Van Rosenberg by Alcy

Rating: PG-13
Uber-Setting: Van Helsing/Dracula/Tomb Raider
Disclaimer: 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: The Mystic Muse: http://mysticmuse.net
Through the Looking-glass
Feedback: Yes please.
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: Diary entries are going to be in italics but hopefully they will not be confused with thoughts as they will be mostly placed at the beginning of a chapter. This fic borrows thematic elements from several sources, most notably Bram Stoker's Dracula and the 2004 film, Van Helsing and structural elements from Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian. The story itself and several of its characters are my own.
Webhost's Note: Special thanks goes to Chris Cook of Through the Looking Glass, MKF and Artemis for the graphics, wallpapers and source coding. Thanks, Chris!
Pairing: Willow/Tara

Summary: The discovery of a diary and the journey that follows will disrupt everything Willow has ever known, including her own identity, and reunite her with a love she never knew she lost.

It had been over four decades since Tara had last laid eyes on the man responsible for the humiliating and heartbreaking period at the end of her mortal life. Although the experience had been relatively brief it was now another scar that Tara had to carry with her, deeply etched into the fabric of her life. As a demon, her marriage held little consequence for her and was forgotten in the face of the larger and more interesting work around the skull…and Willow Van Helsing. Edward Walsh had lain dormant at the back of her mind, resurfacing only when her soul was restored and she was capable of recognizing those memories as being exceptionally painful. Throughout the years spent in her physically and emotionally dark prison, she had used the memories of what Edward had done to her as a form of punishment. She forced herself to relieve each moment, from the gut-wrenching expression on Willow's face when she chose to marry Edward to the merciless manner in which he had forced himself on her every night of their short marriage. It had been effective torture indeed.

Tara was not expecting to find any sort of closure in a confrontation with Edward. Even as she stood on the footpath, staring up at his impressively ornate mansion, she could not decide exactly why she was there. Revenge of course played foremost in her mind. She was a creature of the night, un-dead and possessed with an inhuman strength, more than enough strength to punish Edward for what he had done to her. However, as she stood in front of his home she could not see herself murdering an old man…despite the severity of his past crimes.

Whatever sort of man Edward Walsh had been upon his return from Europe with news of his dead bride, it appeared not to have affected the rest of his life. Tara remembered Giles telling her that Edward was a long-serving and successful, if not universally well-liked, politician. She had never cared for such petty affairs of mortals but from the appearance of his home she had to guess that he had done extremely well for himself. This could not help but stir the bitter pangs of regret in her heart. Obviously Edward had done what he needed to be happy in life…whereas she had chosen to suffer for her family.

There were few lights glowing from the windows of the Walsh residence but Tara remembered Edward as a man who preferred to stay awake throughout the night and sleep through much of the day. She stood gazing up at a second floor window light by the dim glow of several candles and instinctively knew that was where she would find him. Tara concentrated; slowly her body lost any semblance of solidity as she morphed into her incorporeal form. The ability to shape shift was an ability possessed only by the most powerful vampires. For Tara it had been a strange development following her release from her cell, as it seemed to contradict the augmentation of her humanity.

Still, the ability was proving useful, no more so than as she slipped through a slight gap beneath a window and into the room beyond. Her instincts had been correct; sitting at a desk on the far side of the room was none other than Edward Walsh himself. While he was of a similar age to Abraham Van Helsing, the years had obviously been far kinder to Edward Walsh. Despite his advancing age his face possessed none of the haggard lines and sagging skin that had so marked Abraham. The lines etched into his brow were faint and his jowls were plump from a life of good living.

Tara reformed un-noticed in one shadowed corner of the room, content to observe him for a few moments before announcing her presence. He was working steadily on the papers in front of him with a diligence and concentration she had only seen him apply to drinking, eating and bed sports.

His reaction was immediate, his head jerked upwards towards the sound of her voice and as he did so his entire body jerked. The quill he held fell from his fingers and he then sat completely frozen in his chair as he peered into the shadows in which she stood.

"Who is there?" he demanded, his whining tone had changed little over the years.

Tara had to fight to keep her breathing even as she heard him speak, remembering the sound all too well. She knew that he would remember her voice and watched the play of emotions across his face as he struggled to understand how that could be.

When no further words were forthcoming from his mouth, Tara stepped from the shadows and into the glow of the candle. The light was swallowed by her dark clothing but illuminated her pale skin and hair with a frightening intensity. In front of her Edward froze, the only part of him that moved was his furiously blinking eyes as though he hoped she would disappear.

Edward slowly pushed his chair back from his desk and stood on a pair of legs that were shaking due to fear as opposed to frailty. He kept both his hands on the desk in front of him to steady himself. Since discovering that no amount of blinking would make her presence leave, his eyes remained large, almost feverish as he stared at her.

"In the years following your death I expected to be visited by your ghost seeking vengeance," Edward began, his voice growing steadier with each word, "Eventually I believed that you were just as weak in death as you had been in life and I had nothing to fear…I see now that I was wrong. Although if you are here to haunt me you will have a short time in which to do so, I am not as young as I was."

"Vengeance," Tara repeated the word in a stony voice, enjoying the way the word rolled off her tongue but still unsure as to what it meant for her, "I would think that I would be entitled to vengeance after the hell you put me through."

It was at that point that Tara felt the hate surging through her body and she fervently wished she had brought a weapon of some sort to slit the foul coward open before he opened his mouth to debate his role in her death.

"You drove me out into the night!" Tara growled in response. She saw her tone have an immediate effect on Edward as he blanched a whiter shade of pale. "I preferred being alone, outdoors in the middle of the night in a foreign country over being inside, barred in the same room with you!"

"Female foolishness!" Edward managed to snarl. "It was that foolishness which led to your death!"

"I was dead long before that night in Austria," Tara continued. "Destroyed by your cruelty. When I was attacked I was terrified beyond belief…but a part of me longed for my suffering to be at an end!" Little did I know, it was only the beginning…

She moved several steps across the polished floor, purposely creating footsteps that were loud enough for him to hear clearly in order to dispel the notion he had that she was merely a ghost in his presence. His eyes bulged in his head and he struggled to draw in enough air as he began to panic.

"You were an abomination!" Edward shrieked. His voice was reedy and thin through his constant wheezing, "You and that Van Helsing girl!"

"I suppose you think it was treatment I deserved?" Tara asked quietly, remaining calm, refusing to raise her voice. "Tell me Edward, did you find yourself another wife?"

"Yes," he replied stiffly, "My wife has since passed away…but I have three children and five grandchildren."

"Please leave," he demanded, his voice carrying very little authority in his fear, "I know you cannot harm me, you are a pathetic shade, the dead hold no power over the living!"

"The dead hold sway over all!" Tara whispered fiercely before suddenly surging forward as though her feet were not touching the floor, effortlessly she leapt over the desk and reached out for Edward Walsh's throat. His eyes bulged once more as her icy fingers closed around his flesh and the chair was knocked aside as she thrust him roughly against the wall at his back

Edward tried to lash out, to wrestle her weight from his but he found himself up against a physical strength he did not anticipate. "What are you?"

Tara cocked her head to one side, studying him for a moment, enjoying the feeling of fear radiating from him. "You feel my fingers around your throat, Edward? That should tell you that I am not a harmless shade."

"No, my dear Edward," Tara squeezed the leathery flesh at his throat and felt her nails pierce the skin, "I am undead…a state rather different from being dead and one for which you should feel a very palpable fear."

She peeled her lips back from her teeth in a wide snarl, offering Edward the opportunity to get closer to a pair of fangs than he ever wanted to be. He shrank backwards, trying to move away from the unnaturally pointed teeth as though expecting her to sink them into his throat.

"You need not fear my drinking your blood; I would rather drink from a live pig than suck on the foul stuff that runs through your veins!"

"No more so than you…and I will spend the rest of my days atoning for crimes I committed as a soulless demon. Have you atoned for your crimes Edward?"

"You forced yourself on me repeatedly and brutally. Every night I struggled to avoid your fists striking my flesh for the merest transgression, if it is not a crime to treat your wife in such a manner then what is it?" Tara demanded, her voice retaining its quiet tone but taking on a hard edge. Anger boiled in her veins and the demon in her longed to snap Edward's fleshy neck.

Edward's voice was firm despite his fear, as though he were speaking a well-learned mantra. "A woman's duty!"

The carefully constructed wall of control restraining Tara from within crumbled instantly. She released her hold on his neck only to seize him by the lapels of his waistcoat. In one swift movement she picked him up and threw his entire body over the desk. Edward hit the ground like a sack of old bones, crumpling to the ground instantly. Tara followed him, stooping to seize him by his wig before he could attempt to stand under his own power.

As she dragged him upwards, Edward Walsh looked nothing more than a terrified old man staring in the face of his own death…a death at the hands of a monster. In that moment Tara realized that killing Edward Walsh would undo all the effort it had taken her to restore a fragile semblance of her humanity. Although killing him would initially provide some sense of satisfaction and perhaps even closure, Tara knew that in the long-term such an act would do more harm than good. There may still have been a monster inside her, but she could prove her humanity by showing an amount of compassion to a man as despicable as Edward Walsh.

She thrust him away from her, glad to no longer be in contact with his slimy skin. He immediately cringed back against the wall behind him as though he expected a killing blow to come at any moment. Even though none came, he remained terrified, unable to tear his gaze away from Tara's burning gaze.

However frightful her appearance, on the inside Tara felt fragile and emotional. She could only maintain her withering stare in Edward Walsh's direction for a brief moment longer before she felt tears of frustration and pain burn at the corners of her eyes. Clearly she could not remain emotionless and detached in front of the man who had briefly been her husband, not when his image so easily dragged up memories of what he had done to her.

Trying to make the act appear as effortless as possible, she once again shifted in her non-corporeal form with Edward watching, terrified at such a transformation. He was still frozen against the wall when Tara drifted back out the window. She felt Walsh's house as fast as she was able.

Several weeks following her encounter with Edward, Tara was stalking the streets of London in the early hours of the morning. She had to confess that lately all she longed for was a soft bed upon which to sleep but in order to keep up pretences she at least had to feign interest in feeding. She was tired of creeping about in the shadows and this night was particularly damp and unpleasant with a stiff breeze fluttering at her skirts and nipping her exposed skin with its cold bite. Although she usually barely noticed the cold, the wind left her drained and listless.

A single page from a newspaper that had been picked up by the breeze collided with her leg and interrupted her thoughts. Although Tara was not normally inclined to read the usually irrelevant newspapers, for some reason she stooped and retrieved this particular page. Her eyes immediately wandered to an announcement in bold near the foot of the page.

Tara continued reading to find that Edward had died in his office. Investigators had found no sign of an intruder and had ruled out foul play to proclaim his death 'sudden but natural.' She then glanced to the date beneath the headline to find that it was the day following her visit. As she crumpled the paper in her fist and tossed it in the gutter she realized that the news was somewhat anticlimactic. She felt neither relief nor pleasure at the news of his death. It was certainly not the death Edward had deserved but she knew she could never have given him that death. The death that would have led to a much larger, more sensational headline with a story packed with enticing words like 'blood' and 'murder.'

As it was, Edward had died alone with her face the last image in his mind. With this thought Tara was finally able to feel a small measure of satisfaction.

Edward Walsh was dead. Tara decided that she would slip into an empty hotel room and fall asleep, safe in the knowledge that there would be one less face to see in her dreams.

The imposing façade of the recently completed British Museum loomed over Great Russell Street, and in particular over three small figures ascending the steps and passing beneath its neo-classical columns. While a man and woman walked at a more sedate pace, a young girl rushed ahead as only excited children could.

Once inside she knew exactly where she was going, threading her way through the light crowd in the lobby, grinning at an attendant as she made a beeline directly for a door marked 'employees only.' The door had closed behind her before either adult had a chance to catch up, or offer her some wise words of caution. They followed, the man holding the door open for the woman. She smiled at him as she passed as one did when in love. Despite the advancing years of the man, the grin that followed made him seem youthful and spirited. He carried a sizable bag in one hand with apparently little effort.

Up ahead, the young girl had reached the employees only floor and was happily making her way through the staff going about their business. No one stopped to question the twelve year old on her business, instead many greeted her warmly.

"Well if it isn't young Lara Croft," a white-coated man with a white beard to match asked, his teeth shining just as white, "How are your Latin conjugations coming along?"

Twelve year old Lara immediately made a face in response, "The subjunctive imperfect is giving me a frightful headache."

He laughed and she continued on her way, almost breaking into a run when she saw her destination in the distance. She entered the employee's library, a place far more fascinating than any other she had ever visited and in the pretext of looking for Rupert Giles, her eyes roamed the shelves of books. The fact that she did not call out for the librarian indicated that she was not overly bothered whether she found him or not. She drifted towards the shelves laden with books, her hungry eyes roaming over the titles on the thick spines. Every so often she paused to reach out and stroke a particular book, running her fingers over the embossed leather with an expression akin to rapture.

Lara Croft drew back her fingers as though she had just been burned and spun on her heels in the direction of the voice. When she saw who had spoken she had to blink a few times to confirm exactly what it was she was seeing. Emerging from the shadows between two of the stacks was a young woman, clad entirely in black from the floor to her throat. Her long pale hair framed a pair of blue eyes which shone even in the library's poor light.

Normally exceptionally quick to reply, Lara was confused. This stranger did prompt her to react with the reluctant obedience and forced politeness that she normally resorted to in the company of adults. She managed to suppress the strange fear the woman's presence stirred within her and responded with barely concealed insolence, testing the woman to see how she would react.

Much to Lara's surprise the blonde woman did not immediately chastise her; instead she did something far worse. She continued to stare at her with those piercing blue eyes, as though she was seeing straight past the expression she wore and through to what she was thinking. Lara felt decidedly uncomfortable beneath such intense scrutiny. Had she been less bold, she would have torn her gaze away to stare at her feet.

As she stared back at the woman she realized that there was something exceptionally unusual about her. At first Lara had merely thought her pale, but her skin was actually verging on being translucent. Her hair was so pale a shade of blonde that it might as well have been white. Before the woman could reply or she could ask another question, Lara heard more footsteps in the library. She turned and immediately wrinkled her nose, her parents had joined her.

Jeremiah Croft glared in at his daughter with an expression that was supposed to be disapproving; however he merely appeared mildly amused. Before he could channel his disapproval into a scolding, he glanced beyond Lara to see a familiar face, one he had not seen for a long time.

"Tara!" he exclaimed like a giddy schoolboy, "You have not changed one iota since I saw you last!"

He quickly let go of the bag he was holding and picked up her proffered hand. As he bent to lay a gentle kiss on the back of her hand he glanced up at her with a twinkle in his eye, as though deciding that was not the greeting he wished to bestow on his old friend. Instead he embraced Tara warmly and kissed her gently on one pale, cold cheek. When he stepped back there was a red flush to his own cheeks.

"Neither have you," Tara replied, faint traces of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Jeremiah's grin was blatant as he patted his slightly rotund belly, "It is kind of you to say…but it has been almost fifteen years."

"Closer to twenty…you were still a bachelor the last time I saw you," Tara commented, well aware of the others in the room, the shy woman standing nervously just behind Jeremiah's shoulder and the young girl with whom she had already had the dubious pleasure of trading a few words.

"Yes!" Jeremiah said excitedly, as though he had forgotten the most important event that had happened in his life since he last saw Tara, "It all makes for a rather funny story really…I had just delivered a paper to the Royal Society, it was splendidly received of course but in the midst of all the scholarly veneration, surrounded by grey haired old gits, I suddenly realized that there was still one thing in life I had neglected to achieve – marriage and children!"

"And naturally you could not leave something like that unachieved," Tara added conspiratorially.

"Of course not!" Jeremiah grinned, "So I marched up to Charlotte, who was the daughter of a very good friend and asked her if she would very much mind marrying me…right in the middle of the reception…and much to my surprise she agreed on the spot."

Charlotte smiled shyly and nodded in agreement as Jeremiah gave her a quick squeeze around the waist.

"The old fool was too blind to notice…I had been making eyes at him for years, dropping all the appropriate hints and making excuses to be with him," Charlotte was softly spoken but her voice was tinged with humor and more than a little good-natured teasing, "He was exceptionally lucky that I have always been a very patient woman."

Tara held out her hand with a small but warm smile on her face. After a moment's hesitation, Charlotte reached out and took it in her own, if she was surprised at just how cold Tara's hand was then she did not let it show on her face. Instead, she returned the smile. In the relatively short period of time that had passed, Tara had already decided that Charlotte was the perfect woman for Jeremiah. While her attire indicated that she was a woman of simple tastes, she possessed a radiant natural beauty.

"And you have already met our daughter, Lara…" Jeremiah nodded towards the dark-haired girl.

