super pumped for this! Thank you do much for bringing it back to us! You are super!

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"When Mother Nature starts howling and crying...I smile. I love thunder storms!"

What?

WHAT?!

I mean WHAT??!!!


My dearest, Alcy. You have no idea how happy I am to see you here again. I believe I had one of those...oh, what's it called? Oh yeah, orgasm...climax things and literally creamed my jeans.

You know VR was probably my favorite fic of all time, and I'm thrilled beyond words that you care enough for these characters to bring them out of limbo. For some reason, I'm picturing them sitting around on your hard driving playing cards, bored to tears, wondering what was to become of them after all they had been through.

So thank you, THANK YOU for doing this!


Wimpy

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Pam aka Wimpy0729
Restlessness ~ Quickies - The Lovers, The Dreamers & Me

"There was plenty of magic." ~~ Tara

Foo: Thanks for the welcome. It is lovely to find so many familiar Kittens here. I’ve missed you!

vampyregurl73: The Moth and the Star is one of my favourites too. I thoroughly enjoyed writing that one, just as I think I will enjoy finishing the rest of VR II. Thanks very much for all the dancing bananas.

cammy: Thanks very much. It is good to have the story back and the opportunity to renew it is proving very interesting.

Grimm: Yes, it is a very wise rule on your part. There are so many great fics on here that it seems will never be finished. I hope that VR II will be finished one day so it can sit alongside the first one.

Finey McFine: You’re thrilled? I am thrilled that you are thrilled!

NickoleIvory: Ah, reading the Kittenboard whilst at work? I approve immensely! Thanks very much for your very warm welcome.

zampsa: Thank you – one of my most loyal reviewers!

Morningstar: Very glad to hear I improved your crappy day. Unfortunately I have had a crappy one today, terribly sick and in bed at 3pm but it’s lovely to read feedback!

fhiwda: Don’t mention it. I felt awful when it couldn’t finish it, but I’m so pleased that I can bring it back and people actually still care about finding out what happens after so long.

wimpy!: What was that again? I do hope that you did not spoil your jeans on my account...but it is so very good to be back, if not for everyone that ever read VR and asked ‘where the bloody hell did the sequel go’ then just for you!
I don’t think Willow and Faith would have been sitting on my harddrive playing cards, they would no doubt have constructed a practice dummy to look like me and be relentlessly pummelling it with swords and crossbow bolts! Great to see you, my friend.

Everyone - it has been a busy past few years. I actually managed to get married and am in the first stages of planning to leave New Zealand and head over to the UK to live - scary! I hope this move won't interrupt the writing process too much! I have only recently started to get back into writing fan-fiction. Yes, I have been cheating a little bit on our girls by writing in other fandoms! Gasp! However W/T will always be my first fanfic love.

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Willow Van Helsing...saving the world since 1777 │ Van Rosenberg II - Lord of Ice and Shadow

One foot after the other, left, right, left, right. As she walked, Willow kept her eyes on her shiny new shoes. She had to admit that the shoes were rather dapper, but even dapper new shoes did not warrant constant attention – especially when it was far more important that she actually watched where she was going. Although she had trod the same path to the British Museum hundreds of times, it was a fact of life that other pedestrians were also using the footpath. For some strange reason none appeared to appreciate having distracted redhead collide with them or force them into the gutter.

“I say, watch where you are going, young man!” a particularly disgruntled gentleman snapped moments after their shoulders collided roughly. His bowler hat tumbled from his head and onto the dirty cobbles.

“Terribly sorry,” Willow apologised, wincing as he stooped to retrieve the hat whilst delivering her an annoyed glare.

Willow sighed, jammed her hands in her pockets and kept her eyes on the path ahead to avoid further incidents. New shoes aside, the truth was that she found the prospect of returning to work daunting to say the least. While she would be able to walk along the corridor to Giles’s cluttered workroom and find it still full of his oddities and inventions, she would not find the man himself there. There would also be no more cold cups of tea splashed down the front of her suit when she was running late. Miles Cavendish would never make another cup of tea, cold or otherwise.

There was one last corner ahead. For some reason she found herself holding her breath. She let it out in a sharp exhale at the sight of the British Museum on Great Russell Street – still just a stately and imposing as it had ever been. Willow paused momentarily to straighten her new suit - a black pinstripe affair that had cost more money than she was paid in a month. Still, it helped to have inherited a sizable sum from her past self. Willow had hardly been a spendthrift with the money - the suit and the shoes were the only luxuries she had purchased for herself. Although she quite enjoyed the knowledge of having all that gold within reach, good sense had prevailed and she had deposited the money into her account at the Bank of England. The bank had been only too happy to accept her gold…and Faith helpfully reminded her that money would collect far more interest sitting in the bank that it ever would have sitting in her safe.

Despite her newfound wealth, at no stage had the thought of not returning to work crossed Willow’s mind. The Museum had been her life for so long that she could not imagine leaving. Even so, after a relatively long absence, Willow felt as though it was her first day at work as she trotted up the main steps. For some reason she decided that she would make a discreet entrance through the main doors rather than the employee only doors. However, as she passed beneath the mighty columns and received a welcoming nod from the doorman, she realised that she was subconsciously reacquainting herself with the building. The air inside the lobby was as draughty and cool as it had ever been and when she took the employees door she was greeted by the familiar musty smell of the back of house corridors. Willow breathed in deeply and felt somewhat refreshed and even a little chirpier. However, her mood soon turned sombre once again as she found two new portraits hanging in the portrait corridor a short ways down from her brother, Abraham Van Helsing. Willow stopped to stare at the faces of Rupert Giles and Myles Cavendish. When she saw that each bore a prim brass plate with just their names she wrinkled her nose slightly at how impersonal it was. She made up her mind to speak to Lara about it as soon as possible. As she glanced back up to the portraits, she had to admit that the artist had done an admirable job. There was a wisdom about Giles and a mischievousness about Myles that reflected exactly how they had been in life. Willow did make a mental note to leave a few instructions for the Museum when it came time for her to be immortalised in oils. If one was doomed to hang in a corridor, then one should look their very best.

Willow strode straight past her own office without so much as pausing to look at the door, instead she continued down the hall towards Giles’s workroom. The heavy brass plate had not changed, it still read Implements and Inventions but the ratty piece of paper that had previously been fixed above it was gone. She gently reached out and touched the space where the note scrawled with ‘Dr Rupert Giles’ had been.

Suddenly she heard the rap of metal on metal sounding out from within the workshop. At first her heart skipped a few beats but then she began to feel as overwhelming sense of hope…perhaps it wasn’t too much to hope that a centuries old warlock knew how to cheat death. With his name and a hopeful smile on her lips, Willow pushed forward into the workroom.

“Giles?” she called once she was in the room.

The clash of metal upon metal ran out for several more seconds before it stopped. At the far end of the room a figure shrouded in shadows stood and moved towards her with purposeful strides. Willow almost immediately knew that whoever it was, it wasn’t Giles. He was too short and broad to be the warlock. She instinctively found herself shrinking back towards the door a few steps but as he stepped into the light and his face was revealed her apprehension disappeared to be replaced by anger.

“Alexander Harris?” Willow snapped in disbelief.

“Nice to see you again too, Miss Rosenberg,” Alex Harris grinned, he pushed back the goggles he wore and twirled the hammer he held about in one hand.

Willow spluttered, speechless for a moment even as he stood opposite her and continued to grin with his ridiculous smile. Not only was he carrying one of Giles’s hammers, he wore his leather apron and his safety goggles.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” she demanded, having absolutely no time for pleasantries.

Alex didn’t seem taken aback in the least by her rudeness, “This here’s my new job, Miss Croft hired me last week.”

“What?” it took Willow a while to realise what he had just said and all she could do was stand there stupidly.

“My new job,” Alex repeated, “You know, fixin’ up your weapons and making new ones. I’ve got this splendid idea for something new and improved.” He crossed to the table beside him and lifted an exceptionally large hand gun and the large bullet that obviously matched. “I dunno why you guys are bothering with crossbows when you could just use silver bullets in this here pistol. A darn sight better I would imagine!”

“Well, you just stay here and play with your pistol, Mr Harris,” Willow said as she turned to leave, And I am going to make sure I ask Croft what the bloody hell she was thinking!

“Nice meeting you again!” Alex called after her, “Say, anytime you wanna show me around the museum - all the nooks and crannies, the little dark spaces where someone could get lost.”

“I would love it if I did lose you,” Willow muttered under her breath as she shut the door behind her and retreated towards the safety of her own office, still slightly queasy at the thought of Giles’s workroom being violated by such a lout.

Drawing in a small breath, Willow paused by the door to her office. Someone had repainted her name which she remembered as being rather small and dull. It now very aptly read Willow Van Rosenberg and whoever it was had even seen fit to add a small subtitle, Senior Curator of Oddities. Willow frowned, she did not remember being a ‘senior’ anything when she had last been at work and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was a promotion of sorts. That would be ironic, all those years of slaving away for a pittance and I get a promotion when I don’t really need the money any longer..