Jeremiah's daughter appeared to be at an awkward stage in her development. While it was very clear that one day she was going to be lithe and as exceptionally beautiful as her mother she currently possessed a set of gangly limbs and both her eyes and her lips were too big for her face. She was staring up at Tara with an expression on her face that reminded Tara all too well of a young Jeremiah with his curiosity in full flight. Tara was waiting for the entirely inappropriate question that was bound to follow. However, young Lara remained content to stare brazenly, obviously fascinated.

"Charlotte, Lara, this is a good friend of mine…and Giles's…Tara Maclay. She has been…abroad for a good many years."

"Ah…we also have a son," Jeremiah interrupted his daughter, placing a warning hand on her shoulder, "Archie, rather proud of him actually, he is doing exceptionally well at Oxford."

All three members of the Croft family were staring intently at Tara. Jeremiah found himself reverting back to when his was sixteen and his pleasant memories of a youthful infatuation with the vampire. The resumption of his infatuation was aided by the fact that she had not changed at all in the years since he had last seen her. If Tara found the Croft's scrutiny unnerving, she did not let it show.

"Um…" Jeremiah stepped forward between his daughter and Tara and struggled to find an appropriate reply other than the truth. It was clear that the girl was not content with the simple introduction her father had offered in stating little more than Tara's name.

"My apologies," Tara broke the silence recognizing both the needs of her guests and the fact that Jeremiah obviously did not want to have to answer his daughter's questions, "I have been out of civilized company for so long I have forgotten my manners…can I offer you tea?"

"I would love nothing more but Charlotte and I are off to Egypt for a month or so and Giles is always kind enough to watch over Lara whenever we go abroad…he takes his duties as a grandfather very seriously," Jeremiah answered, glancing quickly at his pocket watch. "Our ship departs in a few hours, might I be able to impose on you to watch over Lara until his return?"

"It would not be the least imposition," Tara responded with a wary smile in Lara's direction. She already suspected that the young girl was more than a handful for Giles.

Charlotte stooped to embrace Lara warmly, when she pulled back she rubbed at an imaginary spot of dirt on her cheek, "Sweetie, you will be on your best behavior as always…and promise me you will desist with your constant questioning?"

Lara merely nodded perfunctorily, not seeming the least bit concerned that her parents were about to leave her for an unspecified amount of time. She actually appeared impatient for them to be gone, as though she could not wait to be alone with the mysterious friend of her father's. Both her parents bid Tara a warm farewell and then they were gone. Lara sighed with relief when the library door closed behind them. She loved her parents dearly but they were so dreadfully stifling with rules and whatnot. At the age of twelve she felt more than old enough to accompany them on their far flung adventures but they would hear none of it, and insisted on bundling her off to stay with Giles.

When she was younger, she did not mind these arrangements in the least. The thought of travelling great distances by boat and train had held little appeal and she was far more content to explore the Museum. As she grew older however, she began to realize that the museum's treasures came from somewhere else, places far away and she began to long for those distant shores.

Still, as she glanced back towards Tara, she began to think that this particular stay might be a little more interesting than the last. The pale woman was regarding her with a strange look, as though she were not quite sure exactly what to do. Lara on the other hand knew exactly what she wanted – to find out more information about this strange yet compelling woman.

"There are more than a few things I do not understand…like you for instance, you say you're an old friend of my fathers and yet you look barely older than me." Lara commented on her observations with a suspicious frown on her face, "Just how old are you?"

"I look good for my age," was all Tara was prepared to say. Lara's disappointment manifested in an angry scowl but she tactfully steered any further conversation away from herself. "You must spend a great deal of time with Giles…do you wish to become a librarian?"

"Good lord no, how dreadfully boring," Lara replied quite sagely, "I have already decided that I shall attend Oxford…Archie has promised to put in a good word for me. After graduation I shall travel the world, raiding tombs and uncovering all the mysteries of the ancient world!"

"I wish you well in that goal; from experience I know that there are many mysteries…" Tara had to cut herself short as she felt a wave of dizziness accompanied by a hot flush surge through her body. For someone who barely felt temperature, it was an unnerving experience.

She was forced to lean on a nearby reading table to keep from falling over as young Lara looked on with a worried frown on her face.

"I-I'm not sure," Tara replied awkwardly. She had no idea what was responsible for the sensations coursing through her body. At first she thought perhaps she might be under attack, a spell of some sort cast over a distance. She glanced across at Lara, worried that she might be at risk. "Stand back."

However as time passed, even when she was forced to close her eyes, Tara began to realize that what was happening to her was not a bad thing. The feelings throughout her body were not foreign, they were all too familiar. A fragrance met her nostrils, one she remembered despite the passage of time. She closed her eyes and lost herself to the wave of emotions and feelings that told her without a doubt that Willow had been reborn.

When Tara finally opened her eyes she managed a smile of reassurance in Lara's direction. She then looked towards the door to see Rupert Giles entering with an armful of packages. Although he also had not seen her for a good number of years, there was no surprise on his face when he saw her standing in the middle of his library with young Lara Croft. If he too knew what had just taken place, then it did not show on his face.

"Ah, I see you have met my finest and most attentive student…well, at least attentive when it suits her," Giles commented, placing his packages down on the nearest table. He addressed Lara, "I believe you will have some studying to do while I catch up with my old friend?"

Lara looked as though she might refuse but eventually she retrieved several books from the bag her father had left and retired to a study table. With her back turned, the two adults were free to talk in hushed tones.

"The Rosenberg's live in India; I believe the father is in the army…" Giles began.

"Rosenberg?" Tara repeated the name, it sounded horribly unfamiliar to her lips. However she quickly realized that it was foolish of her to think that Willow would be a Van Helsing. She tried the name again, "Willow Rosenberg."

She desperately wanted to pester Giles for more information about the family, the sort of people they were but she knew he would not answer all her questions for the very simple reason that he did not want her to know. Tara sighed quietly, knowing that it would require an inhuman amount of patience to remain apart from Willow's new life.

"So it begins," Giles commented, glancing over his shoulder to see Lara quickly duck her head as though she had been straining to listen in on their conversation. He turned his attention back to Tara, saw the expression on her face and realized he needed to get her to concentrate on something other than Willow…for the next few decades at least.

"Yes." Tara paused for a moment until Lara was buried in her books once more, or at least pretending to be. "I need a copy of the Morte Grimoire; can I pretend to have stolen yours?"

Giles smirked at the odd sounding phrase, "Of course…as long as I am able to steal it back before someone causes some serious damage. That book contains some powerful magic."

"You do not need to remind me, Giles," Tara replied with a trace of annoyance in her voice.

He nodded and went to fetch the Grimoire. As soon as Giles disappeared into the stacks, Lara's head glanced up from her books. Confirming he was indeed gone, she hopped off her chair and skipped casually to Tara's side with a hopeful smile on her face.

"You will stay and help me with my Latin…won't you?" Lara asked eagerly. "Please?"

Tara's eyebrows lifted in surprise as she wondered just what it was that she had done to make this child crave her company. A small part of her did want to be able to stay, to have nothing more to worry about save helping a twelve year old conjugate Latin verbs.

"I am afraid my Latin is very poor." Tara explained gently, unless you want to weave dark magick…a skill I am sure Giles would not want me to show you, "When I was your age girls were not allowed to study Latin…or much of anything save embroidery and tea making."

Lara's lips opened in a perfect, outraged pout. "That's positively barbarous!" she declared indignantly.

Tara could not help but smile in response. The young girl had spirit, definitely reminding her of a certain redhead who at this time was once again a squalling infant. However she knew she could not stay, it would not do for her relationship to Giles to be discovered. Not yet anyway. "I am afraid I have important business to attend to…but I am sure I will find occasion to come to the Museum again soon."

"Please do!" Lara clapped her hands together enthusiastically; there was a distinct twinkle in her eyes. "I love Giles immensely but he can be so exceptionally strict at times, I have no doubt that you would be more fun."

Tara arched an eyebrow at Lara's assessment of her as being 'more fun' than Giles. Given that she had shown absolutely no inclination towards 'fun' of any sort during the short time Lara had known her, she wasn't sure how the young girl had come to that conclusion. She was however able to appreciate the significance of Lara's decision, realizing that she had just added to the rather small number of people she was able to call 'friends.'

"Well, I have no doubt that the 'fun' will commence with my next visit," Tara offered helpfully. She surprised herself when she extended her hand towards Lara for the young girl to shake. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

It was at that point that Giles returned with the book Tara had requested. He frowned at the rather pleased expression on Lara's face before a well placed nod sent her scurrying back to her books. When he glanced back to Tara he saw a strange look in the vampire's eyes and knew exactly whom she was thinking about.

"You will promise to stay away from her won't you, Tara?" Giles cautioned. He kept his voice extremely firm as he knew just how strong the connection between the two of them was, "It will do her no good to feel as though she is being watched…and it will do you no good either."

Tara appeared stricken for a moment before she managed to compose herself. "She'll need protecting…if Dracula should learn…"

"He doesn't," Giles said firmly. "No doubt that will remain the case throughout her childhood but if he does learn of her birth, you will of course be the first to know."

She nodded, Giles as always was a voice of reason. His face changed slightly, almost as though he was giving her a reassuring smile. She accepted the Grimoire with a relieved expression on her face. Whatever sort of relationship existed between the two of them, at the very least there was trust.

Tara left the British museum with a strange feeling coursing through her body. Normally she avoided crowded streets and public areas, especially in the day. She preferred to remain in the shadows, on the fringes of society. However on this particular day she felt compelled to remain in the midst of the throng that walked Great Russell Street, even allowing herself to be swept along towards a small park just across the road from the museum. She settled herself on a vacant bench, content to watch people stroll through the park and feel the sun on her face.

It took her a while to realize exactly what the emotion surging through her veins was, but when she thought about it for a moment Tara realized that she was actually happy. When she left the bench to continue on her way, she was secure in the knowledge that the world was a far richer place with Willow in it.

More than anything, Lara Croft hated being an object of other people's pity. This feeling was exacerbated by the fact that she had spent her life being as self-reliant as possible, travelling alone whenever possible and remaining unmarried even as she turned thirty. She preferred to be alone…or at least she had spent most of her life convincing herself that was what she preferred.

She had overheard gossip of course…museum patrons and sponsors, busy bodies with too much time on their hands and little sense. Since her appointment as Director three years earlier, the gossip had not ceased…it had only become more wildly speculative as she refused to give them any information. What puzzled them all the most was the obvious fact that the Director was undoubtedly a stunningly beautiful woman who could have her pick of eligible men, both handsome and wealthy.

That much was true; Lara had had many suitors over the years but she had turned them all down without batting her magnificent eyelashes. The fact that she was not undesirable should have given her some satisfaction but Lara had never cared for such trifles. She had long felt that the number of men who wanted her was entirely unimportant…but it was the number of women she wanted, and couldn't have, that occupied her thoughts more recently. The realization that she was attracted to women did not overly bother Lara Croft, what did bother her was that it meant she could no longer convince herself she preferred to be alone.

The accident in Australia six months previously had made the situation even worse in terms of pity…and women. Last week Lara had reluctantly hired a new field agent for the Museum. It was a relatively simple act, staff were hired frequently…but this particular appointment hit Lara like a slap in the face. She was replacing herself.

She had hired the new employee based solely on reports of her work and her credentials but she was now wishing she had laid eyes on the woman first. All the practical skills and field experience in the world could not make up for the fact that the woman was an ill-disciplined rogue with no respect for authority whatsoever. She was brazen, tempestuous, uncouth and worst of all…she was the most beautiful woman Lara had ever had the misfortune of laying her eyes on. Her name was Faith Winters.

Lara watched her now from one of the balconies in the employee library as she listened to Giles delivering an induction speech. Even from her perch high above, Lara could see the obvious look of boredom on Faith's face as Giles droned on about the Museum's illustrious history. Clearly standing in one place and listening to others talk was not Faith's preferred occupation. Beneath the tight fitting clothes she wore, every inch of her body appeared tensed and ready for action. Lara shut her eyes tightly but she could still see Faith's generous breasts straining against the white shirt and leather jacket she wore, her cleavage clearly showing in an entirely inappropriate manner.

When Lara opened her eyes once more, she was mortified to find the young woman staring straight up at the balcony, as though she had confirmed her suspicions that she was being watched. Giles was still droning on, oblivious, but Faith's expression had changed from one of boredom to shouldering excitement. Her lips parted slightly in a knowing smile.

As soon as Lara felt the first wave of heat flood her body she made a hasty retreat…as hasty as she could manage in her wheelchair. Although Giles had designed a chair in which she could propel herself rather than suffer the indignity of being pushed, it was still awkward. She made her way from the balcony and into the private elevator that led directly to her office. As she slammed the door across and jabbed the button she let out an angry snort, disgusted with herself for allowing Faith to get to her. Moments later the elevator ceased its whirring and stopped at her office, even before she slid the door open she could see Cordelia Chase poised at her desk, waiting to pounce in case she needed something.

Her secretary was already at the elevator door before she could say something, sliding it open for her.

Lara made a quick 'shooing' motion, "I am quite capable of managing a door thank you, Cordelia."

"I am sure you are," Cordelia replied smoothly, indicating that she did not agree with Lara's statement, she held open the door to Lara's private room and ignored the angry expression on her employer's face.

Something inside the office caught her attention even as she held the door open….the room was not empty. Standing in one corner was a pale blonde woman. Cordelia frowned; she had not let anyone through the door.

"Who the devil are you?" Cordelia demanded in outrage, she turned quickly to Lara as she moved through the door, "I am terribly sorry Director Croft, I could swear no one had come in here…and I have not left my desk all morning."

"It is quite alright, Cordelia," Lara replied with a curt nod, "The visitor is expected."

With another angry frown, Cordelia departed and closed the door behind her to leave Lara alone in the room with her mysterious visitor. She propelled her wheelchair slightly closer so she could see her more clearly. It was obvious that Tara Maclay had not changed at all since their last meeting; even the clothes she was wearing appeared to be exactly the same.

"You were not expected," Lara said quietly, a trace of warmth in her voice, "But you are still very welcome…and long overdue for a visit I might add."

Tara inclined her head slightly in apology, "You will understand the reason for my absence."

Tara crossed the room until she was standing just in front of Lara; she studied the chair and then looked back up to Lara's drawn, tired face. Her concern was clear in her expression.

Lara shrugged as though it was all of little concern, "After so many years of thinking myself indestructible…it finally became apparent that I am not."

Without prompting, Lara reached to lift her skirts away from her legs. She pulled them up to reveal that her left leg had been badly mauled, almost beyond recognition. The wound was clearly recent, still partially unhealed and the scars in the flesh were deep and red. Tara immediately dropped to the floor in front of Lara, without asking permission she reached out her pale hands and tenderly laid them on Lara's torn flesh. She felt Lara wince but did not remove them.

"No…a very ordinary, non-demon crocodile, in goddamn Australia," Lara replied through gritted teeth, she drew in a quick breath, "Lovely country…"

"The damage to the muscles is extensive," Tara whispered as she gently probed the injury.

Tara ignored her friend's bitter statement altogether, knowing that it had arisen from an understandable pain and frustration. She continued to probe at the wound, tentatively reaching out with her magicks to delve within Lara's body and see the extent of the damage. Tara drew in a reluctant breath, although she could not afford to give false hope, she also could not sit back and watch Lara suffer without at least exploring the possibilities.

She glanced up at Lara and saw that the brief examination had given her a faint glimmer of hope already.

"I cannot promise anything and I must warn you my magicks are…tainted…you may feel extremely unpleasant, if not physically sick." Tara paused as though reconsidering her offer, she could no longer meet Lara's hopefully gaze. "I am sorry…I do not know if it is worth the risk…"

Tara suddenly felt warm hands grasping one of her own. She looked down at them to find Lara's hands wrapped around her fingers, squeezing tightly.

"Please try," Lara whispered with a slight catch in her voice. "Any risk is worth it. You have no idea how frustrating it is to be confined to this goddamn chair."

Tara was able to meet Lara's gaze once more, she nodded once and then closed her eyes. As she drew on her power she immediately felt the taint of it. Before her soul had been returned the taint had held no consequence for her, however subsequently she felt it coursing through her veins like thick, muddy water. She felt Lara shudder slightly and knew she felt it too.

Working as quickly as possible, Tara visualized the injury on an internal level. She concentrated all her power on repairing what had been severed. As time went by she felt Lara's spasms increase steadily and she heard small whimpers that gradually became cries of pain. The time came where Tara had to choose between continuing to work on the injury and doing Lara permanent damage of another kind. She held on for as long as possible before abruptly breaking contact as she felt Lara sag beneath her touch.