Willow allowed herself a small smile, now all she needed was the prefix of Dr. sitting in front of her name. There was just the matter of finding the time to write her PhD thesis and also the small matter of finding a topic to write about. She had so many ideas that pinning it all down to one seemed impossible.

After spending a few moments imaging that there was a ‘Dr’ in front of her name, Senior Curator Willow Van Rosenberg opened the door to her office. She was immediately greeted by the same array of smells that she had encountered when entering the employee corridors, although it was more pronounced. Willow was able to pick out the smell of old books, mingled with ancient artefacts and her musty old rag rug sitting on the floor. Everything was exactly as it had been when she left work, there was even a dirty tea cup sitting amidst the papers on her desk. She moved around behind the desk and drew her chair out. As she sat down she had the distinct feeling that she had never left her office.

“It’s about time you came back to work.”

Willow jerked her head up at the sound of the familiar, melodious voice and she instantly found herself with a broad smile on her face. Lara Croft stood in front of her, leaning casually against the doorframe with her arms folded across her chest. Although she had seen the Director of the British Museum many times since Covasna, her presence in this environment was enough to cheer her considerably. She even momentarily forgot about demanding why the hell Alexander Harris was working at the museum.

Lara returned the smile. “I was about to re-advertise your position.”

Willow’s eyes immediately widened. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“I know, I realised that I would never be able to find someone half as talented as you that would work for so little money…so the job is still yours,” Lara reassured her.

“What about my new title?” Willow pointed towards the smartly painted lettering on her door. “It doesn’t come with a pay rise?”

Lara gave the door a brief glance but it was obvious she had already seen it. “I do not think I will cancel the advertisement for the position after all. Perhaps I will employ someone less recalcitrant?”

Willow’s eyes widened. “Recalcitrant? Me? Surely I am a model employee?” She saw a grin start to form on Lara’s lips and realised that the Director was toying with her. “You thought that since I came into a lot of money that I wouldn’t need a pay rise? I suppose you are correct, the title change will suffice, and I am quite sure that the money saved will be employed to better use.”

“Yes, I’m thinking of taking a trip to the Galapagos later this year,” Lara winked.

Far from being jealous, Willow immediately winced at the thought of such a lengthy sea journey. As far as she was concerned, someone else could accompany the Director on that particular trip…if she was actually going at all and the suggestion had not merely been to rile her about the lack of a pay rise.

“All quips aside, do you think you are ready to be back at the museum?” Lara asked in a serious tone that meant she was well and truly finished with her jokes. “Because if you would rather spend more time at home with Tara then I can-”

Willow interrupted her employer with a sudden, sharp shake of her head and an almost brusque reply, “No. I will go barmy if I have to spend any more time alone and idle.”

“You have hardly been alone and idle, Willow,” Lara replied slowly, trying to understand why Willow would even make such a comment. “I would have thought your hands would have been full with-”

“You assume too much!” Willow interrupted her again, this time her voice was sharp and insistent. She bit her lip shortly after her outburst. Yelling at one’s employer was never a good idea. She sighed. “It is the right time to return. I am certain of it.”

Lara couldn’t hide her surprise at Willow’s abrupt reaction; she stared for a moment before agreeing with a small nod. “I will trust in your judgement.”

“I was thinking I would interpret Giles’s Covasna spell. I know the past is the past, but I feel as though I have to understand what he did,” Willow announced, her voice returning to a much calmer tone as Lara’s line of questioning focused on something other than Tara. The spell had been weighing heavily on her mind for the past months and she was eager to unpick what Giles had done. She knew that the knowledge wouldn’t change what had happened, but it would give her a sense of closure.

Lara glanced down at the leather folder that had been tucked under her arm; she seemed a little reluctant but eventually placed it atop the mess on Willow’s desk. Willow undid the leather tie holding the folder closed and opened it to reveal a stack of papers covered in meticulous notes tucked into one side of the folder and on the other was a single sheet of paper. Unlike the notes which she knew were in Lara’s hand, the single sheet was covered in a mass of scribbles and closely packed writing, corrections and amendments had been made and squeezed into every available space on the sheet. Willow did not need to be told what it was; she had watched Giles scribble on the paper many times on the way to Covasna. It was the spell.

“I thought you might say that,” Lara said, not waiting for Willow to look back up at her. “So I carried out some research of my own, not as thoroughly as you would have done it of course…but I think it is all quite clear.”

Willow scanned Lara’s notes and then the spell in an effort to digest everything at once. The original spell was plainly obvious, written out in a relatively neat hand at the centre of the sheet before they had discovered that the skull resided inside Willow. It would have been all so simple, find the skull and destroy it. However, the hasty additions made in the days leading up to Covasna were designed to first remove the skull from Willow’s body and then destroy it. Willow frowned as she passed back and forth between the spell and the notes. She finally glanced back up at Lara.

“He did it on purpose,” Willow whispered in a numb voice. “At the same time as he stripped the skull from my body he stripped the demon from Tara’s and then used the destruction spell to destroy both evils.” She could not believe that Giles had not informed her of his intentions even though she knew that if he had, both she and Tara would have tried to stop him, preferring to die rather than have him sacrifice himself. “Surely he must have known that such an undertaking would kill him?”

“It was Giles. Of course he knew what he was doing,” Lara replied sadly.

Willow lowered her gaze. “Yes…of course.”

Following Willow’s words, a silence descended between them but it was not uncomfortable. Both women reflected on their memories of the centuries old warlock who had come to mean so much to them. For Willow, Giles had been so much more of a father to her than Ira Rosenberg had ever been. She eventually resumed scanning through Lara’s notes, but only after scrubbing discreetly at both her eyes when they stung with inevitable tears. She managed to banish them away and hide behind a calm, business-like façade.

“Did you…” Willow swallowed awkwardly before she brought up the one person that she was still uncomfortable talking about. “Did you find anything to suggest why the spell also caused memory loss?”

“Yes and no,” Lara began. “I could find no trace of intent to cause such a state in Giles’s spell, and indeed it would have been a concern weighing on his mind at the time of composing the spell if he had known of it. I think it seems to have been a side-effect of removing the demon from Tara’s body.”

“So the removal of the demon essentially removed all the memories she had amassed during her time as that demon.” Willow frowned even as she said it, struggling to make sense of such an explanation. “But would the restoration of her soul not have a countering effect?”

Lara shrugged. “Perhaps it does and Tara still retains her memories from the point at which she was ensouled?”

Willow shook her head slowly. “I do not believe so. She can recall nothing from her time as a vampire. I doubt whether her memories would be that severely repressed.” I hope to god that they are not, Willow thought, remembering just how awful it was to experience nightmares and visions of memories without knowing what they were. Still, the alternative was never knowing at all. She did not know what was worse.

“How is Tara?” Lara asked quietly, interrupting Willow’s thoughts. “It feels odd to discuss the bare mechanics of this spell when the subjects are my friends. I can see how you are only just managing to hold everything together and I wonder how difficult it must be for her.”

At the first mention of Tara in a context other than the clinical discussion of the spell, Willow couldn’t keep the hopeful expression from creeping onto her face, especially when she recalled the encouraging end to the conversation the previous evening. However, they were just a few words in the face of months of uncomfortable silence. This hope all too quickly faded to despair, especially at Lara’s assessment of her own state of mind. Her first thought was to deny it outright and state that she was just fine…but she knew just how right Lara was. The bout yesterday with Faith had brought out some uncharacteristic and unpleasant traits and she was surprised her best friend had not seen fit to dress her down even more thoroughly.

“Is my state of mind that obvious?” Willow asked quietly.

“Yes,” Lara confirmed honestly. “Which is why I asked whether you were ready to be back at work. Then you reacted abruptly as soon as I mentioned Tara.”

“I am truly sorry, Lara,” Willow sighed, feeling guilty that she had snapped at one of her dearest friends. “Things are just the same as they were during your visit last week. She refuses to leave her room or open up to me. Although I did have a...somewhat encouraging conversation with her last night,” Willow glanced up at Lara, wondering if she should share what she regarded as a private moment between the two of them. “She admitted that she needed to be close to me. That is a good thing, is it not?”

Lara smiled encouragingly at Willow’s hopeful expression, “It cannot be anything but a good thing, Willow.”

Willow could not return the smile. “She is undoubtedly the love of my life, but I’ve spent most of my life…” Willow paused and thought for a moment before correcting herself. “…my lives, apart from her. However now that she is as close to me as ever…I feel so distant from her. I miss her, Lara, I ache for her desperately. Is it so very wrong of me to not be happy with just the mere fact that she is alive and safe but to want more of her? Is it wrong of me to want her at all?”

Lara finally moved from her position leaning against the doorframe. She folded herself elegantly into the chair in front of Willow’s desk. Once seated, she reached out both hands across the expanse of papers and books that separated them and took Willow’s hands in her own.

“I spent a great deal of time watching and wanting Faith from afar and all along she had wanted me just as much. Almost as soon as our relationship began I was preoccupied with asking myself why it was that two strong, confident women could not express their feelings for one another. I lamented the time lost as opposed to cherishing the time we did have. Love is a terribly complicated state of affairs Willow. You can suddenly find yourself with everything you have ever wanted, and yet find it is not enough. Patience and hindsight have taught me that, everything happens according to its own plan. I know you don’t want to hear me tell you to have patience…”

“I do not,” Willow replied quietly, but she had to admit that Lara spoke nothing short of the truth.

“Well, sometimes love needs a helping hand. I know it is not my place to intrude in the least,” Lara began. “But if you would like, I can speak to Tara.”

“She has spoken to no one save me…and perhaps a few mundane words to Faith, I hesitate to think what you could possibly say?” Willow asked in a cautious voice

Lara shrugged slightly. “I do not think the content matters so much as simply having someone new to talk to.”

Willow finally nodded tentatively, giving her agreement even though it was not really hers to give. Regardless of her mental state, Tara was still very much her own person and she had no right speak for her. Still, the old Tara knew Lara well; perhaps a part of her would be able to sense that she could trust her.

As Lara stood to leave, Willow remembered the other pressing matter that she had wanted to speak to the Director about, the intruder she had found in Giles’s workshop. Alexander Harris. Just the thought of the man who had plied her with alcohol during her first field trip was enough to rouse her anger. If Myles had not been present, she hated to think where the situation would have ended up. Alex’s intentions had not only been misguided…they had almost been sinister.

“Lara, I hope you don’t mind me being frank…but have you misplaced your good sense since we returned from Covasna?” Willow asked, not caring if she sounded insubordinate.

Lara lifted her eyebrows in surprise, “I should think not.” She did not go as far as to scold Willow for her poor manners.

“Then why the bloody hell did you hire that irresponsible, womanising lout?” Willow demanded, “He is defiling Giles’s workroom as we speak!”

“Mr Harris?” Lara then merely shrugged. “The position was vacant. Good weapon makers are actually quite hard to find, you’d be surprised just how many balk when they are told the purpose for the weapons that they make. Somehow most are under the impression that vampires and demons do not exist.”

“That’s all very well…but I think you could have been a little stricter with your standards!” Willow pointed out.

“Leave him be, Willow,” Lara warned as she moved towards the door, “You may find in time that Mr Harris can be a valuable asset. He is more than eager to make up for his failings when you were wounded at Covasna.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” For Willow it was another reason to distrust Alex. He had been off chasing horses when Angelus had shown up. A physical confrontation with the powerful vampire had eventually led to her ending up skewered on a piece of rusty metal.

“He is under the strictest orders to be on his best behaviour. Any black mark and his time with the Museum will be swiftly terminated,” Lara explained.

“But-” Willow began petulantly.

Lara silenced her with a steady look that Willow knew meant the conversation was over. She then left Willow sitting in her office with plenty of time to let both her anger over Alex and her sorrow over Tara create a rather unpleasant sensation in her gut. With a sigh she wondered if it had been a mistake to return to work as clearly she was not capable of dealing with anything.

While she was fervently grateful that Lara would speak to Tara, she worried that it meant she was incapable of helping her herself. A failure to help the one she loved was not something Willow wanted to admit. Willow sighed as she closed the leather folder that still sat in front of her. She no longer wanted to spend the rest of her day analysing the spell. What she wanted was to spend the rest of the day in Tara’s arms…and every hour of every day for the rest of her life. Such a simple thing seemed so unattainable. It was uncomfortable even to imagine sitting in silence with Tara, the gulf between them was such that she felt as though she no longer knew the blonde. It was a terrifying thing to admit. It frightened her because she knew she could not live the rest of her life without truly knowing Tara. Willow fished around on her desk and located her research on Fiores demons, an innocuous topic that she knew she could concentrate on without dredging up uncomfortable thoughts.

Several sheets of paper and a few illustrations later, Willow had almost succeeded in achieving a busy state of mind that was focused on something other than Tara…almost.

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Willow Van Helsing...saving the world since 1777 │ Van Rosenberg II - Lord of Ice and Shadow

Yay for another excellent chapter...

PS: Big yay for getting married. I hope the scary move to UK doesn't cause too much ....

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We Few, We Happy Few, We Band of Buggered

Posting while nude improves your mood...

I have started reading VR again to resist the temptation of reading ahead.

It's even BETTER the second time around.

Poor Willow. To be so close, yet SO FAR, to having your fondest dreams come true has to feel like cruel and unusual punishment.

I love your writing. I can picture your versions of our girls * Angelina/Lara in the pre-Billy bob days* very clearly in my minds eye.

Congrats on the Nuptials and I hope the big move doesn't suck to much!

A BIG Congratulations to you. Do we need to refer to you now as Mrs Alcy? Okay.

Mrs. Alcy:

Your descriptions are simply amazing. Everything from simply walking down the street, the familiar smells of the building, to the state of her desk with the cup of tea, you can just magically transport us right into the scene. You pull us right in, to the point that I was almost in tears where she looked at Giles and Myles' portraits. I miss those two terribly already.

Her turmoil over Tara is so heartbreaking. After everything they have been through, I would love to see them be able to just go frolicky through the daisies going tra-la-la, and of course, spending countless hours making mad passionate love. Unfortunately, their relationship is complicated beyond all measure, so it just cannot be that way. At least not yet (but please, please don't make them suffer too long). So much has happened. Willow is not the same person Tara once knew, yet she sort of is. Although that Willow changed dramatically after Tara's turning. She's also Willow Rosenberg, who Tara doesn't know at all. Tara is the same young woman that the young Willow Van Helsing knew, although horribly traumatized by Edward (and I hope he's rotting in hell), and now with the knowledge that she spent years as a soulless vampire, years as an ensouled vampire, years spent being tortured while being an ensouled vampire....

Oh wait, she doesn't know yet what Abraham did to her, or the fact that she killed her first Willow. Oh my God, get that girl some Lithium and lots of psychotherapy or something. This is all making me dizzy. LOL

And oh yeah, she also thinks/knows? that this Willow was in love with Vamp Tara. Doesn't it count that it was still her, well at least in some form. I miss that Tara now too. I think I need a drink. I also think these girls need to start talking and getting to know who each other is now and the rest will follow (pretty please?).

No, their relationship isn't complicated at all. Oh my, Mrs Alcy, please help our girls.

Again, congrats, good luck on your move, and don't worry about my jeans. That's not the first time that's happened while I was reading fanfiction, although for a different reason. Bottomline is, I got overly excited to see you back.


Wimpy

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Pam aka Wimpy0729
Restlessness ~ Quickies - The Lovers, The Dreamers & Me

"There was plenty of magic." ~~ Tara

Welcome back!!

Congrats on the nuptials, Alcy, I hope you are both very happy.

I'm so happy to see you revived/resurrected/resouled?? this fic, and I know I won't be the only one feeling that way.

I loved this the first time round, and I can't wait to get the newer chapters - and new kittens, do read VR 1, not only to get an excellent grounding in this fic, but because it's one of the very best on the board and you are missing a real treat if you don't.

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People grow through experience if they meet life honestly and courageously. This is how character is built. Eleanor Roosevelt

zampsa: congrats on the dibs!

Grimm: Thanks for giving VR another go and I hope you are enjoying your second read through! I actually want to go back and edit all the chapters as there are quite a few grammatical and punctuation errors but the board is a bit temperamental so I’m just going to leave it alone. I actually have a version that I painstakingly edited and made it look like a book which is what I use for my read-throughs.

Thanks for the well-wishes. I am really looking forward to moving to the UK although the thought of leaving NZ possibly forever is a bit daunting!

wimpy: Haha, you don’t need to call me Mrs Alcy, just Alcy is fine.

Thanks so much for your wonderfully detailed feedback. You know how much I love painting the scene, I really want people to be able to live the story at the same time they are reading it.

There is an impossibility inherent in bringing Willow and Tara back to the point where they were before Tara married Edward (now reading this post that Twilight crap I feel rather pleased that I named the worst character in the story Edward). They are both different people, Willow markedly so and Tara is slowly discovering things about herself. They essentially have to start from scratch, but with an even greater longing for each other than before. And there is the simple matter of her not knowing what she actually did as a vampire.
However, I am not going to make you suffer too long. There are some difficult conversations coming, but as the story progresses I will get them back to a point where they can spend countless hours frolicking!

Paint the Sky: Hi there! Thanks very much for your well-wishes. Being married is awfully nice but I would like it better if my wife hadn’t returned to England a month ago. The difficulty is that she has to have a job before they will let me in the country. Thankfully she now has a job and we’re just waiting on a few bits of paper to come through before I can submit my visa application. Fingers crossed!

This fic has indeed been resurrected / resouled, both of which are incredibly appropriate descriptions for it! Hopefully it shan’t take me too long to get to the newer chapters. Thanks for encouraging newer kittens to read it. You should have warned them that they are in for the long-haul though although this board is teeming with excellent lengthy fics so it is in good company.