When Tara opened her eyes she found the scars were still present, perhaps lacking a little redness, but just as deep and awful. A broken sigh escaped her lips and for a moment she could not look up and meet Lara in the eyes.

Eventually she did. There was a thin sheen of sweat covering Lara's face and neck as though she had just run a great distance. However her eyes were bright and alert and there was a small smile on her face.

Lara reached out and placed her shaking hand on Tara's shoulder. Then, with an obvious amount of pain she rose to her feet and straightened unsteadily. Tara stood in tandem with Lara so she could continue use her shoulder as a support. Once confident on her own feet, Lara lowered her hand and made agonizing but steady steps towards her desk on the other side of the room.

"I am truly sorry that I could not do more, Lara," Tara whispered as she watched Lara cling to the edge of her desk for support, "If I had come sooner…"

"Well…" Lara drew in a deep breath as though trying to reign in her disappointment, by the time she exhaled she was able to manage a small smile, "I would have written, asking you to come but you don't exactly keep a fixed address." She removed her hands from the desk and turned to face the blonde vampire, her smile remaining. "Tara, I can walk…I may not ever be able to climb mountains again…or go back to Australia and teach that bloody crocodile a lesson…but I can walk, and that will have to be enough for me. Thank you."

Tara nodded even though her disappointment on Lara's behalf still registered on her face. She knew the adventurous life her friend led would now have to end. It was a crushing blow for a woman who truly felt alive only when she was pushing her body to the limit.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened. She turned and saw Rupert Giles striding into the room. Lara turned also and any challenge she may have been about to make died on her lips when she saw who it was.

Giles paused just past the threshold into the room, his gaze darting left and right as though he did not know where to look, to greet Tara or to express his amazement at Lara standing under her own power. His decision was made for him a moment later when she suddenly swayed. He darted forward, both hands reaching out to hers.

With Lara settled on the settee, Giles was able to turn his attention to Tara. He could count the number of times he had seen her over the past twenty years on the fingers of one hand. Each visit had been brief, a mere perfunctory meeting with the sole intention of passing on information. He studied her for a few moments but it was hardly necessary, there was nothing about Tara that had changed over the years. He saw the same flawless beauty and lithe grace, the ever sad eyes and unsmiling mouth.

"I see you and Lara have had time to…catch up." Giles commented, quietly amazed by the vampire's magic prowess. "But I do not think that is the sole reason for your visit."

Tara was hardly fazed by Giles's desire to move straight to business and forgo any polite conversation. "As much as I enjoy Lara's company, it is not. He knows Giles."

The three simple words were enough to drain all color from Giles's cheeks. He removed his glasses and began to scrub at them furiously with the cuff of his shirt.

"How much does he know?" Lara asked, glancing worriedly at Giles who seemed too flustered to speak.

"Enough that we should be very concerned." Tara's voice was tightly drawn, as though she was trying to keep herself from conveying emotion. "Although he said nothing at the time, I am beginning to believe that he sensed her rebirth…albeit far fainter than you or I, Giles. He has carried his suspicions with him over the years, suspicions that are growing in intensity with each passing year…he has sent several of those closest to him out to search for her, including me."

Although Tara did indeed know that Willow had been reborn, she had very little idea as to where she actually was. She had kept her promise to Giles that she would not interfere in anyway…as difficult as it had been. Her frustration at having to rely completely on Giles to keep Willow safe was clearly evident.

When Giles finally replaced his glasses, he looked straight at Tara, "None have come close to finding her…I spent several years with the family when they first returned from India as a tutor to her brother. Upon his death I established myself as her mentor and have remained in contact over the years…her safety foremost on my mind. When she graduates from university, she will take up a position at the museum."

"But until then, Giles?" Tara demanded. "The walls of a university will not hold back those trying to find her!"

"I agree," Giles replied quietly. "This is why we have no choice in what we must do next."

An hour passed as the three worked through their plan, the finer details were ironed out, everything laid out to the last letter for if anything were to go wrong, it would be Willow Rosenberg's life at stake. With everything ready for the next step, Giles said goodbye to Tara just inside the back entrance to the museum. Although the two of them were far from friends, there was empathy there. Giles could see the pensive expression on Tara's face, that there was any expression there at all meant that she was deeply concerned indeed.

"You know you will not be able to remain with your own kind when this is all over…you will truly be an outcast," he commented quietly.

"Please don't," she interrupted, "It could take many years…I will think about such matters when this is all over." Tara then drew in a breath, finally feeling that the time was right to ask the one question that had been foremost on her mind throughout the day…not to mention the preceding decades, "How is she, Giles?"

Giles pursed his lips reluctantly and did not reply. However just as Tara thought that he would say nothing at all on the matter he smiled slightly, "She is just as beautiful as she ever was…although…different."

"Does she remember anything of her former life?" Tara tried to keep the desperation from her voice…but failed.

Nothing, Tara told herself, feeling her head thumping like a piece of lead in her chest. She did not quite know what she had expected Giles to say; she had hardly expected Willow to be reborn knowing exactly who she had been…and who she had loved. Although Tara had at first felt crushed by this realization, she slowly came to see it for the blessing it was. Willow did not remember dying…or the circumstances of that death. The more she dwelt on this, the more she realized that she was actually daring to hope that they could at least be friends in this life…if not more. Her heart fluttered fiercely.

Don't be bloody ridiculous you fool! Tara berated herself, drawing in a deep breath. This is precisely why you enchanted Willow's mirror…so she will remember the life she lived…remember what you did. She'll never love you again…

"Nothing can compromise Willow's safety…absolutely nothing." Giles said fiercely, his eyes burning as he said the words. "You must promise to do everything you can to ensure that she stays safe! She is more important than you or I."

"I understand." Tara nodded curtly as she drew up her hood and headed out into the dimming light of dusk.

As she walked away from the British Museum, Tara knew that the task she had been given could destroy everything she had worked towards since her ensoulment. The painstaking task of building and maintaining her humanity could be wiped away in an instant. She squared her shoulders and kept Giles's parting words foremost in her mind.

It was hardly difficult. Even in her darkest hours, Willow had never ceased to be the most important element in her life. Without Willow, she could not exist.

Unlike her first visit to Bran Castle many years earlier, Tara no longer felt the need to prostrate herself before Dracula, Lord of Vampires. As she marched towards his throne, she felt very little fear…only tiny slivers at the nape of her neck that could not be helped. However high in Dracula's favor she had risen, she could still be brought crashing downwards.

He was, as ever, shrouded in darkness as he sat atop his mighty throne in a relaxed pose. As Tara came close enough to see him clearly she saw he wore only a finely tailored shirt. One bare leg was resting up over the armrest as though he were a drunk merely playing at being lord. His hand, complete with immaculately manicured nails, rested on his knee. As she approached, his pose shifted. He placed both his feet together on the floor and leaned forward as though anticipating the pleasure of her company.

Tara drew up just short of the throne and nodded haughtily, her only concession to acknowledging his power. As she lowered her gaze her eyes flicked over the shape tucked against one corner of his throne. The brief glance was more than enough for her to see it was a completely naked, terrified young woman. The sight of her almost caused Tara to lose her composure. Her green eyes were wide with terror in the midst of her pale face. Long red hair fell in tangled strands, almost covering her heaving breasts but not quite. Her resemblance to Willow was almost enough to transform Tara's glance into stare, a stare that Dracula would undoubtedly notice. Tara brought herself quickly under control.

In a split second she had forced her attention back to Dracula's handsome visage and away from the redheaded woman. The expression of pure disdain on her face did not waver.

Dracula grinned and his own gaze flickered down to the woman. "You are just in time to partake in a special treat I know you will enjoy!"

He leapt down from his throne and seized the young woman by her hair, dragging her to her feet with an exclamation of delight. Tara maintained her expression as he pinched and prodded at her supple flesh, his delight heightening as she tried to squirm out of his grasp.

"My Lord," Tara interrupted him just as he bent to take one of her heaving breasts into his mouth. "There are matters which are far more deserving of your attention at this time…I have news you need to hear."

"Bah!" he spat, "What news can possibly compare to the flesh of a nubile beauty…come Tara, she tastes like fresh honey…no doubt her blood will be just as sweet."

"Willow Van Helsing has been reborn," she spoke in a flat, toneless voice but it had all the effect she needed.

He froze for a moment before suddenly thrusting the girl backwards. She fell from the dais and landed heavily on her back, lying dazed as Dracula marched down the steps towards Tara. He stopped just inches from her face, his dark eyes shouldering.

It was a photo of Willow taken a few months earlier. She passed it to Dracula without looking at it. He was not to know that she had already spent too much time staring at it and had committed every aspect of it to memory. Even now, if she could close her eyes she knew she would be able to bring up that exact image, everything from the way her hair sat around her face to the unmistakable twinkle in her eye as she grinned for the camera. Even Tara knew it was not customary for people to grin for photographs…but Willow had.

"Proof indeed," Dracula muttered, absently tossing the photograph to the stone floor.

It took some effort for Tara not to follow the fluttering progress of the photo as it fell to the ground. Although she had memorized the image of a smiling Willow, she desperately wanted to tuck it back into the bosom of her dress, close to her heart. Instead it fell into the dust at her feet and was ignored.

"My Lord?" Tara was concerned by his apparent lack of interest. "She is the key to the skull…we need to decide a course of action."

"And we will," Dracula replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. He glanced to the floor where the young woman had fallen to find her gone. His gaze jerked upwards and sliced through the darkness to see her struggling with the heavy door at the end of the hall. "First though, we shall enjoy sport together…I have missed this immensely, just you and I, fucking them and then sucking them dry…I was in the mood for a young man today but I knew you would prefer a woman. Does my choice please you?"

"Immensely," Tara replied, even going as far to run her tongue over her lips to satisfy him. Inwardly however, she was searching for ways to avoid what she knew was going to happen next.

Tara glanced over her shoulder and uttered the simple spell which sealed the door shut. "It would hardly be much of a hunt."

Tara turned and headed towards the other end of the hall. She tried to look as though she was closing in on the girl with some enthusiasm but the real thoughts running through her mind were all the ways in which she could help the girl escape and still maintain her favor with Dracula. Even with her mind working overtime she could think of nothing…nothing except how long it had been since she last sank her teeth into real human flesh.

The girl did not run, perhaps she knew it was pointless. She did however beg. Tara was forced to look into her green eyes, eyes which were begging for life.

She seized the struggling girl by her hair and wrenched her head backwards, exposing the full length of her pale neck. Tara was transfixed as soon as she saw the vein throbbing beneath the skin. Knowing the Dracula was watching her intently; she swiftly sank her razor sharp teeth into the soft flesh. As soon as the skin punctured she felt the warmth flowing into her mouth and down her chin. As the woman struggled against her firm grip, Tara felt her own heart thud with the thrill of the kill. When it all came down to it…she was still a vampire.

Tara drew back and saw the mess in front of her; the girl sagged in her arms, her throat a bloody, torn mess. Unable to stand staring at what she had done, Tara dragged the girl back to her master and gratefully thrust her into his welcoming arms.

Thankfully, once lost to his lust, Dracula ignored Tara's reluctance to participate. He stripped the shirt from his body and thrust the stupefied woman backwards against the cold wall.

With his attention fully focused on the young woman, Tara turned away from Dracula's naked form as he pressed her back against the wall. She could not however silence her terrible screams. Such screams would have once been music to her ears…but now they stabbed her soul with piercing shards of agony. Her whispered apology to the woman counted for absolutely nothing, it was murder…and she was allowing it to happen.

Allow it to happen was all she could do however. As powerful as she was…Dracula was the Lord of Vampires and had been so for a millennium, he would snap her neck like a twig before she could begin to think about unleashing one of her fireballs to engulf him in flames. However, she would not allow herself to excuse what she was doing; instead she forced herself to suffer the screams as though it was she, and not Dracula, who was savaging the young woman.

Tara listened to his insatiable rutting for what seemed like an eternity before she heard him finish in a sound her ears knew well…too well for her own sanity.

"I will send William and Angelus forth to seize her," Dracula announced suddenly, obviously having given the matter some thought throughout his sport.

Tara turned and stared directly at his naked back as he dipped his head for one last drink from the now dead woman's neck.

"I disagree, Master," Tara replied firmly, "The information will not be on the surface to be drawn out via means of torture…a more subtle approach will be required…an approach I think would be best suited to one of her mortal acquaintances…a friend if you will."

As he stepped away from the body of the young woman, her lifeless form slumped to the floor. Dracula then unleashed a mighty sigh as he stretched, arching his back with some gusto. He turned to face Tara, the blood covering his naked body glistened dully in the poor light.

"So you suggest we should…bide our time?" he asked, cocking his head to one side with interest.

Tara nodded, "I believe that Rupert Giles is as yet unaware of our knowledge…it would be to our advantage to ensure that this remains the case, at least until the location of the skull is rediscovered."

"Agreed…you will watch over the vampire hunter," Dracula announced. "Provided I can trust you to perform that small task without falling back on any of your old habits? I don't want you killing her…it would not be conducive to finding the skull."

"Understood," Tara replied, this time she bowed low, wondering if he could hear her heart thudding violently in her chest. She forced a grin onto her face as she glanced back up at him; the tip of her tongue flicked out to lick some of the blood from her lips. "My Lord, might you permit sport of another kind…a well greased passage never ceases to yield information."

Dracula clapped his hands together with satisfaction, "I am immensely pleased that Van Helsing did not ruin you when he restored your soul…if anything, I think I like you even better with one. You know all of this is evil…and yet you do it anyway, splendid!"

Tara forced herself to continue smiling even though it was beginning to physically hurt. "My thoughts exactly" Stupid cock-sucking asshole "Now, if you will excuse me, I have another redhead to stalk."

She turned to leave his presence. With her back to him she ached to be able to flee as fast as possible but knew that the slightest movement out of the ordinary would ruin everything. Tara forced herself to walk slowly, although she could feel his eyes burning into the back of her head. Each step was an exercise in controlling her fear.

At the sound of his voice, Tara immediately stopped walking. She did not turn around, instead turning only her head so he could see her face in profile. "Yes, Master?"

"As you know I am very patient…but even my patience has a limit. Find the skull."

"Yes, Master." Tara repeated. She tried to inject an element of fervor into her voice but her tone came out dull and flat. When no other commands were forthcoming she continued on her way, trembling with each silent footfall.

In the midst of her fear Tara remembered the photograph of Willow lying in the dust at Dracula's feet. She felt her heart sink at the realization that there was no safe way to retrieve the precious item. Still, it was an item that would constantly serve to remind her that she had chosen Willow's life over that of the unfortunate victim.

Once outside the great hall, Tara immediately dissolved into her misty form. She then fled the castle as fast as possible, not stopping until she was at a distance where she felt safe enough to curl into a tight ball and cry tears of shame and regret.

The only problem was that she could find no tears to shed for the girl she had helped murder. Tara did not cry, but she did feel sick to her stomach. For she had no doubt that even the purest, most complete soul in the world would not change the fact that she was a demon…now and always.

Willow blinked. As her eyes came into focus she immediately wrinkled her small nose at the sight of Giles leaning over her…a little too close for comfort. She placed a weak hand on his chest and propelled him backwards. It was hardly a shove but he took the hint and gave her some breathing space.

"I'm fine, Giles!" Although Willow was exhausted she managed to sit up under her own power. However her hands went straight to her head as the room began to spin. It took a few deep breaths before everything began to return to normal. "I have got to stop experiencing past lives like this…there should be some sort of warning label on spells like these, do not use more than once or you'll go utterly insane. Giles, am I insane?"

Giles stared at her for a few moments as though giving her question serious consideration, "No more so than usual."

"Have you any thoughts regarding what you were just shown?" Giles asked quietly.

Willow snorted in disgust, "Dracula's naked body is an image I could do without!"

Fighting back any further blunt retorts, Willow swallowed uncomfortably. Of course she had thoughts…too many to count and all equally disturbing. If she closed her eyes she knew that all she would see nothing but images of a broken body lying in the dark cellar beneath Gordon Square.

Willow drew in a deep breath; she could not bring herself to say the vampire's name. "She said she wanted to bring me back because Abraham told her I would know where the skull was…Giles that is impossible. I was most definitely and very completely dead when Abraham did whatever it was that he did with the skull. How in the frilly heck am I supposed to know where it is?"

Giles uncharacteristically shrugged, he then removed his glass and rubbed them on his sleeve. Willow sighed as she realized that, for once, Giles did not have the answers.

"I am not certain now either," Giles admitted. "I thought that by giving you all the information you would…well, I do not quite know what I was expecting…but I have to admit I was hoping you would come out of it knowing where to find the skull."

"No, I am merely being impatient…lately I have been dwelling on my own life and its finite nature, thoughts that I should not be wasting my time with…perhaps in a week something will come to you, after you have had the time to process the new information," Giles offered, "And in the meantime I will continue to work on the spell."