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Willow Van Helsing...saving the world since 1777 │ Van Rosenberg II - Lord of Ice and Shadow

Although Willow was steadily beginning to realise that her cooking wasn’t quite up to scratch, she would never have gone as far as to admit that she couldn’t boil water. Boiling enough water to clean her mountainous pile of dirty clothes caused her to rethink this standpoint. As she faced a trio of rattling, steaming pots raging out of control, she realised she would rather face a trio of vampires any day. Boiling water was far more hazardous to her health – her thumb already smarted painfully. She had also managed to scald her forearm as she lent over to try and remove a pot at the back of the stove that she had filled too enthusiastically to begin with. Usually the most she ended up with after a night out on the hunt was a splinter, or perhaps a blister from too much running. With her hands wrapped in cloths, she wisely decided to lift the pots at the front from the stove top. All went well until she faced down the last pot - it hissed and spluttered at her as though daring her to try and move it. Willow eyed the boiling water as though she were staring at a demon intent on doing her harm. For all she knew, something had possessed her stove and was now out to get her.

Through her frustration, she heard footsteps behind her. When she glanced quickly over her shoulder, Faith strolled into the kitchen. Her fellow Agent soon had an amused smile on her face. “You have no qualms about facing several vampires at once but as soon as you get in front of that oven you’re quailing like a kitten being forced to take a bath,” Faith commented helpfully as she peered over Willow’s shoulder.

“Thank you very much for that analogy,” Willow replied in a strained voice as she struggled to get a better grip on the pot. “You know, you could offer to help!”

Wrapping her hand in a cloth, Faith took the pot from Willow’s grip and quickly took it out into the courtyard where she promptly tossed it in the tub Willow was preparing for the washing. When she re-entered the kitchen she found Willow with both hands in a bucket of cold water, her cheeks red and flushed from the exertion of the past half an hour. She glanced across at the row of pots next to her and realised that they still had to be carried out to her tub, and then she actually had to wash the clothes. By the time she was done with clothes, her stomach would be rumbling for dinner. It was a never-ending nightmare of household chores. She would have sooner faced an Atramen demon alone (provided she had matches of course).

“I have come to a stunningly wise conclusion,” Willow muttered as she lifted one hand out of the bowl to inspect her wounds. “I loathe cooking…washing, cleaning, ironing and anything that involves a feather duster instead of a sword!”

“I hardly need to remind you that you need to hire some servants,” Faith said gently as she picked up another pot and started to carry it out of the kitchen. “Stop being so miserly with your money!”

“The difficulty lies in the fact that I have never actually had money,” Willow mused as Faith returned. “So the thought of spending it seems abhorrent somehow.”

Faith grabbed Willow by the wrist and examined the burns on her fingers. She then looked back up at Willow with a no-nonsense expression on her face. “Either spend money or suffer more burns and more upset stomachs!”

Willow frowned. “I haven’t had an upset stomach…have you?”

Faith propped one hand on her hip. “You didn’t hear me retching all night after your roast chicken? I swear to god, Will, you nearly killed me!”

Willow sighed. “I guess I could look into hiring someone-”

“Someone?” Faith interrupted. “You need more than one for a place as big as this!”

“You need a cook at least,” another voice joined in the protest and both Willow and Faith turned towards the kitchen door to see Lara enter. “Or I promise that I will never accept an invitation to dine at Gordon Square.”

The Museum Director had traded her normally dark and sombre garments for a light, airy white dress that softened her entire countenance and made her seem far younger than her years, almost a girl. Her hair was also freed from its usual stern plait and hung loose about her face. Willow couldn’t help but be reminded why she used to feel hot flushes in Lara’s presence.

“Greetings, gorgeous one,” Faith said. She lifted her eyebrows in surprise at the sight of her lover and her attire.

Faith crossed the distance between them to take Lara in her arms and deliver a rather passionate kiss while Willow could only stare at what was not happening between her and Tara. She eventually looked away as the kiss went on for what she felt was a little longer than necessary. However, even as she lifted the last pot to carry it out of the kitchen, she couldn’t help but keep glancing at them with a sigh on her lips. Finally when she returned, Faith had drawn back, though only slightly, and there was a broad smile on her lips.

“I didn’t realise Director Croft was making house calls today,” Faith purred playfully, leaning in for another quick kiss.

“I’m actually not here for you,” Lara admitted. “I’m here for Willow.”

Faith held Lara at arm’s length and glanced over her shoulder to Willow, “Not what I was expecting to hear. Is there something going on between the two of you that I do not know about?”

Willow tried to look as innocent as possible and lifted her hands as if to deny all knowledge of anything between herself and Lara. The last thing she wanted was to wake up to find a jealous Faith standing over her bed with a loaded crossbow.

“Nothing that you should worry yourself about,” Lara reassured her. “Besides, Willow isn’t exactly my type. She is entirely too skinny.”

In response, Willow glanced down. Most of her body was concealed beneath a bulky apron that she had found hanging behind the kitchen door. It had belonged to the previous cook and she’d had to wind the ties around her waist twice. Still, she had to admit that the arms that protruded from her rolled up shirt sleeves were on the scrawny side. Just last week she’d been forced to put another notch in the leather straps on her breastplate in order to keep it firm and snug against her body. There was definitely no denying that she had lost weight in the face of the stresses in her life – perhaps she could blame a little of it on her cooking. She found herself without an indignant remark to say to Lara in reply. Instead she just shrugged. Faith’s nod of agreement did not help matters through and she scowled.

“Do you mind giving Willow and I a moment alone?” Lara asked her lover. “I’ll meet you upstairs in your room in a few minutes.”

Faith brightened considerably and there was a wicked gleam in her eye. “I don’t mind at all. It’ll give me time to strap ‘Monty’ on.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Lara responded with another kiss and Faith practically ran out of the room.

Willow cocked her head to one side with her nose wrinkled in her confusion. “What’s a ‘Monty’?” she asked Lara as Faith’s feet thudded up the stairs.

Lara smirked and took a seat on the corner of the table. “Umm, you might want to ask Faith when you’re feeling adventurous one day…and you’ll have to get your own.”

Feeling none the wiser for Lara’s cryptic answer, Willow believed that the Director was making fun of her. “Adventurous, you think I’m not adventurous? I would definitely say that I am an adventurous person. For heaven’s sake, I fight vampires and demons for a living. I enjoy a jolly good adventure as much as the next person…”

“Willow,” Lara said quietly.

When the redhead stopped and saw the serious expression on her face all thoughts of the mysterious ‘Monty’ were banished and replaced by her concern for Tara. “You’ve spoken to her?”

Lara’s nod caused Willow’s heart to stop in her throat as she waited for further exposition. She had not expected Lara to fulfil her promise so soon.

“I’ve done all I can,” Lara continued. “Now it’s up to you.”

“I have to talk to her?” Willow ventured uncertainly.

Lara shook her head. “No…just listen to her. These past few months I think you have done your fair share of talking, explaining what has happened to her. All entirely necessary of course, but she needs time to tell her own story first…the story that is foremost in her mind,” Lara tilted her head slightly to one side before she continued. “She wouldn’t tell me…but I could sense that it pained her greatly. Willow, I must admit that I am worried that you will not be able to listen to her.”

“It is Tara,” Willow replied simply, as though that were enough of an explanation. She was confident that whatever Tara had to say, she would be able to listen…in fact, she was certain of it.

Although she thought that there was more advice Lara could offer, Willow was impatient to be with Tara. First and foremost she was ashamed of herself for being guilty of ignoring Tara’s needs. A part of her had been convinced that if she could just tell Tara what had happened, everything would be alright. She had not stopped to consider that there were things she needed to hear first. There were no further words needed between her and Lara Croft. She nodded her thanks and made to move past her in the direction of the stairs. As she did, Lara stopped her with a gentle touch on her arm. When Willow stopped she found herself drawn into Lara’s firm embrace. At first she felt a mild sort of panic at being in such close proximity to the breasts she had admired for so long, but gradually she accepted the reassurance for what it was and allowed herself to sink into the welcoming arms for just a moment.

As Willow ascended the stairs she realised that she was somewhat terrified. It was not Tara herself that she was scared of. The quiet blonde was hardly a threatening figure (except when she was a vampire), what she was terrified of was somehow failing at this task and alienating Tara forever. Although she had no reason to think of it as such, in her mind she viewed this as her last chance to break through the walls Tara had constructed around herself. With each step and each creak of timber beneath her feet, she drew closer to one of the most important conversations of her life. She glanced down at her attire and realised she still wore the over-sized apron. Hastily, Willow undid the ties and dragged it off, tossing it over the side of the banister. The shirt and pants she was left standing in were hardly more presentable. Willow shivered slightly and stopped in her room only long enough to get a woollen sweater. She continued towards the room at the end of the hall, deliberating keeping her strides small and slow. Finally, after she could draw out the walk no longer, she found herself in front of the door. She lifted her knuckles and knocked gently.

The response was almost immediate, Tara spoke in a soft voice that barely travelled through the door, “Come in, Willow.”

Buoyed somewhat by this, Willow entered the room and found it a little lighter than the darkness she usually encountered. The curtains were drawn back and one window was even opened to let in a small breeze. One thing had not changed; Tara was still perched in her usual seat beneath the window. Willow hesitated slightly, not knowing where to sit. She tossed up between taking a seat at the other end of the window seat or on the bed; neither option presented an easy choice. The window seat seemed too close to Tara and the bed too far away. She finally chose the window seat but was sure to pick up one of the cushions and hold it on her lap like some sort of shield.

As Willow sat, staring down at the pillow in her lap she gradually realised that, unlike each of their previous interactions, the silence between them was almost comfortable. She found herself able to glance up at Tara and stare for several seconds. Once Tara even caught her gaze and held it before they both drew away.

Almost fifteen minutes passed in which neither Willow nor Tara said a word. While Tara remained seated primly with her ankles neatly crossed, Willow kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet up beneath her. The pillow she was using as a shield had since been discarded.

When Tara finally spoke her voice was like the first few notes of music at the opening of a concert, “Please allow me to beg your forgiveness?”

Willow sat up a little straighter, almost leaning forward. “But there is nothing I must forgive you for!”

Tara turned and regarded her through her liquid gaze, “I fear there are many things that I have done…many things that I ought to offer penance for, and yet they are things that I know nothing about,” she paused and drew in a shallow breath. “Tell me Willow, please, how do I ask forgiveness for things I do not remember doing?”

“Simple,” Willow replied in a whisper. “You don’t…you’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve never done anything wrong in your life.”

Despite the intended reassurance implicit in her words, Willow saw immense sadness in Tara’s eyes. It was the kind of sadness that would threaten to rip your heart out if you let yourself get drawn into it. However that was exactly what Willow wanted. She wanted Tara to let her in, to share what she felt. More than anything, she needed to know each of the thoughts and emotions that were running through the blonde’s head. If she could just understand, then she could try and help her but she needed to know first.

Before Tara spoke, she wanted to be able to reach out and press her fingers to the back of her hand - any small touch to at least give her a sense of contact. However, she merely managed to twitch her fingers in Tara’s direction before leaving them resting on the pillow next to her. As much as she wanted to touch Tara, she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it - not yet anyway. Willow bit her lip, pleading with herself to be patient.

“I did do something wrong, Willow” Tara eventually admitted. “I turned my back on the woman I loved and I destroyed my life by choosing to marry…” she struggled to force his name out but in the end she simply spat, “him.”

“You had no choice-” Willow began quietly.

“You do not need to lie to placate me,” Tara interrupted. “I could have turned my back on my family and fled to live out the rest of my life in peace and happiness with you and yet I chose duty. You have no idea how painful my choice was…”

Willow wanted to interrupt, to tell Tara that it had been just as painful for her to be separated from the woman she loved. However, she kept her lips shut and did just as Lara had said - she listened. Tara cast her head downwards once again as she continued.

“I thought I knew what kind of man I was marrying. I knew he was cruel and vile…and yet I did not know the half of it,” Tara paused to take a breath, when she let it out her whole body shuddered with some awful thought. When she turned to look at Willow her eyes were wet with tears. “I did not realise that one man could be so heartless, that one man could inflict so much pain on someone he had vowed to protect and cherish. Every night…from the first…to right before my death…every night he came to me and took me with a brutality I did not think even he was capable of.”

The intensity of Tara’s words shocked Willow. Even if she had been capable of speaking, she would have been able to think of nothing to say in response. Instead she watched as the moisture that had been welling in Tara’s eyes finally gave way. Two fat tears snaked down either cheek and dripped down onto her lap. They continued to fall in a steady stream but Willow could neither wipe them away nor offer a handkerchief.

Tara continued even though her voice was clogged with tears, “It was brutal - to go from the touch of a gentle and considerate lover…to someone who thought only of his own lust and need for dominance. He didn’t need to strike me to force compliance, he was my husband, I would have done everything he asked of me even though it repulsed me. Just the thought of him laying his hand on me was enough to paralyse me with fear…and he hated that, he hated that I lay as still as stone while he satisfied himself. He hated it so much that he started to hit me, I cried and that only angered him further. I never knew what he wanted.”

For the love of god…please stop! Willow cried inwardly, she had to fight to keep tears of her own from falling, her lips trembled with the immense effort that this required, I can’t sit here and listen to this…I just can’t…

Yet it was what Lara had told her to do…listen.

So while Tara continued, finally able to give voice to injustices committed over a century earlier, Willow could only sit and listen. She listened to the sufferings of the woman she loved and by the time she had finished, Willow was glad Edward Walsh was long dead otherwise she would have take her sharpest sword and sliced his manhood off and then his head, regardless of who was watching.

When she glanced down she saw her hands were both balled into white-knuckled fists of anger and frustration. Frustration at the fact that Edward had been able to use Tara in the way he had and there was no question of him being able to get away with it, it had been his right. Where had she been throughout Tara’s suffering? She had been cloistered away at Hagley Park feeling infinitely sorry for herself and angry at Tara for making such an awful choice.

Tara explained how Edward had finally driven her to leave that night in Austria. With her dress already torn from his anger; she had dashed out into the night without caring what might befall her. Although her memories of the attack were little more than fleeting recollections, Willow could tell that she had welcomed death’s freedom even though it came through the violent and painful act of a monster.

Tara’s voice finally trailed off and after a few minutes to gather herself together and wipe away her tears with the sleeve of her gown, she glanced up at Willow. Willow met her gaze, but only long enough to see the expectation inherent in her eyes. Willow didn’t know what Tara expected her to do…to hold her, comfort her…or say something in reply. What could one say in response to such pain? I’m terribly sorry you had to live through that but you did choose him over me? Willow felt the tears finally begin to fall, but they were not tears of sorrow. Rather they were tears of rage that matched her balled up fists.

It was too much…everything was too much. Willow fought to hold herself together for the few moments that it took to escape from Tara’s room but she failed. As she ran out of the room she let out a gasping sob. She ran the short distance down the corridor to her room and slammed the door shut behind her, not caring that the jarring sound would reverberate throughout the entire house. Once inside her anger and frustration led her to pace about on the rug in the middle of the floor, unable to decide her next move. As she paced past her dresser, she dashed out her arm and swept everything that sat atop it to the floor. Her jug and pitcher, a few bits and pieces, her hairbrush and a bottle of perfume Abraham had given her all crashed to the floor.

Willow was immediately assaulted by the intense smell wafting from the pool of perfume on the floor. She remembered when Abraham had given it to her, a year before she met Tara. She had worn it throughout their relationship and now it was gone, destroyed by her rage. With another sob, Willow backed away from the mess on the floor until she felt her bed pressed against her legs. She sank down to the floor and pressed her back against it. It seemed as though a year had passed since her playful banter with Faith in the kitchen that morning over boiling pots of water. She would have preferred to face every household chore ever invented instead of Tara’s confession.

A few moments later there was a hesitant knock on the door, “Will?” It was Faith, no doubt disturbed from her ‘playtime’ with Lara. “Is everything alright?”

No, it’s not bloody alright! Willow raged, placing her head in her hands. That bastard raped my beloved and I did nothing to help her. I wasn’t there for her. She was immediately assaulted by the awful image of Edward Walsh tearing at Tara’s clothes, stripping them away so he could paw roughly at her naked flesh - flesh that Willow had always caressed so tenderly. With a groan of pain she slammed her head against the side of the bed, trying to clear the images from her mind even as she imagined him taking her.

“Why did she have to tell me,” Willow whispered to herself. “She could’ve kept it to herself, bottled it up and never let me know…I didn’t need to know!” Later she would realise that her rational self would never allow Tara to force herself to do such a thing but at that point, with such awful thoughts raging in her head, she couldn’t think like that.

There was another knock. “Will…I’m coming in.”

The door handle began to turn and Willow glanced to her left, she saw a boot she had taken off the night before and seized it. She then threw it against the door with all the strength she could muster.

“Goddamit Faith!” Willow yelled. “Leave me the bloody hell alone!”

“Don’t be ridiculous…” was Faith’s immediate response, but the door did not open.

“Piss off!” Willow growled. “I don’t want to see you, or Lara…or anyone!”

In the silence that followed her shouts, Willow could tell that Faith was still standing outside the door. However a few minutes later she heard Faith’s bare feet padding back down the hallway to her own room. Willow eventually lifted herself from the floor but it was only long enough to make her way down to the cellar to find herself something to drink. She made her way back to her room with a bottle of whiskey and tried to drink herself to the point where the images would stop and she could sleep.