Willow glanced quickly up at Giles, feeling rather annoyed that he would chide her for not remembering where the skull was when he had spent the better part of several hundred years trying to find a way to destroy it. She thought better of saying something to that effect and settled for something a little less inflammatory but no less disgruntled.

"I don't want to ruin what sounds like a stunning plan Giles…but can you not just leave the skull wherever it is?" Willow asked as though it was the most obvious question in the world. "Dracula hasn't found the damn thing in the last hundred years, so what would make you think he'd ever find it?"

"Lovely chap," Willow commented, remembering with a grimace the strikingly handsome vampire that she had come so close to defeating.

"And you know full well he will never stop searching for that skull," Giles continued, not amused by Willow's comment.

"If he also believes that I know where it is…why does he not come for me?" Willow asked, unsure whether to be excited or terrified at the prospect of facing the Lord of Vampires once again…the Rosenberg part of her wanted to flee to the far side of the world and hide under a rock. "Surely the old boy would not be bothered by a spot of torture…I don't have a very high pain threshold, I'd be blubbering like a baby if he tried to pull my fingernails off…"

Willow glanced down at the worn and cracked little nubbins that were all that remained of her fingernails. As ugly as they were she decided that she would rather have them than none at all.

"You should know the answer to that question." Giles said sternly. He finally rose from the floor, doing so slowly as though his limbs were stiff. As he stood he gently retrieved the memory cache from its spot on the floor between him and Willow.

Willow bit her lip and continued to stare at her fingernails, Giles's tone reminded her of the time when he had been her brother's tutor. She then deliberately chewed at her longest fingernail to avoid answering the question, anything to avoid acknowledging her involvement. When she finally did look up at Giles she saw an expectant expression on his face.

Willow looked as though she had just swallowed an extremely bitter pill, an expression that very quickly gave way to anger when she realized that Giles was not going to let her off addressing the point at hand.

"And continues to do so," Giles added quietly, unperturbed by Willow's outburst.

"Fine…I do not want to talk about it," she muttered with an air of finality, "Let's just say that I accept the fact that you're worried about Dracula finding the skull…so I'll find it, I don't know how but I will…is that good enough?"

"No…but it will do for now." The already deep furrows on Giles's brow deepened, "Willow, are you alright?"

"Yes," Willow replied in a voice she hoped was convincing enough to avoid further interrogation.

She then forced herself to banish all thoughts of the blonde vampire from her mind, every aspect of Tara's memories made her sick to the stomach. Even though she had seen it in her mind, Willow was still having difficulty accepting the fact that her brother had imprisoned Tara for years. Abraham had always been such a gentle soul…the fact that he had been consumed by his hate was a truly painful discovery. She could not judge her brother. It was a discovery that caused her to search her own heart and wonder if she too was capable of such evil. She remembered the depths to which she herself had sunk following Tara's death. Abraham had been the steadfast rock anchoring her to life and sanity. He restrained her from murdering Edward Walsh in cold blood…and loved her too much to allow her to kill herself.

As she stared at Giles she mulled over the brief comment he had made earlier about the finite nature of his life. She had not dwelt on it at the time it was said, and now found it hard to imagine her life without his presence. It was a thought that she very quickly dismissed as being entirely ridiculous. Giles had already seen her die once and no doubt he would see her die again. This odd thought led her to another…she wondered how he coped with generation after generation of friends and family dying around him. Willow had seen more than enough of death in her two, relatively short lives…but Giles had seen so much more. An odd thought struck her, she wondered if Giles had ever been in love. It was much too difficult a question for Willow to even contemplate asking at that moment…if at all.

"I will continue to work on the spell that will destroy the skull…it is difficult…but I do know that it must be destroyed at Covasna," Giles added in Willow's silence, almost as an afterthought. He then turned to place the memory cache safely in the middle of a nearby table.

In turning his back on Willow, Giles remained oblivious to the dark cloud that passed over her face at the mention of that place. Her eyes dulled and her lips trembled violently until she clamped her mouth shut, biting down hard on her jaw to keep the tremors from returning. Although she was sitting directly in front of Giles, watching him place the idol on the table, the chill running through her entire body made her feel as though she was alone on the plateau. You're not at Covasna, Willow voiced inwardly, You're safe and warm in the British Museum…you're not there…you're not there… With some effort, Willow wiped the pained expression from her face just in time for Giles to face her again.

"Well that is just asking for trouble isn't it?" Willow commented breezily, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Giles nodded slightly in agreement, "It is far from the most pleasant spot on earth."

Willow suddenly felt as though the walls of the library were hemming her in. Whereas moments ago her body had been chilled, she now felt as though the tiny flames that burned on each of the surrounding candles were emitting a tremendous amount of heat. Even Giles's usually reassuring visage seemed grotesque and threatening. She had to get out.

"If you don't mind…my brain is kind of haywire, I think I might go and pummel a training dummy," Willow slowly rose to her feet, testing both her legs to see if they functioned normally. "Or I'll find Faith…she might actually stand a chance at beating me in my weakened state."

Willow did not wait for Giles to protest at her sudden desire to engage in physical activity. She left the library as quickly as possible while at the same time trying to appear as though she was unconcerned by what she had just learnt. In truth, Willow was concerned.

She paused along the corridor, some distance from the library and had to lean her back against the wall to steady herself. Her breath came quickly, as though she were panicking. Willow closed her eyes in an effort to calm herself and slow her heartbeat down a little but all she saw in the darkness was an endless plateau covered in skeletons.

Willow was beginning to realize just how unnatural her reincarnated life truly was, she would have no choice but to return to the place where she had already died.

It had surprised Willow just how easy it had been to strip all traces of her existence from the tiny flat in which she had dwelt comfortably for five years. Five years spent working at the British Museum, mostly confined to her basement office without the slightest inclination to venture out into the dark and dangerous walls that lay beyond its walls. Five years ago everything had seemed so exceptionally normal. Willow could not believe how quickly such an ordered, quiet life could be turned inside out and back to front.

Upon seeing her flat empty and bare of the mostly ephemeral possessions that she had accrued over the course of her life, Willow realized that it had never really been more than a place to sleep and eat occasionally. She had carried out both activities just as frequently at the museum.

It was only when she once again found herself at the foot of the stairs leading up to Gordon Square's front door, this time with a bag in each hand, that she realized she truly was home. There had never been anywhere else that could truly be considered home…except of course Hagley Park, but that home belonged to another time altogether, a dream world really.

While she had been staying at Gordon Square following the incident with the mirror and the subsequent flood of memories of her past life, she had difficulty considering herself as more than an intruder. As she now entered with her bags in tow she felt as if she were being welcomed home. It was as though the house somehow knew that she had decided to embrace her past life, to walk in the footsteps of Willow Van Helsing. Everything felt right, her coat rested neatly on the rack by the door, the portraits and dark furnishings in the parlor no longer sent shivers down her spine and she looked forward to being able to sleep in her own bed.

The only trace of sadness that she did have as she ascended the stairs towards her room was the fact that the house was otherwise empty. She supposed that she would need to employ at least one servant to maintain such a large house. While considering this, she balked at the thought of paying for such an extravagance on her museum salary but she had to admit that the company would be more than welcome. Perhaps I can ask Croft for a raise… Willow mused as she picked up her two small bags and began toting them up the stairs, After all, she's sleeping with my best friend…I'm sure that entitles me to some sort of favoritism.

Thoughts of a hefty raise were unfortunately replaced by ones of Lara and Faith in bed…naked. With a grimace Willow did her best to erase those interesting but thoroughly unwanted images from her mind.

When she entered her room she felt a renewed sense of peace, the bed appeared soft and inviting even though it was barely late afternoon. With some relish Willow dumped both her bags and decadently decided that she would postpone unpacking them. Instead she reacquainted herself with the room, running her fingers lightly over every surface close by. She touched the dresser, the cushions of the window seat, the posts of her bed and eventually the ornate, silver framed mirror that seemed to dominate the large room.

She had deliberately stayed clear of its reflection. After her last unnerving experience, she had no desire to disappear within its depths again. However, despite her fear, there was something about it which drew her in and compelled her to look even though she was wary of its hidden powers.

Today it appeared quite normal. It showed her an exact reflection of her room, as a mirror should. I wonder if I should move it out…into the attic, someplace where I don't have to see it everyday… Even as the thought crossed Willow's mind she knew she would never carry it out. The mirror belonged in the room, just as much as she herself did.

Willow studied her reflection, wondering if the mirror showed her exactly as she was or if it was deliberately trying to make her appear more drawn and tired. As she stifled a yawn and her shoulders sagged further, she admitted that the reflection was accurate…

She was still staring at her own reflection when she saw a shadow move behind her. Willow froze as someone else entered the room in the reflection. It took her a few moments of steeling herself before she could turn around and stare at the real world behind her. She spun quickly…only to find herself alone in the room.

Her heart was thudding when she forced her gaze back to the mirror, a part of her hoped she had merely been seeing things but the figure was now standing even closer, just behind her shoulder.

The blonde vampire appeared exactly the same as she had the night Willow had last seen her…in the cemetery. Her hood was drawn back so Willow could see all of her face, the pale, unblemished surface stretched over her sharp cheekbones.

Willow remembered the broken figure lying in the cell beneath Gordon Square and she unconsciously let out a choked sob. The anger she felt in Tara's real presence was almost non-existent, replaced by all the sorrow and anguish those memories conjured.

"You never stopped loving me," Willow whispered, instinctively reaching out towards the image in the mirror, "Even when absolutely everything seemed hopeless after years in that dark hole…still, you loved me."

When the tips of her fingers touched the glass, Willow found it to be ice cold. Despite all that had happened to her during her last encounter with the mirror, she found herself willing the mirror to draw her in. She pressed her fingers against the glass until the tips were white with pressure and cold but still she remained standing alone in her room.

As the minutes passed and Tara's reflection remained motionless, trapped on the other side of the glass, Willow leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the icy surface. She watched her breath hit the mirror's surface for a moment before closing her eyes.

"Can't you just take me back?" Willow whispered desperately, "Back to that night when you chose Edward over me…I'd refuse to accept your decision and force you to leave with me!" She leaned into the mirror until the skin on the side of her face burned with cold. "I don't care if it's just a dream…please take me back!"

Willow felt her knees go weak as the soft, warm breath brushed against her neck. As difficult as it was to hold herself upright, she could still inject an amount of fervor into her voice. "Neither of us chose our paths! They were chosen for us…always!"

As Tara's voice sounded in her ear, Willow remembered that day. Even though it was over one hundred years ago, it was a day she would never forget. An abrupt sigh escaped her lips.

Tara continued. "You made the decision to kiss me, and I made the decision to let you…that was the one moment that set everything in motion."

"All of this suffering…because of one kiss," Willow whispered. "It's not fair…." Her voice trailed off, as soon as the words left her lips she acknowledged to herself just how petty and futile they really were. There was absolutely no one she could appeal to, no one to help her and Tara…no one besides themselves.

With her entire body now chilled, Willow drew back from the mirror so she could once again stare at Tara's reflection. She watched as a single tear tracked down the pale skin of her cheek. Willow fought back her own tears as she reflected on how differently their lives would have progressed had it not been for that kiss. Both would have married, albeit unhappily, and born children…and they would both be very much dead and buried.

Despite all she and Tara had suffered in the years since that kiss, Willow did not want to exchange anything for the safe but boring and unhappy life that was her birthright as an upper class woman.

"How could I have made any other choice that day in the stable?" Willow whispered, lifting her fingers so it was as though she was touching the tear track on Tara's cheek. "Just look at you. You are beautiful."

Willow suddenly felt a firm grip on the front of her shirt and for the second time she was dragged into the mirror, although this time it was straight into Tara's waiting arms in the mirrored reflection of the room. She quickly overcame her surprise and allowed her body to mould against Tara's so that there was absolutely nothing separating them. With a sigh she found Tara's lips. Her first contact with the soft skin sent shivers throughout her entire body that pooled in her gut and between her legs. She drew back slightly to break her contact with Tara's lips but only so she could press forward again a split second later and feel that same contact for a second time.

Tara's hand went to the back of her neck, preventing Willow from drawing back again but this time she was ready to open up completely to the kiss. They explored each other's lips teasingly at first, but then more fiercely until the contact was almost bruising.

Willow surprised herself with the intensity of her own need. She felt the blood pounding in her head as she willed herself to explore more of Tara. As her hands roamed the lithe body pressed up against her own, she thrust her tongue into Tara's mouth…seeking, needing more.

Just as she was about to lose herself to the reflection's kiss and forget all that was happening outside of the mirror, Willow felt herself be thrust backwards by an unseen force. She was torn from Tara's lips and her grasp with a muffled cry. Moments later she landed on her back atop the floor rug in her room. She stared back at her own reflection and saw lips swollen by Tara's kiss…but Tara's reflection was gone.

Willow lifted her shaking hand and pressed her fingers to her lips to feel the fast disappearing warmth left by the kiss.

Willow's attention was drawn away from the mirror by the sound of a man's voice echoing down the hallway beyond her room. She made a half-hearted attempt to drag herself to her feet but she only succeeded in proving what she already suspected, her legs would not hold her weight.

A few moments later, there was a tentative knock on her already open door. Willow turned her head to see young Myles Cavendish poke his head into the room. When he saw he half-lying on the floor he moved quickly to her side with an anxious expression on his face.

"Are you alright!" he asked quickly as he knelt on the floor at her side. Myles did not know if it was appropriate for him to reach out and support Willow in some way. He lifted his hands towards her but immediately thought better of touching her and dropped them back to his thighs where he scrapped his clammy palms over the wool of his breeches. "Forgive me for saying so…but you are as white as a sheet."

"I am sitting in front of a bloody mirror, Myles!" Willow snapped. "I think I can see for myself how pale I am without having to hear it from you!"

"Oh…" Myles glanced up to the mirror and then down at the floor. He tried to find something else to say but instead settled on standing up and giving Willow some space.

Willow sighed. "Damn my ill-temper…I'm sorry, will you forgive me and help me up?"

"Of course!" Myles was quick to respond, taking both Willow's proffered hands and hoisting her back onto her feet.

There was an awkward moment where the two of them were standing scant inches apart but Myles wasted no time in backing away. His cheeks reddened as he stared at the floor and once again wiped his palms, this time on his jacket.

"Is it your turn to watch me?" Willow asked, feeling ridiculous that she should have to ask such a question of someone who was almost ten years her junior.

Myles bit his lip before replying reluctantly, "Not exactly…I think it's Faith's…but I was wondering if I could stay here all the same. I-I know, it is ridiculous of me to think that I could…gosh Miss Rosenberg, I'm ever so sorry…I'll be out of your hair immediately."

"Myles, wait!" Willow interrupted the young man's escape from her room. "You're more than welcome…as soon as you explain why. Will your parents not miss you?"

Myles looked stricken for a moment but the expression was quickly gone, replaced by a sad smile. "I guess you're still missing some of the little details in your memory…my parents are dead, I live with my aunt and uncle."

"I'm sorry." Willow hated to think that Myles was such a small part of her life she had simply forgotten whole details about his life after emerging from the mirror. She saw through his brave attempt at a smile and reached out to lay her hand on his shoulder, knowing that a proper hug would send him so far past the point of embarrassment he would have difficulty recovering. "It had slipped my mind."

"It's understandable." Myles shrugged as though it did not matter. "You've been through a lot."

"Still, you are a dear friend," Willow said sincerely. "Why do you want to stay here? Are your aunt and uncle not good to you?"

Myles responded with a fervent nod. "Yes, of course, but I cannot help but feel like a burden. They have five children of their own and…I wondered with me having to come and stay here every few nights anyway, if I might be able to stay every night, at least until I find somewhere to board."

Willow smiled. "Myles, you are more than welcome to stay here indefinitely…if you promise me that you are able to stomach the thought of ghostly presences and mirrors that swallow people whole."

"And Myles…if you are going to live here for any length of time, will you please call me Willow?"

Willow let Myles take his pick of the several guest rooms at Gordon Square she felt a huge wave of relief wash over her. The house would no longer feel empty and she would have someone to keep her company…even if it was a young man who grew red-checked around women and had a habit of knocking things over.

As she watched a grateful Myles dump his bag with some relish on the huge bed in front of him, Willow found the memory of the kiss with Tara's reflection foremost in her mind once again. Although it had merely been a dream…or a vision of sorts, she could not help but remember it as being very real. Given the lack of anger she had felt towards the reflection, Willow wondered if the same would be true when she saw Tara face to face. She pushed such speculations from her mind for the immediate present and instead dwelt on the way Tara's lips had felt beneath her own.