Finally, with half the bottle sitting uneasily in her stomach, Willow wrapped herself in the bed covers and drifted off into a fitful, nightmare ridden sleep.

~~~~~~

Although Tara had seen Willow struggle to maintain composure throughout the time in which she spoke, the liberating feeling of the weight of her memories gradually lifting from her own shoulders compelled her to continue. It was too late that she realised that the slender redhead, as strong as she was, was having difficulty coping with what she was saying. Tara didn’t blame her, the memories of what Edward had done to her were so covered in filth that she had difficulty giving voice to them even though they had occupied most of her thoughts during the months since her reawakening.

After her voice finally trailed off at the point in her story where she had died, she dragged her gaze up to meet Willow’s, prepared to face the revulsion that she might find. She waited, just hoping that Willow was strong enough to listen to her words and yet still be able to offer her the comfort she needed. A few moments later, it became painfully clear that she was not. Willow lost her struggle and collapsed into sobs as she ran from the room. Tara let her go…she knew she should have prepared Willow for what she was about to say, yet she also knew that if she had stopped or taken a pause, the words would not have come.

She remained sitting at her window seat, staring out at the street as the afternoon slipped by, then evening came as the light grew dim…and finally night. Without much conscious thought as to what she was doing, Tara left her room. She was suddenly overwhelmed by the need to get out of the house after so long spent within its walls. The corridor was dark and silent, the air thick and heavy - as though the house reflected the mood of its occupants. She slowed as she passed Willow’s room before she broke into a sudden run and continued down the stairs, unable to leave fast enough. She paused only long enough to grab a coat in the hall before she dashed out into the night once again.

This time however, Tara carried Willow with her for it was her coat which she had taken, and her scent lingered even as her feet carried her further away from the house on Gordon Square.

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Willow Van Helsing...saving the world since 1777 │ Van Rosenberg II - Lord of Ice and Shadow

Dibs

Wow.....that was pretty harsh. I wish Willow could have consoled Tara a bit. But, her reaction was totally understandable.

Now I wish Vamp Tara would have kicked Edward's arse just a lil bit more in VR1. He didn't suffer NEARLY enough.

Lol @ Faith, Lara and "Monty".

Long stories are the best. I will be with you until this journey ends.

I really love it.

Well... that was sorta awful.

I'm not sure who I feel worse for, Tara or Willow, & these two are carrying around more than one lifetimes worth of guilt & issues galore literally.

Tara running out into the night is never a good thing, have we learned nothing yet? I do understand her need to just be away... away from the house she has kept herself exiled in, away from Willow, away from it all. Sometime putting physical distance from certain situations does help.

Just as I can understand how horrible it must have been to listen to what Tara went through was for Willow. There was nothing she could do about it then & certainly nothing now but the sense of helplessness doesn't go away. We always want to help & protect the ones we love & she could do neither.

*sigh*

More?... Soon?

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Heather aka vampyregurl73 aka Riverwillows73

My stories:
"Dry Heat – In Progress (still)" "Penny Arcade - Completed"

My Fic Challenge entries:
"Fireworks" "Promise" "I Did What Last Night?"

Yay for great update-y goodness... I'm glad that Tara told Willow what happened to her.... Running into the night is not Tara's best decision but really hope she comes back before anything happens...

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We Few, We Happy Few, We Band of Buggered

Posting while nude improves your mood...

Dearest Just Alcy -- Oh, you know, I remember when I first read this, Tara's whole conversation made me physically ill. And even though I knew what was coming, it did the same to me once again. The absolute hell she went through all for the sake of fucking duty. Hate it, hate it, hate it. I'm a little conflicted though, because I know what Willow had to force herself to sit there and listen to just ripped her insides out, yet I'm so glad Tara got it out, and hopefully it will help her some. I still can't help but wish that there would have been some hugs and comforting of each other, because they were both so in need of it, but their relationship is such a mess right now, that just couldn't happen. I just wanted to reach right in and hug them both.

Willow trying to drink away the horrors Tara told her about, and the shame, I guess, among many other emotions, that WVH was feeling sorry for herself while the woman she loved was going through all that, I know was a very poor idea. Oh, if they could only turn back time. Wait -- can they? Oh, that would be awesome. Tara admits she chose wrong and wishes she would've ran away with her and they would've lived happily ever after.

Okay, you promised me they won't suffer long, so I'm going to hold you to that. Please hurry, because this nauseated feeling is just...unpleasant.

Did I mention how glad I am to have you back?


Wimpy

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Pam aka Wimpy0729
Restlessness ~ Quickies - The Lovers, The Dreamers & Me

"There was plenty of magic." ~~ Tara

I just want to check in to say I'm so happy this is back. I'm rereading the first story now.

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Menorah Tales | Working It Out | Random Bits

Grimm: Congrats on the dibs!

It was most definitely, unapologetically harsh. I think that Willow’s anger at having been helpless to save Tara all those years ago was very palpable. To be faced with an account of what happened would have been torturous to say the least.
Having Vamp Tara leave Edward alive was a difficult decision. On one hand it would have been extremely satisfying for her to make him suffer. However I think the fact that she refused to kill him for the sake of her humanity was a valid one.
Thanks so much, Grimm.

vampyregurl: Sorry about the awfulness. I guess it was important to be able to sympathise with both Willow and Tara equally as opposed to one having slightly more issues than the other.

I think Tara’s flight was very much about putting physical distance between herself and the house, but yes, as we all know very well, it’s never a good idea to run out into the night. Trust me when I say this situation will resolve itself nicely. Thanks for the feedback!
zampsa: No, it was definitely not one of Tara’s best decisions, but hopefully it will work out for her.

wimpy: I think Tara’s conversation was difficult to write originally. It definitely wasn’t all that pleasant to redo it, but I suppose it is meant to be like that. Unfortunately nothing is ever easy so we can’t have hugs and comforting straight away (this isn’t that sort of fic as you know!).

Turn back time? I think if we do anymore time jumping or memory spells it may blow my poor little brain. I think we’ve now reached the point where they have to sort out the mess themselves and get their lives to a point where they can live them happily. I think there will always be scars, but it is the extent to which they let those scars impact on their lives that determines the healing.
Thanks, wimpy!

Deb:Hey, wouldn’t be a party without you! Thanks so much for dropping in and I hope you enjoy your re-reading of Van Rosenberg (Whilst ignoring all of the punctuation errors!)

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Willow Van Helsing...saving the world since 1777 │ Van Rosenberg II - Lord of Ice and Shadow

Double post. Chapter is below...

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Willow Van Helsing...saving the world since 1777 │ Van Rosenberg II - Lord of Ice and Shadow

Willow awoke with the unfamiliar and unpleasant feeling that something or someone had deposited their night soil in her mouth. Coupled with this, there was an insistent and repetitive pounding within her skull that would not cease even after she rolled over and pulled a pillow over her head. As the pounding continued, she finally realised that it wasn’t in her head at all. It was someone, an exceptionally rude and inconsiderate someone, ramming their fist against her door. She sat up with a sudden start and then felt a sudden rush of nausea and dizziness flood her body. With a groan, Willow slumped back against her pillows in an effort to halt her rising need to vomit. She did manage to keep her eyes open however and saw that it was still the middle of the night; she had left her curtains open and only a weak light from the street outside filtered into the room.

Obviously ignorant of her suffering, the pounding on her door continued. Willow tried in vain to ignore it in the vain hope that whoever it was would simply leave. However, it soon became apparent that they were hell bent on seeking an audience with her.

“For heaven’s sake! What?” Willow demanded in a tone of voice that left no doubt as to her mood.

Almost immediately, the door swung open and a rather dishevelled Faith entered wearing a robe. Her hair was unbound and unkempt about her face and there was a red smudge on her cheek that looked suspiciously like rouge. Willow propped herself up onto her elbows and saw that Faith’s legs were bare from the knee down, the robe was also open slightly to reveal a bare chest. She snorted as she guessed that Faith would be wearing absolutely nothing beneath the robe. However, the expression that her friend wore on her face was not smug with pleasure. It was altogether quite serious.

Faith moved to the side of the bed and only needed to glance once at Willow’s face, and then at the half empty bottle sitting on the table beside the bed to know what had happened. She appeared far from impressed.

“Willow, you know full well you have no stomach for alcohol. What possessed you to drink half a bottle of something that has probably been sitting in your cellar for almost a century?” Faith growled.

Willow was in no mood to be scolded like a child, and she replied in a rather tart voice. “I’m an adult and I’ll drink if I please! Was there a purpose for your visit?”

Faith sighed. “I thought Tara might be in here with you.”

“Why the bloody hell would Tara be in here with me?” Willow snapped. The mere mention of the young woman’s name was enough to taunt her with memories of their conversation earlier that day. Tara’s words came unbidden into her head and she felt the same helpless anger once again. Her anger dulled however in the face of her pain and she slithered pathetically back down into her bed. “No, I haven’t seen her since we spoke and I ran out of her room rather abruptly and…well,” Willow sighed sadly. “The drinking commenced.”

“Well she’s gone,” Faith replied in a matter-of-fact tone, obviously seeing no point in breaking the news to Willow gently.

“What?” was Willow’s eloquent reply, she once again sat up with a start but this time she was unable to stop the immediate vomit reflex, her stomach heaved violently and its contents would have covered her lap save for Faith’s quick thinking. She shoved a receptacle into Willow’s hands and waited patiently until the retching had stopped.

When Willow’s stomach finally ceased its heaving and her head had cleared sufficiently she glanced down with a grimace at the messy, smelly result of her attempt to drown her sorrows. It was then that she realised the receptacle that Faith had so helpful provided was one of her best bowler hats. She glanced at the headwear and knew that she would never be able to wear it again.

She handed it wordlessly to Faith who accepted it gingerly. “It’s your own fault, you smashed your basin.”

Willow glanced in the direction of her friend’s nod and saw the scattered shards of porcelain across the floor. She remembered dashing the items to the ground in her anger and she felt embarrassed at her loss of control. Stripping the covers away from her fully clothed body, Willow stood slowly to find that she had not even bothered to remove her shoes in her drunken state. She swayed somewhat but managed to stay on her own two feet. Upon a further survey of the damaged items on the floor she knew that the bowler hat had been Faith’s only recourse, both her pitcher and basin had been reduced to hunks of porcelain.

Once standing, with the pounding in her head and nausea in her gut slowly receding, Willow turned her attention back to Faith and her rather unexpected, alarming statement.

“Tara’s gone?” Willow repeated. Even as she spoke she could not remain still and waste time, she crossed to her wardrobe and withdrew a dark jacket and a small selection of weapons. “Are you positive she is not in her room? Or anywhere else in the house?”

Faith nodded in reply. “I was hungry after…well, let’s just say ‘strenuous activity’, but upon leaving my own room I saw Tara’s door wide open, a sight I am unused to seeing. Rather than wake you I searched the remainder of the house but could find no trace of her, and your heavy coat is missing from the rack by the door.”

“Your powers of observation never fail to impress me,” Willow remarked as she tossed the jacket on to her bed while she strapped a sword around her waist. With the sword in place, she tugged the jacket on and stuffed its pockets with stakes, knives and firebombs.

Faith did not pause to question her, she knew as well as Willow just how dangerous the night was. “I will accompany you, wait a few moments for me to get something on other than a robe.”

“I cannot afford to waste a second in looking for her, Faith,” Willow replied as she checked her small arsenal. Now that her flurry of activity was over, concern for Tara was foremost on her mind. “She’s alone, she doesn’t know this London at all…oh god, she could be anywhere.”

Willow sagged slightly at this momentous realisation. London was indeed a large city with a warren of streets that would confuse a visitor in moments, especially one as sheltered and naive as Tara. In a split second, Faith was at her side with a firm hand on her shoulder. Even dressed in nothing but a robe she still presented the picture of strength and confidence.

“And the longer you remain here, the more you injure your chances of finding her quickly, stick to the main routes, I’ll take South towards the river, you head West towards the Park. Lara will also be roused to join in the search, and people from the museum will be contacted. We’ll soon have dozens out looking for her, Willow. Trust that we will find her.”

Comforted by Faith’s reassurance, Willow nodded tightly and chose to exit via the window instead of the door; it was after all much quicker. She ignored Faith’s call of ‘we have a front door’ and shimmied down the wall to drop lightly into the street. With her feet on the cobbles, she broke into an urgent run.

~~~~~~

Tara had of course visited London many times in her youth. Young ladies of her class practically lived there during the social season. However nothing could have prepared her for walking the cobbled streets alone, in the dead of night, with absolutely no idea where she was going.

For all her disorientation, she felt very little fear. There was something about the night that felt comfortable. That and the fact that Willow’s coat felt snug around her body. Tara continued to walk, simply relishing the fact that she was once again outdoors after so long spent sitting by her window. By the time she contemplated returning to the mansion, she had lost all sense of direction and she turned around only to find an unfamiliar street stretching out behind her.

To her left was a dark, tree-filled expanse which she guessed to be Hyde Park. Although she knew better than to venture into such a place at night, Tara could not help but draw closer to the majestic oaks which rose up out of the earth and towered high above. It had been too long since she had felt the grass beneath her feet and heard the sound of leaves rustling above her head.

A twig cracked somewhere to her left and Tara froze. However when she turned her head to see a dark shape standing in the shadows, she did not feel as scared as she knew she ought to be. Instead, she calmly turned towards the street and the safety of its lights. She had gone barely a few paces when two more shapes dropped out of the trees above. They landed without sound directly in front of her, blocking her path.

A part of her knew she ought to be screaming and running for her life, but as the pale faced shapes came closer she stood her ground and kept her chin held high. Barely audible footsteps behind her told her that the third one had moved closer. The nearest was a tall man wearing a long flowing coat, and he moved closer still. There was a smile on his lips.

“You do not scream or run. Do you not fear us?” he asked quietly, his voice deep and soft. Following his words he drew his lips even further back into a wide smile, baring his twin fangs. “Or is it that you are too frightened for good sense?”

“You are vampires,” Tara observed with a note of curiosity in her voice. She cocked her head to one side and studied the two in front of her closely.

The two in front of her looked at one another with bewildered expressions, as though wondering if their prey was in her right mind.

As they seemed confused by her actions and slow to move, Tara found herself remembering the night she had died. The same pale faces shining in the dark. The same sharp fangs. On that particular night they had plunged into the soft flesh of her neck. Tara remembered the sharp, agonizing pain that had originated in her neck and then been sent coursing throughout her entire body as the life was sucked from her.

Although her memories ceased with the darkness, Tara instinctively knew that her physical form had somehow become one of these monsters that stood in front of her. Her body went cold and she shuddered to think of doing what these creatures were now doing - stalking the night searching for helpless victims upon which to feed. Blood…they feed on blood. Tara shivered, sickened at the thought and yet there was an undercurrent to her revulsion. It was as though she knew what it was like to crave the feel of warm blood surging down one’s throat, to watch with satisfaction as it pumped from the dying body of a victim.

It was at that point that Tara realised she did not fear dying. What she did fear was becoming such a terrible creature…again. She backed away slightly from the two in front of her, but a quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that one was still behind her. She fumbled in the pockets of Willow’s coat and her hand wrapped around a slim object. When she withdrew her hand, she found a length of wood lying in her palm. The sight of this object earned a laugh from the tall vampire in front of her.

“Look! It thinks itself a vampire slayer!” he mocked, taking a few steps towards her.

His movement was cautious, as though despite his words he was entertaining the thought that she could be capable of slaying him. However it became all too obvious that Tara had no idea what she was doing as she held the stake limply in her hand. As he came closer, she knew she ought to be doing something with the splinter of wood but instead all she could do was hold it. Into his heart! It needs to go into his heart! She was still simply holding it when he suddenly snatched it from her loose grasp and tossed it into the shadows.

Tara let out a sharp breath as her wrist was ensnared in a vice-like grasp. She was suddenly jerked backwards and her head tilted to one side, baring her neck.

“Let us play with her first!” the woman behind him demanded.

“No!” growled the third in a whiny voice. “I’m starving and she looks sweet!”

Although Tara knew that they were discussing her very fate, she did not struggle. Instead she lay limply in the arms of the vampire who held her, had it not been for his grip on her body she would have fallen to the ground. Again she remembered the moments before her first death and the extent to which she had screamed and struggled against the creature. Despite all her efforts, she had been unable to even loosen his grip such was his inhuman strength. She knew that to struggle now would only incite their pleasure.

“Can’t we at least chase it?” the woman pleaded, obviously not quite as hungry as her companion who professed to be starving. “I need to hear her screams!”

“And risk the chance of attracting unwanted attention?” The one who held Tara growled. “You forget where we are sister…no, it is best we do this quickly and quietly, the vampire hunter stalks these streets.”

I do not want to die again. Tara thought as they argued around her, three voices blending into one unpleasant sound, I am meant to be here…I am meant to be with Willow! As the determined voices sounded in her head, Tara’s fear was gradually replaced by anger until the point that her entire body trembled with an unleashed rage. Her captors merely thought she was scared out of her mind. Vampire’s burn…they fear the flame… Even as the words went through her mind, Tara had no idea where such a thought would come from. A well bred woman would never acknowledge that such a thing as a vampire existed let alone know how to kill one.

This knowledge however was of relatively little use, knowing how to kill them did not help her conjure up fire out of thin air. Thoughts of flames still danced through her mind. In her anger she visualised the monsters burning and writhing in the pain that they deserved. Suddenly, the night around her was made bright by a flame burning at the palm of her hand. The tongues of fire licked at the vampires clothing as he leaned over her body, all too quickly they caught hold and he stumbled backwards. As she fell backwards she saw his eyes go wide with surprise just moments before his entire body was engulfed. Seconds later Tara watched him explode into a shower of hot ash.