It was only when Myles looked at her strangely a few minutes later that she realized the mere memory of the kiss had been enough to make her drool.

Willow was determined to help Myles feel at home straight away…at least she told herself this was what she was doing. In truth she was trying to forget everything else that constantly plagued her waking and sleeping thoughts.

Willow very quickly discovered that cooking was an effective way to keep one's mind busy. When living alone she had mostly picked up food on the way home from work from any one of the greasy little bars and restaurants that lined the streets of her neighborhood. As a result she had very little in the cupboards at Gordon Square except for a few items that Faith had thought to buy. For some reason the dark-haired vampire hunter ate like a horse.

As she bustled around the still unfamiliar kitchen, trying to make a stew of sorts, Myles sat at the kitchen table and filled the air with a constant stream of chatter. As exasperated as Willow grew with the combined effort of trying to cook and listen to Myles, she realized that she actually felt a semblance of normality in her life.

"I figure…if I spend a few more years doing…what I'm doing now," Myles explained between mouthfuls of an apple he was gnawing on, "I'll be in the perfect position to ask Director Croft for additional responsibility and weapons training…perhaps accompanying Faith on a few missions…easy ones of course…"

"Although I'm not actually sure what you actually do now, Myles," Willow commented as she wrinkled her nose, wondering if her stew was supposed to be giving off the odor of rotten cabbage, "I think it is wise to have a plan…ouch!"

"It's not too ambitious?" Myles asked anxiously, watching as Willow jabbed a burnt finger into a pail of water.

"Not at all, it would be like….a curatorial internship, only in your case…a vampire hunter internship." Willow shrugged; she lifted her finger out of the pail and examined the reddening skin at its tip. "Makes perfect sense really."

"What makes perfect sense?" Faith strode into the kitchen and deposited two large, bulky bags in the middle of the floor. She was surprised to see Myles sitting in front of her, his jaws working around a large mouthful of fruit. "I thought it was my night?"

"It…ish…or…ight," Myles tried to explain, he swallowed too quickly and ended up descending into a loud choking fit.

Willow frowned disapprovingly as small pieces of apple sprayed out of Myles's mouth and across the table. "It is your night…I've just invited Myles to stay on a longer-term basis

"Great!" Faith was suddenly enthusiastic. "If you're offering…you know my place's a rotten hole and you've got more rooms than you know what to do with…"

Willow sighed in exasperation as she glanced from a still-choking Myles back to Faith. "Do you people think that this is Hotel Rosenberg?"

Despite the exasperation in her tone, Willow could not restrain the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. Without any further words of complaint, she set about making another place at the kitchen table and then returned to her stew.

Faith pulled back a chair at the head of the table, casting a wary glace in the direction of the stove.

"You didn't make that did you, Will?" Faith nodded towards the large pot of stew bubbling away on the stove.

Willow turned, "Of course I did…there wasn't much to work with but…" Willow paused and her face fell slightly. "You think it's going to be terrible don't you?"

Seizing her wooden spoon, Willow waved it in Faith's direction without noticing the gobs of brown liquid flying off in several directions, "That is what you are insinuating!"

"I'm just impressed!" Faith tried to wriggle out of trouble. "You know I haven't the faintest clue when it comes to cooking…I just didn't know you did." Faith then subtlety changed the subject. "Is there anything to wash it down with? I didn't think to bring any wine."

"I think there's some in the cellar…although I think it's kind of old though," Willow announced, still clutching her dripping spoon as she looked towards a door leading off from the kitchen. "I hope it's still alright."

Myles waited until Willow had disappeared into the cellar to lean towards Faith, "I tasted it when she wasn't looking and it's god-awful…too watery and too salty…but please don't tell her!"

"Oh god," Faith muttered, "You can't seriously expect me to pretend I'm enjoying it?"

"You and I will both enjoy it!" Myles whispered with determination, "With all she's been through lately the last thing she needs is for us to tell her that her cooking is rotten!"

"I think I'll go and help Willow with the wine selection." Faith pushed back her chair with a loud scrape. "And make sure she brings up enough, I think I'm going to need to thoroughly line my stomach."

Although it was only afternoon, the halls of the British Museum's basement were eerily silent as Tara made her way along the familiar route to Giles's office. She did not need to walk the corridors at all of course; she could simply slip through one of the many windows…however, even though he had been warned against it, she was hoping to accidentally bump into a certain red head.

The door to Willow's office had been left half open. Tara tentatively peered through the gap but saw only Willow's empty chair in the midst of the mess.

Tara did not turn immediately, her gaze lingered on the office. It did not matter, she knew exactly who it was who had joined her. She had heard the faint tapping of a cane on the wooden floor before the Museum Director had even entered the corridor. When she did eventually turn to face Lara Croft she was surprised to see a healthy glow about the darker woman, the trace of a smile lingering on her lips.

"I did not want to see her…" Tara started to explain and then cut herself short, no explanations were necessary. She moved away from Willow's office and changed the subject. "You look well."

Lara shrugged, but the smile that had lingered on her face now tugged at her lips. "I have been alone for so long that I did not think this would ever happen…and certainly not with Faith…but I think she is good for me."

"No one…" Tara started to speak but she stopped short before she finished her sentence, no one should be alone, knowing that she would not be able to force the words out without choking on them. "It is a good match."

Lara laughed throatily at Tara's choice of words. "An unlikely match don't you think? She has exasperated me from the moment she strode into my office…I thought we would end up at each other's throats…not in bed together." Lara paused, feeling as though Tara was being overly silent. When she turned to stare at the vampire, she saw a pained expression on her pale features. Lara's heart immediately sank. She could not believe how insensitive she had been, exposing any enthusiasm for her relationship with Faith without taking into account Tara's complete lack of a relationship with the woman she loved. "I am sorry; I did not mean to bring up such a subject…especially not when…"

The pained expression had already been wiped from Tara's face. "I have known you for almost twenty-five years, and in all that time I have never seen you as happy as you are now…and I am, in turn, happy for you…as I should be."

Lara sighed. Tara's words were nothing but sincere but she could not help but see straight through them to the pain that lay beneath. She stepped forward and moved to embrace Tara, to draw the blonde woman close for just a moment. Tara rebuffed her by turning slightly, avoiding the embrace.

"Tara, for god's sake stop being such an ice princess and let me hold you!" Lara growled angrily. She tried once again to seize her by the shoulders but Tara shrugged her off with little effort. "How long has it been since someone has held you in an honest to goodness embrace for nothing more than comfort?"

"You know how long it has been," Tara whispered as she put some additional breathing distance between herself and Croft. "Several lifetimes."

"Too long." Lara ignored Tara's obvious physical discomfort and slowly closed the gap that had just been created between the two of them. When Tara did not try to move away she reached out and placed a hand lightly on her sleeve. "You cannot continue to punish yourself in this manner…denying yourself anything that might be considered comfort…"

Tara suddenly yanked her arm away as though Lara's touch burned. Several times she appeared to be on the verge of saying something before thinking better of it.

Tara found it difficult to speak; her words came out haltingly, "Don't you understand…I cannot give in to this, as simple an act as you obviously think it to be…"

"It is simple!" Lara interrupted. "If I can go as far to admit that you need someone to care about you, then you can bloody well admit that you're hurting…"

"Hurting?" Tara turned to stare at Lara with her blue eyes opened wide, normally lustrous, they were dull and lifeless. "Lara, I married a pure pig of a man to save a family who saw me only as a piece of chattel, I spent several weeks in hell with him before being turned into a despicably evil creature who spent decades roaming the world killing and torturing innocents…oh, and along the way I managed to find the time to deceive and murder the woman I love…"

Lara felt her cheeks burn with shame. She felt responsible for triggering this painful conversation. "Tara…please…stop…"

Tara continued, "No, that was not the end of it by half, I then spent an eternity locked in a cell with only my newly returned soul for company…I finally get the hell out of there only to have to resurrect my dead lover and spend the next few decades desperately trying to maintain the façade of being a bloodthirsty demon. My lover has since grown up all over again and now wants nothing more than to drive a stake through my chest…I have to say that 'hurting' doesn't quite sum up how I feel right now."

Lara drew in a deep breath; there was little she could say in response to Tara's outburst. "Yet after everything that you have been through…you are still standing in front of me…"

"No," Lara said softly as she shook her head. "You love Willow…even after everything you have suffered…and it is that love which keeps you here…and it will bring you together once again."

"Please don't say that," Tara whispered, "You don't know that…I don't know that…"

Lara moved forward and folded Tara into her arms without asking. This time the blonde did not attempt to avoid the embrace. She fell into Lara's arms with a soft sob and crumpled.

"Of everything I have had to bear in my life," Tara whispered into Lara's shoulder, "The knowledge that I may never get her back is what makes it difficult to keep living…" a choked sob escaped her lips and her fingers clutched at the fabric covering Lara's back. "I need her, Lara, I need her so very much."

Neither woman saw Faith emerge around the corner of the opposite end of the corridor. The vampire hunter had been on her way upstairs to help Lara down to the basement. Now she found herself staring at her lover cradling the blonde vampire in her arms. Her first thoughts immediately went to the far end of the spectrum. As she was well versed in the Director's body language, Faith knew the way she held Tara close meant that there was something between the two of them…something more than simple friendship. At any moment she expected them to shift slightly so they could kiss.

Faith found her legs unwillingly to co-operate as she stared at the two women standing in a close embrace. A short while later she realized her fists were balled at her side as though she needed to strike something. Before she could unleash an outburst in the corridor, she turned and hastily made her way to Giles's workroom. She had almost broken into a run by the time she slipped into the familiar workspace.

Giles was already there, perched on one of his stools with his nose buried in several papers. He glanced up when she entered. Faith did not acknowledge his presence as she hoisted herself up onto a table and sat with her arms hugging her stomach.

Faith looked startled, as though she had only just noticed that Giles was actually in the room "Oh…yes…and no. Willow cooked for Myles and I last night. Although I think I actually came out alright, poor Myles has had his head stuck in a chamberpot for much of the day."

If Faith found the story amusing, then it did not show in her voice or expression. She went back to staring at her feet as they dangled out in front of her. Giles was about to question her further when Lara entered the room, followed shortly by Tara. Surprisingly, Faith did not lift her gaze to acknowledge her lover. Giles very quickly decided that whatever was happening between the two of them, he would not get involved,

Lara too quickly noticed this silence. She frowned in her lover's direction but she was unwilling to query her in public, even if the 'public' involved were two of her dearest friends. Instead, she turned her attention to Giles. The warlock was now looking particularly pleased with himself for a reason which she could hazard a good guess at.

"Giles?" Lara murmured inquisitively, she could not help but cast another worried glance in Faith's direction but the vampire hunter's gaze remained fixed downwards, what the hell have I done now? She allowed herself a brief disgruntled twist of her mouth before turning her full attention back to Giles. "You must have something to report?"

Giles beamed. "Indeed I do. I am fairly certain that the spell to destroy the skull has been completed…I cannot be one hundred percent certain until I have carried out more physical tests but it is good news at least."

Beside her, Lara heard Tara exhale with obvious relief. Lara had to share her feelings, with the spell ready, it was only a matter of finding the skull and everything would be almost over. This cloud that had hung over her entire tenure as Director of the organization would be lifted and leave her free to concentrate on ridding the world of Dracula altogether, without worrying that he would rise up with a might army and conquer Europe.

"Giles, do you need assistance carrying out these tests?" Tara spoke up; she was pleased at the opportunity to have something to focus on besides her burning need to see Willow.

"That would be welcome…but I would like to leave you out of this for now, the more you know about the spell, the more Dracula might know…"

"Are you insinuating that I would tell him?" Tara interrupted angrily. "After all these years of feeding him the information we wanted to feed him without giving away that which we did not want him to know…"

Giles shook his head slowly, unfazed by Tara's outburst. It was exactly the reaction he had predicted. "I'm keeping you in the dark for the same reason I kept you in the dark regarding Willow's whereabouts…just to be safe. If he ever did turn on you, you would have no defense against him."

Tara ducked her head. She had tried desperately to convince herself otherwise, that she would be able to stand up to Dracula and defeat him…but she knew that he would smite her down…and then proceed to torture her for information with great enthusiasm. Tara knew she would never willingly give up a single thing that would endanger Willow…but she could also not rule out being turned again. Although neither she nor Giles had the slightest proof as to whether she could even be turned again, especially considering she was already a vampire, it was a theory she did not want to test.

"I understand." Tara nodded in Giles's direction. "There have been increased rumblings of late…some of my colleagues have been less than impressed with my efforts to find the skull."

Tara shrugged. "Perhaps…although I am hardly worried by the pandering of the likes of William and others…I think it is starting to become clear that Angelus will never return."

"My absence would only serve to heighten their suspicions," Tara replied firmly. "No, I will go to them and offer further false trails regarding the skull."

"There is only so much of that you can do," Giles cautioned. "Sooner or later you will have exhausted their patience and they will call you out on the promises you have made…you cannot confront them all."

"I know," Tara admitted. It was a thought that was foremost in her mind whenever she consorted with demons. It was exhausting to maintain the appearance that she was still one of them even though she had been ensouled. "If you don't have anything further for us…I think I might go, my humanity is asserting itself with a vengeance today, I am exhausted."

"I will see you out." Lara offered almost immediately, she glanced towards an abnormally silent Faith just in time to catch her angry expression. She suppressed a sigh. That was one conversation she needed to have…although she brightened up slightly after a moment's consideration. Whatever it was she had done, there was bound to be an opportunity for vigorous make-up sex in its wake.

With the other two women leaving, Giles turned his attention to Faith. Like Lara, her silence unnerved him as well, "Have you anything to add?"

"I am worried about Will," was Faith's first observation and obviously her greatest concern. She turned her head slightly, her eyes boring daggers into Tara's back as she followed Lara out the door. It was only when the blonde was completely gone that she turned her attention back to Giles. "She appears to be holding everything together…but I shudder to think what she is going through inwardly."

"We are all concerned for Willow," Giles reminded her gently. "But I believe the best way to help her is to keep all our efforts focused on finding the skull."

"A curse on that damn skull!" Faith snapped angrily in Giles's direction, "And a pox on you for dumping this task on our shoulders…most importantly Willow's, but Lara's…and mine…and even that ice bitch…" Faith paused and then turned in the direction of the open door through which her lover and Tara had just walked a moment earlier. She furrowed her brow as her suspicions deepened. "Giles, do you know if there was ever anything happening between Lara and that vampire?"

Faith turned back to face Giles with a disbelieving expression, "Giles, you're ancient…how do you not know these things?"

Giles gave an annoyed snort in response to Faith's stare, "Well, I didn't think you meant 'that', how the hell am I supposed to know? Neither woman is particularly verbose at the best of times…and certainly not when it comes to their private lives. Although…knowing Tara's story as well as I do, I would give you a very firm, unequivocal answer…nothing has happened or will ever happen."

"Tara loves Willow…always has…and always will…now can you tell me exactly what your jealousy has to do with finding the skull?"

"Nothing," Faith muttered sullenly, still clinging stubbornly to her suspicions. "Willow was dead for an awfully long time…and Lara is the very definition of gorgeous, how could she at least not think about her?"

"I have absolutely no idea!" Giles replied in an exasperated tone. "I think you should be talking to Lara about this, not me!"

"Good heavens, I couldn't do that," Faith looked horrified. "She'll eat me alive for even contemplating such idiotic thoughts."

Faith gave Giles a rather half-hearted apologetic smile and beat a hasty retreat from his workroom, leaving the warlock in peace to continue his work.

Giles however thought it might take him a few minutes before he had calmed down enough to return to the complex formulas in front of him.

"Heaven help us all when we are surrounded by such strong-willed women." Even as he uttered the words Giles knew that they would not have a chance in hell of defeating Dracula if not for the strong-willed women that surrounded him. Still, he did wish that things could be a little less…dramatic.

The leaves crunched beneath her feet with each step she took. Although the sound was barely audible it filled her ears like a roar. She paused and crouched behind a partially collapsed crypt, back pressed firmly against the stone in order to hide her body in shadow.

Willing her busy mind into silence Willow concentrated on the other movement in the cemetery, the one she hunted. Her entire body was tense, from the stake balanced perfectly in one palm, to her feet positioned in readiness to attack in a heartbeat. She could not tell if her prey sensed her presence, knowing only too well that the noise it was making could be a deliberate ruse to draw potential prey out and into the open. On the other hand it could indicate that the vampire was newly turned and inexperienced. Willow let out a small sigh; she fervently hoped it was the former. The night had been dreadfully slow with virtually no activity. The only vampires she had seen had been furtive, cowardly shadows in the distance as they dared not venture out into the open.

It had been a slow night. Willow felt the need to dust at least one before returning home to sleep or she would write the night off as a complete waste of time…and she hated to waste time.

The vampire was moving straight towards her and it was at that moment that Willow knew her presence had not been detected. It would be a swift surprise and a quick staking. It was all too easy. Still…it was better than no prey at all.

Like a starving predator rising from an ambush, Willow emerged from the shadows of the crypt and into the moonlight. She knew what movements she ought to be making, a simple lunge forward, driving the stake into the dead heart of the vampire.

Everything went wrong from the moment she faced her prey and found herself staring into a pair of piercing blue eyes. Her forward movement was halted almost to the point where she was driven backwards by her surprise. She stood unsteadily, unable to do anything save stare at the one vampire she could not bring herself to destroy.

Tara's lips were parted slightly in shock, as though she too were surprised by Willow's presence. She remained standing still, making no obvious moves to brace herself for an attack despite the fact that Willow was poised with stake in hand.

"Willow," she whispered, an eternity of emotion and longing injected into just one small word. Her breath caught as she trailed off.

A surge of sudden anger moved through Willow's veins. After everything Tara had done to her, she did not have the right to say her name like that. To say her name as though they were only a heartbeat away from embracing and losing themselves in each other's flesh. Willow refused to allow herself to be distracted by the thought of losing herself in Tara's embrace, a task made all the more difficult by the memory of her encounter in the mirror just a few days previously. Her jaw tightened with determination but she still could not speak or move.

Suddenly she was gripped by an overwhelming internal force that kicked her body into motion. Willow had absolutely no control over her movements as she felt her weight shift forward and into an attacking stance. In one second she was facing Tara and the next she was surging forward with the stake drawn back ready to strike. She whipped her arm forward and the sharpened wood plunged easily into the middle of Tara's chest, almost as though it were being driven home by some instinctive force.

However, as Willow withdrew and waited expectantly for the vampire to revert to dust, she glanced down to notice the bright red blood coating the length of the stake. Through horrified eyes she stared up at Tara and still saw no dust explosion. It was normally so simple, if not exactly clean it was impersonal and emotionless…this however…this was not clean.

"Tara?" Willow whispered in disbelief. She took one more look at the bloody stake in her hand before flinging it away in disgust.

She sank to her knees in the grass and reached out with both hands in a vain effort to stem the flow of blood from the hole. The eyes that met Willow's were wide with terror as blood began to bubble from her mouth as she took her last few breaths in immense pain.

Willow sat in shock as she felt the struggling heart beat its last. She glanced downwards at her hands. The crimson liquid continued to well between her tightly clenched fingers she willed the hole to close and the heart to beat once more. She continued to stare at the blood, if only to avoid having to look back into the blue eyes that were empty of everything save an accusation.

Willow could hear the words as though Tara were still alive to speak them, I never stopped loving you…when did you stop loving me?

Willow's entire body jerked upright jerked upright and she slammed her head sharply into window at her back, luckily not cracking the pane of glass. As she sat rubbing the back of her head she realized she had fallen asleep on the window seat in her bedroom, the book which she remembered being on her lap had fallen to the floor. Her hands were pale and empty in her lap…although they were unstained by Tara's blood she immediately starting scrubbing them together as though trying to wipe them clean.

"Never," Willow whispered to herself as she wiped her hands on her thighs. "I never stopped loving you."

Willow glanced up upon hearing Faith's comment and she frowned, glancing at herself in a hall mirror as they passed it. She noticed the slight red flush to her cheeks that had caught Faith's attention. She stubbornly explained this away by reminding herself of the fact that they had just climbed several flights of stairs to reach Gordon Square's second floor. However, there were other signs aside from the flush, her cheek bones were more prominent than usual and her lips tightly drawn. It was more than simply climbing flights of stairs.

Willow shrugged, unwilling to share even with Faith, "I'm fine…just a little exertion 'tis all." She paused in front of a closed, heavy door and then glanced down the wide but dark corridor ahead. She shivered slightly, especially with the realization that no one had set foot in the corridor since Abraham had died.

Given the fact that Giles was becoming overly anxious about the skull, Willow had promised to undertake a room by room search of Gordon Square. If not hoping to find the skull itself, then at least some clue as to its whereabouts. Before commencing the task she had not truly appreciated just how many rooms the house actually had. She had begun to get an understanding of the immensity of the task while searching the first floor, although she already knew her own room and Abraham's inside out. The guest bedrooms too were relatively simple and appeared not to hold any secrets. The second floor and attic however, were another story entirely. Although Abraham had spent some time sequestered away in his office, she could remembered very little occasion for venturing up there. She suspected that following her death, her brother had spent even more time in its dark halls. While she suspected she was possibly being foolish, she could swear that she felt a suffocating presence surrounding her on this particular floor. It was a presence that did not remind her of the brother she knew…but she knew it could be the monster her brother had become following her death.

"Well?" Faith prodded in an exasperated tone, she knew that the glazed look in Willow's eyes meant she was not wholly in the corridor with her.

Faith rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. "Are you going to stand out here all day or do you want me to go in and check the room for ghouls and ghosties first?"

"Oh, sorry, I was woolgathering," Willow admitted, managing a half-hearted apologetic grin as though she promised to restore her full attention to the task at hand.

"Not an uncommon occurrence," Faith replied in a tight-lipped, barely audible voice. When Willow flashed her a mildly pained expression she quickly pulled out a smile of her own although there was no hint of an apology. "So…would you like me to open that door for you?"

Faith's pointed suggestion had an intended effect on Willow. She finally stiffened her hunched shoulders and focused on the door as though it led into a pit of daemon hounds as opposed to the innocuous enough room that did lay behind it. The door creaked somewhat and a musty smell emerged from the sealed room, both slightly ominous signs. However, as soon as Willow flicked the light switch, a faint golden glow bathed what was an exceptionally busy little room.

One entire wall was lined with book shelves stacked with thick leather- bound books and papers. A heavy desk made of what appeared to be mahogany took up the space beneath the windows. It was still covered in papers as though whoever had been working there had intended to return.

"But it's filled with books," Faith observed the obvious. "It's like a miniature Willow-heaven or something to that effect."

Willow crossed the floor and drew one thick book down from a nearby shelf. She held it open to reveal column after column of notations and numbers and for once she appeared to be thinking exactly the same thing as Faith, complete disinterest. "Account ledgers…hardly interesting reading material. I'm not sure without looking through all of them but I suppose they're land-owning records…accounts for whatever one has to take account of when one owns land…and animals. I suppose how many pigs one owns and how much it costs to feed said pig."

"I thought pigs just ate scraps?" Faith was quick to point out the flaw in Willow's hypothetical example but she did not wait for Willow to favor her observation with a reply before moving onto an issue of more significance. "What happened to your family fortune?"

"I do not know for certain…but I think this house must be all that remains," Willow commented, quickly banishing all thoughts of the word 'fortune' from her head. It was the root of all evil in her books, the reason Tara had been forced to marry Edward Walsh. She was personally glad there was no longer a Van Helsing fortune.

"Well, the Van Helsings must have owned a great deal of land judging by the number of books in here," Faith commented as she spun on her heels to take in the book laden shelves. She then stopped spinning and looked at Willow with a reluctant expression. "Please don't tell me we have to look through every single one?"

Willow glanced over her shoulder at Faith as she moved towards the desk and gave a distinct, 'what do you think?' glare. With an exaggerated groan, Faith moved to the nearest shelf and ripped a ledger down as though she imagined she was yanking out the throat of a vampire. She gathered several more and retreated to a rather worn armchair nestled in one corner, afterwards moving only to turn a page or look up and cast a withering glare in Willow's direction.

If Willow felt Faith's annoyed gaze burning a hole in the back of her head, she did not feel the need to respond in any way. She faced the one wall that was not obscured by furniture of any kind and found it plastered from floorboard to ceiling with all manner of paper. Two large maps took up much of the center of the room; there was one large map of England and next to that a smaller scale map of Europe. Both maps were covered in a series of notations in Abraham's writing and bright red scraps of fabric in different locations. Radiating out from the maps were more notes written on scraps of paper and newspaper cuttings.

Willow scanned several of Abraham's notes and realized almost immediately what the purpose behind the wall was… it was his search for Tara. She knew if she took the time to read each note and clipping, she would be able to map out his entire obsession, from the year of her own death to the year he finally caught Tara and imprisoned her. Tentatively she reached up and laid her fingers on one yellowed clipping, a sensationalized account of the brutal murder of an entire family in Dover which made a great deal of the savage neck wounds found on the victims.

Unwilling to face such similar accounts, Willow drew her gaze away from the wall and turned her attention to the desk. She could almost see her brother seated behind its great bulk, working feverishly as he sought to unravel the whereabouts of his sister's killer.

She moved close enough to reach out and touch it. Tentatively, she ran her hands over the smooth wooden lines of the chair tucked neatly against the desk. As she grasped it and tugged it backwards she wondered how many times her brother had repeated the same motion. Willow folded herself into the chair and stared at the ledger that lay squarely in the middle of the desk in front of her. Glittering in embossed gilt letters on the front was the name, 'Van Helsing.' She tentatively reached out and traced each letter of the name. She felt strange when realizing that although she felt as if she was staring at her own name, she in fact wasn't. Her name was Willow Rosenberg. It was the name given to her by a family she had never really belonged to…and even less since they had disowned her after her violent outburst.

Willow took up a nearby pen and opened a fresh jar of ink, still useable after however long it had sat on her brother's desk. She then drew a sheet of paper in front of her and sat staring at its creamy emptiness for a few moments before making her next move. Dipping her pen in the ink she wrote in a firm hand, Willow Van Helsing. The letters flowed effortlessly into words and together they made up the complete picture, a picture of the life she had once lived.

Directly beneath that name, she wrote another, Willow Rosenberg. As she wrote she found the flow of her pen stunted and awkward, as though she did not feel right in writing that name. Willow pursed her lips together for a moment and then on a whim wrote a third name, Willow Van Rosenberg. She smirked a little as she read it. It was distinctly odd…and yet was she herself not an odd individual?

When Faith eventually moved from the armchair in the corner, the sound brought Willow back to reality. Willow straightened slightly and realized that she had filled the entire page in front of her with Willow Van Rosenberg over and over. With a slight embarrassed flush to her cheeks she crumpled the page. She then sighed wearily and swiveled in the chair to watch Faith replace several books and seize several more with no more enthusiasm than before.

As though she sensed Willow staring at her she turned and was unsurprised when her instinct was proven right.

Willow blinked a few times as though she was not really looking at Faith at all. Rather than reply, she hastily stood from her chair and crossed the room to stand directly in front of Faith. Without offering the other woman any explanation, she reached out gave one of the ledgers a sharp tug. Both women had to take a leap backwards to avoid the section of bookshelf which swung outwards.

"Just how many of those things are there in this house?" Faith dumped her latest pile of ledgers unceremoniously on the floor and examined the newly revealed opening with interest.

The opening was almost half the size of the passage leading from Gordon Square's library to the training room. When fully opened it was revealed that it did not lead to another passageway at all, but rather a solid, black door with a brass handle and large knob in the center…a safe.

Faith let out an excited breath, "It's an obvious guess…but where else in this house would you keep an exceptionally dangerous object that you dare not let fall into anyone else's hands? A slight problem given that we don't have any clue as to the combination…Will?"

Willow did not seem surprised in the slightest to find a safe behind the hidden door. She merely cocked her head for a moment as though she were thinking, "As a matter of fact…"

As she made to move in front of the safe, Faith stepped aside to make room. Without fully thinking about what she was doing, Willow twirled the large brass knob back and forth, each time stopping on a select number. At the floor turn she heard an audible click and then glanced over her shoulder to see Faith standing directly behind her wearing a rather impressed expression.

Willow shrugged, "Abraham told me once…although he handled everything to do with money he felt it important for me to know what it was and chose something that would be easy to remember. The combination was our butler's…Samuel's birthday."

Faith shook her head in bewilderment, "I still cannot get over the fact that you speak of such past times as though you were there."

"I was there, Faith," Willow reminded her friend in a matter-of-fact tone as she reached for the safe's handle.

Pausing for a moment to get a grip on the large brass lever, Willow then yanked it downwards and with Faith's help, pulled the heavy door outwards.

The sight in front of them caused both women to gasp; even Faith was struck silent for almost a minute before she was able to reply. Beside her she heard Willow utter a loud sniff.

However, what she and Willow were looking at was the safe's interior jammed full with solid gold sovereigns. Faith reached in and withdrew one to examine it more closely; it was nothing short of real. She heard Willow sniff again as she ran her thumb over its solid surface before looking back into the safe. While there was no telling exactly how much money was inside, it was safe to assume that it was a great deal.

Willow sniffed loudly and it was only when Faith turned to suggest that Willow find her handkerchief that she noticed the other woman was actually crying. Thick tears rolled down her cheeks despite her obvious efforts to stem the flow by sniffing and dashing them away with her fist. Faith tossed the sovereign to the floor and reached out for Willow, laying a hand on her back in what was supposed to be a soothing manner.

"Okay, Will, the discovery of money is not supposed to be a sad occasion," Faith pointed out in what she hoped was a helpful tone.

'Well…it's money, it's good for a lot of things," Faith stated the obvious with a slight shrug.

"It won't help us find the skull," Willow straightened from her crouching position to stand, she'd managed to contain her brief bout of crying but her eyes were red-rimmed and her shoulder slumped as though she were about to give up on something

"It has to help though, right?" Faith prompted tentatively, she tried to inject an element of enthusiasm into her voice, "Let's forget this for an hour or so, what do you say we head down to the training room…I've a new crossbow bolt I've been dying to try out."

"Pass," Willow said as she paused wiping away her tears to stifle a weary yawn. "I might retire for the evening."

The two women left the second floor together, before parting company to go in their separate directions, Faith turned to Willow and took her gently by the shoulder so she could not turn away. She saw all too clearly the pain in her eyes and knew that something other than the skull was eating away at her from the inside.

Willow managed a small smile that completely contradicted her drawn face, "I am fine…honestly."

Willow parted ways as her friend moved downstairs and she to her bedroom. She hated having to lie to Faith, but did not want to have to admit what had really set her off at the sight of the money in her safe.

It was a harsh reminder that all the money in the world was not going to bring her what she wanted most of all…Tara.

She sat on the edge of her bed for all of half a minute before realizing that she had absolutely no desire to sleep. With a renewed purpose she stood and crossed to her wardrobe, stripping items of clothing as she moved. When she was down to her underwear, she pulled out her hunting clothes. On went her dark breeches and shirt, battered breastplate and finally a jacket to keep the cold night air at bay.

Willow finished her outfit with a select compliment of weapons, just a few stakes and the silver saber which had come to be her weapon of choice even though she couldn't help but feel a slight pang of loss for her katana every time her fingers wrapped around its plain, unadorned hilt.

She elected to use the window as her exit point as per usual. While she knew that Faith would already be in the training room, filling an unfortunate target dummy with new holes, there was no telling where Myles would be. The young man was sure to try and stop her leaving the house or even worse, beg to be taken along. Willow preferred hunting alone.

The night was cool and Willow lightly jogged the distance to an almost abandoned cemetery that she hoped would be rife with demonic activity. She had barely worked up a sweat upon arrival at the giant and ominous wrought gates that heralded the entrance to the dark area. Her excitement however was well stoked as she discreetly drew a stake from within her jacket. This feeling increased with each step that took her further into the cemetery, further towards danger and the sense of really being alive.

She did not need to wait long to find her first vampire of the evening, he found her. Willow heard the leaves and twigs crunching beneath his feet before he drew near enough to touch her but she allowed him to think that he had taken her completely by surprised. As his fingers were about to close on the back of her neck, Willow whipped around

Willow paused, for a few awful seconds she was unable to bring herself to drive the take into the vampire's chest. Her mind insistently repeated images from her dream, images of stabbing Tara's still beating heart and the gushing blood that followed.

Sensing an opportunity in his opponent's hesitation, the vampire's arm darted out and caught her across the throat. Willow went flying backwards, struggling for a breath. She landed hard across a headstone, further knocking the wind out of her body and the stake from her hand. There was no time to recover as the vampire picked himself up and seized her by the shoulders. As he bared his fangs and lowered them towards her neck she lashed out with her heel, driving it downwards hard onto his foot. While it did very little, it was enough for Willow to find enough room to swing her arm. Her balled fist caught him across the jaw with enough momentum to jerk his whole body sideways. Willow brought both hands upwards and then outwards to rip his fingers from her neck. With a guttural roar she slammed her head into against the space just above his nose in a perfectly timed move that sent him reeling backwards. She followed up the Liverpool Kiss by smashing the flat of her foot into his chest.