His two companions looked on with expressions of shock mingled with horror as Tara lay forgotten on her back in the slightly damp grass. She stared at the scorched grass in front of her. Wary, but, still determined to finish what they had started the remaining two vampires lunged for her. Tara instinctively shrank back, scuttling away in an awkward, crab-like movement that could not possibly take her away from them fast enough. She turned over and only just managed to scramble to her feet before she felt a cold hand grasp the back of her neck and wrench her backwards.

“Unhand her I say!” The voice was blessedly familiar.

The vampire holding her turned just as she did. They both saw a darkly clad shape sprinting towards them. Moments later Tara found herself once again dashed to the ground as her captor freed his sword arm to engage this new, far more palpable threat. It was of very little use, however, the silver blade flashed in the darkness and sliced into his body before he had time even to defend himself.

Tara felt her body flood with relief at the sight of Willow, her red hair unbound and flowing about her body as she moved gracefully on her feet. She did not pause after dispatching the first vampire, continuing to move in a fluid motion to face the remaining one. The female snarled and looked as though she might rush at her, seconds later however she turned and began to flee the scene. She had managed no more than a dozen paces before Willow cut her down with a single broad stroke to her back. Her scream was cut short as her body disintegrated like her companions.

The short but violent combat was over as soon as it had begun and Willow re-sheathed her sword before she turned to walk back to where Tara lay on the ground. The blonde watched her former lover approach, taking in the strange sight of her clad in black, war-like clothes. The steely mask of battle was still on her face and she looked like a different person entirely.

“Willow!” although Tara’s voice was tinged with relief at the sight of the redhead, there was a slight question in her voice as though she wasn’t sure if this person was indeed the Willow that she knew.

“I saw the flames,” Willow offered by way of explanation even though Tara had not asked such a question. She then regarded Tara with a strange expression on her face.

“Who are you?” Tara whispered quietly as Willow continued to approach.

“I could ask the same question of you,” Willow observed with raised eyebrows. “You are not the same Tara that died in Austria.” She then turned and looked towards the patch of scorched grass where Tara’s victim had turned to ash within the fury of her fireball. It was another Tara that had been able to wield the magicks…a Tara she thought was gone. She realised that she truly did not know who it was that sat on the ground in front of her.

Tara lifted her hand and stared down at it as though she still expected to find the flesh blackened by the fire that she had held in her palm. Instead she found the skin pale and unblemished.

“I-I…don’t know,” Tara admitted, still staring at her hand. “I wanted them all to burn…and then there was fire.”

Willow paused as though she was unwilling to approach Tara further. However, a second later she swayed slightly on her feet and eventually had to hunch over with her hands resting on her knees. Concerned, Tara rose to her feet and moved closer to Willow. Tentatively she reached out and placed a hand on her back.

“Were you injured during the fray?” Tara asked, although she had not seen the vampire’s blade get close enough to strike.

Her question was answered a moment later as Willow’s entire body heaved in a violent motion. She dropped to one knee and placed a hand on the damp earth as a small amount of liquid fell from her lips. Her body continued to heave, but nothing more emerged. When it had subsided, Willow tried to stand.

“Nothing so courageous I’m afraid,” Willow gasped. She straightened with Tara’s aid and wiped her lips with her sleeve. “The heady, dizzying effects of intoxication are fast giving way to a roaring headache and my body continues to try and expel that which has been expelled several times over already.”

“Intoxication?” Tara gasped in horror. “The Willow I once knew would not drink to excess…”

“Stay your judgement!” Willow replied testily, she desired no lecture, especially not when the headache was starting to set in. She closed her eyes and pressed both her hands to her temples in a vain effort to curb the throbbing sensation.

“I am sorry…” Tara began quietly.

Willow opened her eyes and glanced across at Tara. She could see that the blonde was confused and scared. The rediscovery of her magical abilities had no doubt left her also wondering just who she was. It was not the time to anger. Instead Willow closed the gap between them, slowly, until their bodies were almost touching. When she made the last step to bring them both together, she exhaled a short, sharp breath and wrapped her arms around the blonde. After the moment where Tara had woken on the plateau of Covasna, it was the first time the two women had been drawn into physical contact. They melded together perfectly as though they had never been parted.

Willow desperately wanted to be able to break down, to draw as much comfort as she possibly could from the embrace but she knew that it was the woman she held who needed as much comfort as possible. She was also acutely aware of the fact that she was drenched in sweat after sprinting along London’s streets in her search for Tara. When she had seen the glow of fire in the distance, a part of her had known it was Tara…even though she believed her powers to have been extinguished along with her demon. There was much for them both to explore and understand, but now was not the time.

It was a good several minutes before the two women drew apart, Willow found Tara’s cheeks shining wet with tears. As she reached out to wipe them away, Tara lent into her touch and nuzzled at the palm of her hand.

“We should go,” Willow said, scanning their surrounding quickly. Despite the sweetness of the embrace, she knew they had lingered too long already. “I’m in very poor shape for hunting tonight.”

~~~~~~

Willow stared down at the tub of icy cold water in front of her. With one, decisive moment, she ducked her face forward and submerged it. Her entire body tingled at the severe shock, it was electrifying to her dulled senses. When she emerged, her face and several strands of hair dripping, she felt marginally better. Rather than bother with her toothbrush, she ate a dollop of tooth powder and rinsed it around in her mouth with more water.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she left the laundry in better shape than she had entered it. She noticed that Tara was sitting at the kitchen table. The blonde had obviously been waiting for her as she stood up and approached.

“It seems…” Tara paused and drew in a breath as she studied the redhead.. “It seems as though I no longer know you Willow Van Helsing…if I ever did. But I think…I think I should like very much to know you once again. Despite your disturbing penchant towards intoxication and slaying fanged creatures.”

“You’re not saying that just because I saved your life are you?” even as Willow’s hopes soared with Tara’s words, she retained a small element of caution.

“No,” Tara shook her head slightly. “I am fairly certain that you still retain some of the most admirable qualities of the Willow I once knew.”

Her voice trailed off as she lent forward, before Willow could quite appreciate what was happening she found Tara’s lips upon her own in the lightest of kisses. She allowed her lips to part slightly as Tara pressed forward to intensify the contact. Again it felt fresh and knew and a small part of Willow’s brain wondered just how it was possible for two people to experience their first kiss more than once. However, the far larger part of her brain was occupied in trying to process the delicious sensations that were coursing from that contact. For another glorious minute they remained pressed together, Willow’s hand clasped the back of Tara’s neck and she trailed her fingers through the soft blonde hair that cascaded down her back.

When they eventually did part, it was with an element of reluctance and they both leaned in for another light brush of the lips before they finally stopped to process what had just occurred.

Tara stepped back and ran her tongue slowly across her lips as though she were still savouring the kiss. In response, Willow felt weaker still at the knees and it had nothing to do with the lingering effects of alcohol.

“One of them at least,” as Tara spoke her eyes danced ever so slightly with mirth.

At that point, Willow felt a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. Although Tara wasn’t quite smiling, it was the start of one. It gave her hope that Tara’s smile would fill her future.

TBC in Chapter Five – Darkness Rising

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Willow Van Helsing...saving the world since 1777 │ Van Rosenberg II - Lord of Ice and Shadow

Dibs? Yay! (does little happy dance)

Progress has been made. Interesting that Tara didn't fear dying, but the thought of being turned again ignited the latent casting abilities. This opens a whole new set of possibilities since when VT died in Austria the demon was removed, if the magic was all based on the demon is anything left behind or was the aptitude always there?

It seems like both Willow and Tara are a melding of the old and new versions of themselves. But there is now more hope, the kiss yields hope!

I also get a kick out of Willow climbing out the window instead of using the door, that amuses me to no end.

Can't wait for the next chapter.

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Heather aka vampyregurl73 aka Riverwillows73

My stories:
"Dry Heat – In Progress (still)" "Penny Arcade - Completed"

My Fic Challenge entries:
"Fireworks" "Promise" "I Did What Last Night?"

Finally!!!

I'm so glad that they are on the path to reconciliation. I know the road will be long. But, this is a good start.

Soooooo, like Willow, Tara is a combination of the person she was before she died and the Demon she was after? Or, was the magic always part of her and just lay dormant?

This story just keeps getting better and better!

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The kitten formerly known as SMGOVAN ~Official Head of Security for the Finey_McFine fan club. Ass whippings will be handed out liberally!

Oh, Alcy, the end still has me reeling. They Kissed! And Tara wants to get to know this Willow. Finally making some headway. (btw, very glad Willow washed her mouth out first. lol)



Just simply wonderful. That made me weak in the knees just reading it. I know it's not the same, but it makes me long for their days of stolen moments, heated kisses beneath the stairs. Oh my, those were amazing.

Like the others, I'm wondering about Tara's magical abilities. I will do my best to be patient until that is explained. She doesn't even know who she is herself, and that is heartbreaking. She just has so much that is strange and new to her, it must be way beyond overwhelming.

I'm so excited to see what happens next!


Wimpy

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Pam aka Wimpy0729
Restlessness ~ Quickies - The Lovers, The Dreamers & Me

"There was plenty of magic." ~~ Tara