As he fell to the ground, there was no longer any hesitation on Willow's part. She leapt onto his fallen form and drove the stake home with another savage yell. A few moments later the vampire exploded into a small cloud of dust, just as he should. Willow crouched over the spot where the body had been for a moment and realized in the calm that her heart was beating so quickly she was in danger of passing out. After drawing a few deep breaths, she was able to stand once more and scan the cemetery for her next target.

As Willow hoped, her flurry of activity in chasing down the vampire had drawn out several more. While most had managed to make their escape into the darkness while Willow was occupied, two remained. One was clearly incapacitated; his leg was jammed out at an odd angle as though it had been broken. He was terribly thin as though he had not eaten for some time. Willow was hardly surprised, if she could walk up to him to stake him, then she hardly expected him to be able to run to catch his food.

The staking was somewhat reluctant; she hated to think of herself as putting the vampire out of its misery. Even so, once she plunged the stake into his chest as he cowered on the ground in front of her she felt another surge of triumph flow through her veins.

The second vampire who lingered in the cemetery had been more than capable of fleeing the scene, she had however chosen to remain and fight. As Willow stared at the dark-haired, blue-eyed vampire, she realized that they were probably both as bored as the other.

Willow was not impressed that she had found a talkative vampire; she did not offer up a reply and instead moved into an attacking stance. A split second later she surged forward with both her body and her blade. The vampire was forced to block hastily or be gutted by Willow's silver sword.

As they began to trade blows, the female vampire obviously realized that Willow was in no mood for friendly conversation. With talking off the agenda, she proved to be a formidable opponent, far more so than Willow's first two kills of the evening.

Together they danced across a wide area of the cemetery, using headstones and trees alike as obstacles and points of leverage from which to try and gain the upper hand over the other.

With a small measure of exhaustion beginning to set in, Willow momentarily losing track of her footing and caught her foot on a gnarled tree root. She stumbled awkwardly and was forced to take desperate action to block the downward blow that followed as the vampire tried to take advantage of the moment. The vampire let out a savage roar as she sensed victory but her enthusiasm was her undoing. Willow saw the blow coming a long way off, the vampire was aiming to take her head off but she drew her arm back further than was necessary.

Still slightly off balance, Willow moved low and ducked beneath the swing of the vampire's sword to bring her own weapon upwards in a deadly arc. Barely missing a beat, Willow split the vampire open from crotch to neck. She fell back writhing in pain and collapsed to the ground.

Even as the vampire exploded into dust at her feet, Willow felt as though there were eyes on her back. She spun sharply as the dust settled around her feet to scan the shadows behind her. With her eyes narrowed and the stake clenched tightly in her fist, she prepared herself for another attack.

There was nothing behind her save trees bare of leaves and the lonely crypts and gravestones of the long-forgotten dead. Willow made to take a few steps forward but dismissed the feeling as her excited mind playing tricks on her. Tucking the stake back into the inside of her jacket, she turned towards home, counting three dustings as a very respectable total for the night.

For once Willow's instincts had let her down, deep within the shadows at her back a figure stood and watched her intently…just as he had watched her hunt and destroy the three vampires. A small smile creased his face; he had enjoyed his observations immensely. Willow Van Helsing was indeed as formidable as ever and he could look forward to their meeting after all this time.

Dracula pushed aside his coat and felt the reassuring hilt of the sword he wore at his waist. He knew if he had a heart beat, it would be quickening in response to his excitement. With the smile still fixed on his face, he shifted into his misty form to travel the short distance that separated him from Willow. When he reformed directly in front of her he was rewarded with the expression of blatant shock on her face. He also dared to think that there might be a little fear mixed in as well.

When he spoke the tone of his voice was as if he were seeing an old friend for the first time in many years, "Willow Van Helsing."

As the night wore on, the temperature dropped even further and the first splatters of rain hit London's streets. The drunks, whores and thieves who were the only souls out, braved the wet weather until they realized that it was increasing in intensity with each passing minute. Eventually even they were driven to seek somewhere dry. Those with money to spare headed for a tavern or whorehouse, while their less fortunate friends had to shelter beneath a bridge.

A figure perched on a rooftop high above watched the streets empty with a vague sort of indifference. People scurried like ants towards shelter as she stared from beneath the deep hood of her cloak. She tilted her face heavenwards and let the rain drops pelt her skin.

While Tara could feel each drop strike her face, the icy temperature did not affect her in the slightest. She did however feel the water begin to seep beneath her cloak and soak the clothes she wore beneath. Eventually she lowered her face and reached up to tug her hood as far over her head as possible. Despite the intensity of the rain, the water beaded and slid off the cloak.

It had been raining for just a few minutes when she felt a presence join her. Instead of turning to see who it was, she continued to stare at the dark streets below. The streets were now empty of life, with no moonlight or street light; the steadily pooling water seemed to swallow the buildings whole.

Eventually whoever it was standing behind her grew impatient and she heard an abrupt, forced cough. It was all she needed to know exactly who it was, and she had no interest in speaking to him.

"Bugger off," Tara muttered testily, refusing to even turn and look at the other vampire. "I'm busy."

Although Tara did not hear him actually move, she could tell he was now just behind her shoulder. She shivered involuntarily as though she could feel his body pressed against hers. Tara glanced down at the ledge beneath her feet and then at the street several floors below. There was no way she could step away from William without stepping off the building. While she had no desire to talk to him, there was something in his tone that told her he wanted to speak to her. She waited, forcing him to make another attempt at conversation.

"I would think that someone in your position would at least have the sense to appreciate help when it appears, whatever the guise." Tara heard William's voice sound just behind her ear, with another step his body was pressed tightly against her back, moments later she felt hands on each of her shoulders and fought to resist cringing away from his touch. "You do want my help don't you, Tara?"

"I cannot imagine a time where I would want or need your help, William," Tara replied in a condescending tone. "Now run along back to your dark hole and leave me be."

He laughed, a gravely sound that irritated her to the point where she longed to turn and rip a chunk of skin from his birdlike neck…she could not however stomach the thought of putting her lips to his loathsome flesh. At the moment she uttered a weary sigh, he changed his grip so he had her by the upper arms. He then whirled her about with a violent jerk so she was staring at him, her face just inches from his own.

Tara did not give him a chance to speak, she snarled in anger , "You would think to irritate me by manhandling me in this manner? Do you want to suffer the same fate as Angelus?"

A flicker of realization passed over William's face at the mention of their former colleague, he smirked dangerously in response. "You would admit to destroying him?"

"I admit nothing," Tara replied coldly. She turned her face so she did not have to meet his beady gaze.

Why did I know he was going to ask me about Willow? "I have no need…there is nothing for me to admit."

William reached out and roughly seized her by the chin, his nails digging in as he forced her to look directly at him once again. Her fierce gaze in response reflected every ounce of her loathing for the rake thin vampire. Even with his grip on her chin she managed to twist her mouth into a sneer.

"Then you should rejoice that our master has gone to her tonight!" he announced with fervor.

"That is my task!" Tara could not keep the emotion from creeping into her voice. She hoped however she merely sounded furious as opposed to afraid. "Our master placed her exclusively in my hands!"

"And he has grown tired of you always stalling our work…five years have passed since you discovered that Van Helsing whore had been reborn and in that time you have delivered us nothing! We are no closer to finding the skull and our master's patience has expired. He will retrieve her and extract the location of the skull by whatever means necessary."

Tara forced herself to remain calm even though she knew William to be speaking the truth. She could not believe she had been blind enough to miss noticing their growing distrust…but it was too late now, her worst nightmare was becoming a reality.

"She does not leave her home in the evening," Tara stated, trying to inject a false air of confidence into her voice. "He has no invitation."

Willow you stupid girl! "I should be at his side! Give me the location!" Tara demanded, trying to maintain at least pretence of her act.

"I am only here to help," William cocked his head to one side, there was a vicious glint in his eyes, "And you would help our master by staying away!"

Tara narrowed her eyes in response, she jerked her chin free from his grip but did not try and move away as she finally allowed herself to say the words she had long believed inside, "He is not my master."

At Tara's bold revelation, William's bony features contorted into a mask of rage. He roughly seized the front of her cloak and with a last growl he shoved her backwards. Tara allowed the force of William's shove to send her flying from the rooftop. She continued looking at him even as her form dissolved into grey mist and blended with the night.

It was obvious from his actions that he had been ordered not to kill her and from this Tara drew the conclusion that Dracula did not know exactly where she stood. She suspected that his plan would be to confront her himself and ensure her loyalty by having her participate in his torture of Willow. It was a situation she could not allow to come to pass…the confrontation would be on her terms, not his, and it would be tonight.

Tara could only hope that by the time she found Willow, she would not be too late.

As he said her name, Willow allowed Dracula's soft tones to wash over her like water. If they were intended to have any sort of effect on her, then they failed. Instead she tightened her grip on the silver sword in her hand, keeping it out in front of her like a barrier between her and the Lord of Vampires.

As she stared at his perfect features she found herself drifting back to the last time they had met, on the battlefield at Covasna. Even though it had been Willow Van Helsing who had fought that desperate and ultimately tragic fight, she remembered every detail as clearly as though she herself had been there. From his overly polished sword but essentially brutish work to his ability to dissolve his body as Tara did, Willow replayed the events of that fight in her mind. She searched for a weakness. Although she could remember him tiring to the point where he could no longer change form, Willow could not help but wonder whether that had merely been a ruse to lull her into a false sense of security. Throughout that fight, Dracula had known that Tara would always betray her mortal lover; he had been secure in that knowledge. Now he stood in front of her, apparently alone, and yet entirely unpredictable.

Willow let out a shallow breath. A part of her wished she had heeded the advice of her friends and stayed indoors…but the larger part by far was fervently glad that she had left herself open to this confrontation. She allowed a confident smile to creep onto her face.

"Dracula," Willow inclined her head in a mocking greeting. "I see no minions. Has the passage of time caused you to forget our previous confrontation? I believe I was mere seconds away from ending your terrible reign."

He laughed in a honeyed tone. Such was the power of his allure that for a moment Willow was reminded of being at a ball during the London season, surrounded by gay revelers in all their finery. The thought was fleeting as she firmly reminded herself that he was a creature to be feared and hated despite his considerable charms.

"Being reincarnated has caused you to lose none of your spirit, Willow Van Helsing," he paused for a moment, "Or do you prefer Rosenberg?"

Willow shrugged, not taking her eyes of him for an instant, "I prefer neither coming from your lips…but it is of little consequence in the end as no amount of conversation is going to help you find the skull…after all, that's why you're here isn't it?"

If Willow's abrupt announcement fazed Dracula in the least, then he did not let it show on his handsome features. He took his eyes off her and paced a few steps to the right, as though he was enjoying a pleasant evening's stroll as opposed to a conversation with an enemy. His stroll was further ruined a moment later as drops of rain began to fall from the heavens, indiscriminate as to where they landed.

Willow kept her gaze trained on Dracula as the rain fell around her. It went seemingly unnoticed even as it plastered her red hair to her head and began to soak through the shoulders of her coat.

"I cannot deny that the whereabouts of the skull consumes my thoughts," he whispered with barely concealed longing.

"Well you're completely out of luck, old boy," Willow replied jauntily, "I haven't a bloody clue as to where the damn thing is…and of course it goes without saying that even if I did know where it was, you'd be the last person I'd tell."

Dracula paced back in the opposite direction until he was standing directly in front of Willow once more. With a slight flourish he drew the slender blade he wore at his waist and held in lightly in his hand as though reassuring himself of its weight. He then pointed it in Willow's direction.

"You'll be surprised just how much of a 'bloody clue' you will have after I'm finished with you…people remember all manner of things during torture," Dracula's voice lingered over the word 'torture' as though it were a special pleasure of his.

"Was that a threat?" Willow asked coldly, any trace of humor disappeared completely from her voice. She adjusted her stance slightly in readiness for the first move. The idea of being tortured by Dracula himself was already starting to cast an unsavory light on the evening's proceedings…making her all too aware of the high stakes she was playing with. Willow knew that she needed to be the one walking away from this fight.

They circled each other warily, two carefully poised figures moving amidst the headstones, completely ignoring the rain that fell around them. As it appeared that neither wanted to make the first move, Willow darted forward. She sprang lightly atop a nearby headstone to gain additional leverage and brought her blade crashing downwards as she leapt down. Her blade sliced through nothing but air as Dracula's form dissolved.

Willow sensed him reappear behind her, she whirled and already had her blade raised to block his stroke. She was far from worried as he dissolved a second time, knowing that he tired eventually. It was just a matter of keeping her wits about her lest he surprise her with a sudden strike when she was caught off guard.

"I suppose you think this is terribly unfair?" he laughed as he reformed for the fourth or fifth time, this time several meters away from Willow.

"No," Willow replied, hastily dragging a clump of soggy hair from her eyes before assuming another attacking stance, "It proves your cowardice!"

When she moved forward once more, she found him there to match each of her blows in his solid form. Far from being unnerved, Willow was pleased to find that her words had an effect on the vampire. They continued to par every move the other made, the clash of blades ringing out over the sound of falling rain. The pair were evenly matched without a doubt, Willow's technique and finesse was matched by Dracula's strength. She did not block his blows directly but rather let them glance of her blade so as to lessen the shock to her body.

One backhanded blow slid from her sword and as he overbalanced Willow thrust firmly towards his chest. Dracula barely managed to stumble backwards, the closeness of Willow's strike revealed by the tear in his coat from the tip of her blade.

Dracula danced aside lightly from the narrow miss and flourished his blade in his hand, moving as though his feet did not even need to touch the ground, "You are talented without a doubt…but I think you have lost something with your reincarnation. Willow Van Helsing possessed an air of wild fearlessness that made her powerful…you are nothing but a poor copy."

Although Willow knew that she could not afford to let him bait her, his words hit home cruelly. As if to prove him wrong, she pressed forward her next attack immediately. Her feet moved rapidly across the now rain soaked grass. The silver sword in her hand moved to match in a flurry of carefully timed strokes. Dracula matched her delicacy with sheer brute force, smashing his sword into hers at each stroke.

She growled angrily and became even more determined in her attacks. Her determination steadily began to erode her concentration. Now, once beautiful strokes became clumsy in increasingly desperate attacks.

It was the last straw and her temper flared as she retorted, "Shut up you foul piece of filth!"

The tip of her blade fell as she forgot her stance as she concentrated on arguing with words. Before she could even think about blocking his next stroke, it stroke crashed against the top of her breastplate. The stroke violently jarred her sword arm and she lost her grip. Before she could regain her balance he lashed out and backhanded her across the face, a powerful blow which sent her reeling in a daze. Willow stumbled, her feet did not appear to work properly…either that or the ground was moving beneath her feet. She was dimly aware of rough hands on the back of her coat, seizing fistfuls of the fabric in order to get a firm grip. She was helpless to stop him from throwing her forward. Although her vision was already clouded, she clearly saw the marble tombstone rushing towards her. Then there was nothing but pain and impenetrable fog.

Dracula felt a final thrill of exhilaration as he released Willow and sent her flying headfirst into the grave stone. With a resounding crack her head struck the tarnished marble and when she came to rest in the wet grass she was unconscious. He was not about to lower his guard even when she lay motionless. His sword remained unsheathed as he advanced towards her prone form. He reached out with the toe of his boot and nudged her body. There was not even a groan as she rolled over onto her back. Thick dark blood welled from a contusion at her hairline and he stared fixedly at it even as it was diluted by the pouring rain.

Finally he allowed himself to relax enough to go down on one knee at her side. He stared down at the creamy skin of the woman laid out in front of him and felt a primal longing in his loins to take her in the middle of the cemetery in the pouring rain. No woman since Tara had commanded such a power over him. He was transfixed at the sight of her blue veins throbbing just beneath the pale skin of her throat.

He reached his hand towards her, already anticipating the feel of her skin to his touch. However he stopped just inches from her face, knowing that one touch would be too much for him to bear. He would wait until his patience could be rewarded with a quiet space in which he would not be disturbed with his prize.

The pleasant thoughts that were running through his mind were rudely disrupted a moment later as a solid force seized him and tossed him backwards. He flew several meters threw the air, his momentum arrested only as his back hit the side of a crypt with such intensity that the crumbling wall cracked and gave way slightly.

When he returned himself to his feet he saw a familiar figure through the rain, standing protectively over the body of Willow Van Helsing. Dracula straightened and stood staring at a distance. Her fierce blue gaze pierced both darkness and rain. He knew in those eyes that something had changed within his favorite companion…and he immediately did not like it.

"Tara?" he asked cautiously as he approached, his boots barely sinking into the puddles beneath his feet.

She pushed back her hood even though it was clear that he had doubt as to who she was. The rain fell on her white blonde hair.

"William was kind enough to fill me in on your plan," she answered as he drew near, "Apparently you no longer trust me."

He shook his head in an effort to dispel that notion, "Of course I trust you my pet, I merely sought to attempt a new tactic with our mortal friend…a tactic which I am sure you and I will enjoy sharing in immensely."

His words left Tara under no disillusion as to what he intended. She cringed as she remembered his 'sport' with the red haired young woman some years ago and her own dreadful part in that death. History would be repeating itself, only this time he intended it to be the real Willow helpless beneath his powerful body. His words also left her absolutely no choice as to her course of actions. It was over. All pretence at maintaining her role as his partner would be stripped away and her treachery would be laid bare before her former master. Tara felt an amount of exhilaration and relief at finally being able to step out from beneath his twisted shadow even though she knew she would be signing her own death warrant.

He smirked appreciatively, "I realize that you would not want to share this particular mortal…you would rather have her all to yourself but you must understand that I have a great deal invested in Willow Van Helsing, she must tell me where the skull is…"

Dracula hesitated in his reply. Such insubordination would have been swiftly punished had it been any mere underling but it was a sign of the hold that Tara possessed over him that he appeared confused, "Tara, my darling…"

Tara saw this confusion and used it to her advantage. Cautiously she lowered herself to the ground at Willow's side and dared for a moment to glance down. Her gaze first fell on the blood flowing from Willow's head and her almost colorless skin. The worst however was quickly dispelled when she saw the gentle rise and fall of Willow's chest. With an overly cautious touch lest Willow be seriously injured, Tara reached out and placed one arm beneath her limp body. She cradled the unconscious woman in her lap protectively before returning her gaze to the vampire moving slowly towards her. His eyes widened as he realized her intentions.

"Think carefully before you do this, Tara," Dracula whispered in a dreadful tone that was tinged with ice and fire, "If you choose that mortal over me then I shall be forced to hunt you down…and I promise you that there will be nowhere on earth for you to run!"

"I chose this mortal over you years ago!" Tara admitted proudly, "Do you really think that a soulled vampire would continue to be your loyal servant, would continue to do the foul things you order and not rebel?"

"You are still one of us!" he roared, making a sudden lunge towards Tara and Willow.

He was already too late. Tara had already begun mouthing the complex words of a transportation spell beneath her breath. By the time his fingers reached the space she had occupied, she was already gone…and Willow along with her.

"For god's sake, Myles!" Faith growled in exasperation as she examined the flurry of arrows protruding from one of the practice dummies in the Gordon Square training room, "The target isn't that small…you should at least be able to hit it!"

Faith gave a rather loud snort of disgust as she retrieved Myles's crossbow bolt. Instead of striking the target, the bolt had hit the brick wall to one side and the silver head had bent so as to make it unusable. She sighed and wondered if dummy wooden bolts would work as well in training, especially given that Myles had an uncanny knack for putting the bolt everywhere except the target. Just yesterday he had narrowly missed her ear when he released his crossbow by mistake.

Having retrieved the bolt, she marched back to the red-faced young man and stabbed it at the weapon Myles clutched in his hands, "What's so difficult? Here's the crossbow, there's the target…fire, and hit it!"

Myles ducked his head for a moment and bit his lip in the face of Faith's tirade, when he lifted his gaze he appeared to be steeling himself to say something.

"Why, what's wrong with me?" Faith asked indignantly, "I'm a far better shot than Willow!"

"Well," Myles began tentatively, "You're not a very good teacher. You are rather impatient and you don't explain things very well…you just expect me to be able to perform every task perfectly."

Faith narrowed her eyes as though she was about to launch into another furious speech. However, her expression softened and she sighed resignedly, "I'm sorry Myles…you have to understand that I'm hard on you for your own good. This isn't a game…if you miss a vampire with your bolt on the first go; it's highly unlikely that they will just line up for a second shot."

"I know," Myles nodded fervently, his understanding came a little too quickly for Faith, she held out her hand for the cross bow and he passed it over reluctantly.

"Perhaps I was a little too hard on you…" Faith admitted as the expression on his face tugged at some deeply buried reserve of pity.

"Only if I don't murder you in your sleep," Faith replied with a frustrated sigh, "Now scoot…and don't forget to wash behind your ears before you go to bed."

Faith watched the young man practically skip out of the training room and shook her head slowly. She did not want to be the one to tell him that all the enthusiasm in the world did not make up for a complete lack of co- ordination.

To work out her frustration, she selected a wooden stave from the rack of weapons and began moving through some simple exercises. She concentrated on fluidity and timing as opposed to speed and strength with the aim of bringing about a peaceful state of mind that would help her to sleep.

However, she had completed less than a dozen forms when the air rippled in front of her just as she took a step backwards. A blast of cold, wet air slapped her in the face. She was knocked off balance and the staff was torn from her loose grip. A dark shape materialized out of nowhere and hit the mats with a dull thud.

"Bloody hell!" she yelped, cursing herself for not having any weapon close at hand other than a large stick.

Faith glanced at the spot where she had been standing moments earlier and her eyes widened when she saw two bodies lying on the training room floor amidst a pool of water. Both were clad entirely in black but she recognized them instantly. The blonde haired vampire appeared even paler than usual but her eyes were open and staring at the ceiling above her head. At her side lay Willow, apparently unconscious, with fresh blood coating the side of her face.

Tara tried to lift her head but even such a simple act proved impossible. Her entire body felt like a puddle except for her head wherein her brain pounded against her skull in a manner that was definitely unnatural. She had to close her eyes. Despite her pain, she was dimly aware of a weight lying against her side and knew that Willow had made the journey with her.

The transportation spell was without a doubt dangerous but she knew it had been her only means of whisking Willow out from beneath Dracula's clutches. Whatever the state she was now in, she was fervently glad that she had risked it. The thought of Willow being tortured by her former master made her sick to the stomach.

Giving herself a few more moments to just breathe, she then opened her eyes and immediately found herself staring into a pair of hard eyes. Faith's presence confirmed to Tara that she had successfully reached her intended destination; she and Willow were safely within the walls of Gordon Square.

With a second, more concentrated effort, Tara found that she was able to sit. She rose and steeled herself for the inevitable spasms of pain behind her eyes.

Faith's concern was solely directed towards the redhead lying at Tara's side, "What have you done to her?"

"I should think the more relevant question would be why did you let her leave the house at night?" Tara growled. "Dracula found her…and he had every intention of torturing her for the whereabouts of the skull before I showed up."

"I let her do no such thing!" Faith replied indignantly. "Even if I did, do you really think that I could keep Willow locked up when she wanted to leave?"

Tara knew Willow and she knew what the answer would be, she shook her head slowly, "I think Willow will be fine…"

"Can we not heal her…as you did at Covasna?" Faith asked, peering worriedly at the wound.

"It is best not to try," Tara admitted, "I acted out of sheer desperation in that instance, it was dangerous for all three of us…I think that she will recover just as swiftly if I do not intervene."

Faith nodded. She brushed Tara aside and picked Willow up in her arms. Although they were of a similar size, Faith appeared not to be troubled by the weight. It was all Tara could do to follow after her as she moved back up into the house proper, continuing up the stairs to the first floor.

Tara felt strange entering Willow's personal sanctuary for the first time in over quarter of a century but she tried not to let it show. It was not difficult; there was very little expression she could show on her face other than exhaustion. Her gaze ran discreetly over the furnishings which were all simple for the most part save for the elaborate mirror which Tara recalled all too well. She was surprised Willow kept the thing in her room, Tara shivered just to look at it.

As Faith settled Willow back against the covers, Tara crossed to assist her. Together they removed Willow's soaking wet coat, breastplate and boots. Faith cast a daggered look that made her step back and leave the removal of Willow's trousers to her. Tara looked aside so as not to be forced to watch Faith's hands sliding down Willow's legs. As she did, she could not help but notice the small framed portrait of herself that sat on the bedside table. She hardly recognized that young girl. It was a portrait of somebody else, from another time.

Tara wrenched her gaze away from the portrait and met Faith's hard-edged stare. The brunette was obviously unapologetic in her loathing.

"I-I do not know," Tara replied. She paused and tried to prevent the wretched stammer from creeping back into her voice, "Perhaps you should ask Willow."

And yet you mentioning it at all would stand to reason otherwise, Tara thought bitterly. Her shoulders slumped wearily and she could hardly keep her chin aloft as she stood at Willow's beside. She honestly wanted nothing more than to fold herself onto the bed next to Willow.

"You know, you're more than welcome to stay the night as well," Faith announced grudgingly as she noticed the vampire swaying slightly.

Tara glanced up. She was genuinely surprised by the invitation even though she did not sense the brunette's voice to be welcoming at all. After another glance at Willow she decided that no harm could come of it while she slept and she inclined her head slightly in acceptance.

"If you don't mind…" Tara paused and swallowed awkwardly, she hardly even dared to think about the possibility that she could be near Willow for any length of time, "…I think I'll stay at Willow's side for a little while."

"I do mind," Faith replied testily, but her expression softened as soon as she recognized the desperately hopeful look in Tara's eyes. Her next admission was grudging at best, "Although I suppose it cannot hurt."

Faith hovered protectively over the bed for another minute before the tense air between her and Tara grew a little too intense. With a curt nod in the vampire's direction, she took her leave.

On her way out of the room, Faith paused at the threshold. She turned back towards Tara and the vampire glanced up as she sensed that she was being watched, "Can I ask you a question?" Faith asked quietly.

"Of course," Tara raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise, she was curious to know what Faith could possibly want from her.

"Since she was a girl, but a quarter of a century is hardly a long time when you consider all the years I have walked this earth," Tara explained, she could not help but wonder what motive lay behind Faith's question.

"I'm not interested in your life history," Faith interrupted rudely; "I just want to know if you've ever had sex with her!"

Tara's eyes fluttered wide open at the unexpected question, "With Lara? No!" she spluttered vehemently. She breathed deeply several times and when she continued her voice had returned to its usual calm monotone, "Most definitely not, Faith. I think of Lara as a sister…that is how it has always been between us. Is there anything more I can say to convince you that I am telling the truth?"

"No," Faith replied, embarrassed to have even asked the question. She nodded once more and moved out of the room.

Tara watched as Faith left, before leaving her alone with Willow, she pointedly drew the door only half way closed. Despite her acceptance of Tara's promise that she had not slept with Lara, Faith was still not about to trust her. She half expected that the brunette would set up camp just outside the door but moments later she heard her footsteps sounding down the hall as Faith moved towards her own room.

Tara then turned her attention back to Willow. She selected a bottle of tincture of iodine from the medical kit Faith had left on the table and doused a ball of cotton wool in the foul smelling liquid. When she gently touched the soft wool to the cut at Willow's head, the redhead jumped slightly and murmured a word that might have been 'ouch.' Tara continued cleaning the wound and was pleased to find that it was not deep enough to require stitches. Willow would however have a rather large, ugly bump on her head for at least a week.

At some point during her ministrations Willow's eyes had fluttered open. Tara froze, her hand poised above Willow's forehead in the act of cleaning her wound. However, as she stared into the watery green pools, she saw the fog that clouded Willow's gaze and realized that she was only semi-conscious. Still, there was recognition in Willow's eyes, they widened slightly and her mouth worked as though she were trying to say something.

"Is there no end to your foolishness?" Tara whispered as she set aside the iodine and bloody piece of cotton. "Despite what you may think, you are no match for him." Willow's face immediately contorted as though she wished to vehemently disagree with Tara's observation; however the only sound that emerged from her mouth was an angry grunt. Tara then pressed her finger gently to Willow's lips to quiet her and had to suppress a slight shiver at the feel of the silken skin beneath her touch, "You needn't try and talk now, dearest; I will be here when you wake."

A small smile curled the corners of those silken lips and Willow allowed her exhaustion to take hold. Her eyelids slid closed once again and Tara watched her carefully until the soft rhythms of her breathing indicated that she was peacefully asleep.

Although Tara regretted breaking her whispered promise to Willow, she knew she could not stay at Gordon Square. Willow would be in no condition for a confrontation when she woke…and Tara had very little energy and absolutely no desire for one herself. Before she left Willow's side, she gave into temptation and deposited a gentle kiss on Willow's forehead. Even such a small act was difficult and she had to wrench herself away from the contact.

Tara then returned to the night. Something was different. It did not take any thought on her part to know exactly what it was. She was no longer a hunter in this environment…she was the hunted.

For a moment she wished she had the courage to return to Gordon Square and face Willow's judgment when she woke but Tara acknowledged that this was an option she could not choose, not yet. Tara steeled herself. She did have choices…and one of them was not to bow down to her former master. She refused to skulk in the shadows for anyone, least of all Dracula. He could send as many assassins after her as he liked…and she would send each one back to him as a little box of dust!

As she awoke with her mind still fogged with sleep, Willow's immediate instinct was to bolt upright and scan her surroundings for any sign of danger. She found herself in the middle of her bed at Gordon Square. The royal blue covers were tucked securely around her legs and there was no sign of another soul, friend or foe, in the room. Despite the coast being clear, she felt as though there were piercing eyes watching and hunting her even in the supposed safety of her own home. Willow's next instinct was to find the sturdiest piece of furniture and crawl beneath it. However as she peeled back the covers and prepared to make a swift exit from the bed, the fog addling her brain finally lifted and she was able to experience a full spectrum of pain as her brain thumped against the inside of her skull. With a weak cry she stopped moving, remaining upright only long enough to acknowledge that she had to lie down once more. Gingerly she brought her aching head to rest on the pillows beneath her, trying to bury her head in their feathers as though that would put an end to the pounding.

She heard the door creak open but she could not muster the strength to fight or flee and continued to submerge her pain in the pillow. Willow heard someone crossing the room, approaching the bed and then there was the dull clunk of something being set down on the small table beside her bed. The smell of food reached her nostrils and immediately her stomach heaved in protest at the possibility of ingesting being forced to ingest food. A few moments later she was able to recognize cabbage soup and fresh bread. The aroma of even such simple fare seemed pungently unbearable.

"Faith?" Willow tried to lift her head from the pillow. The second time around was no easier, she managed to push herself over onto her back so she could at least look at her friend. A tiny shaft of light sneaking through the otherwise closed curtains did not improve her headache. "Oh god, I feel as though someone has rammed my head repeatedly into a stone wall."

"That's because someone did ram your head into a stone wall," Faith answered in a matter-of-fact tone. "It didn't make you any prettier."

Willow could not even manage a smile in response to Faith's gentle jibe; instead she re-closed her eyes and tried to remember the events that had put her in bed with a head that felt as though it had been used for a football. When she lifted her hand to her head, she found it wrapped in a soft bandage. Even through the padding, her head felt extremely tender to the touch.

"I remember fighting Dracula…" Willow whispered as her fingers lingered over the bandage. "As much as I do not want to admit it, I think he had the upper hand…"

She remembered their duel in the rain soaked cemetery, the feeling of exhilaration as she clashed blades with the Lord of Vampires…and then she remembered the rage that had flowed through her veins as he taunted her mercilessly. A rage that had undoubtedly led to her defeat as her careful control gave way to desperation.

Willow let out a ragged sigh as she opened her eyes once more, "I let him bait me with his nonsense. Faith, I am truly an imbecile."

"I will not disagree with you there," Faith replied pointedly, she turned and reached for the soup that was sending tantalizing tendrils of steam into the air. "You've slept for almost twelve hours…I was beginning to worry you wouldn't wake up until I heard you moaning away in your sleep."

"What did I say?" Willow asked as she eyed the soup warily as Faith balanced it on her lap.

"Nothing that should be repeated in polite company," Faith winked, as Willow prodded for further information with a demanding glance she continued, "Something about making love on the stairs…you were rather vocal."

"Oh," Willow muttered, her face flushing a gorgeous scarlet. As she struggled to overcome her embarrassment, she heard the clink of the spoon against the bowl as Faith scooped a spoonful of the cabbage soup. Her stomach heaved just at the sound. "Please, I honestly can't stomach the thought of eating that."

Faith glanced down at the soup, "There's nothing wrong with it, I was raised on cabbage soup and it's perfectly fine…"

"No, not the soup…any food!" as soon as she gasped the words out, Willow retched painfully, her stomach was already empty so nothing emerged. However Faith very wisely took the hint and set the bowl back down with a shrug. "Sorry," Willow whispered, "Do you know what happened…I should be waking up in a torture chamber somewhere, not safe in my own bed."

The last thing she remembered was lying in the mud with Dracula's hands grasping at her clothing, then she supposed Dracula had rammed her into the aforementioned tombstone….and then there was only darkness. Given that she had set out alone without informing anyone, it seemed impossible that the evening could turn out as it had with no cavalry coming to her rescue. Willow searched Faith's expression for any hint of rebuke but she found nothing save concern and more than a hint of exhaustion about her eyes.

Willow's eyes opened wide and she tried to rise from her pillows once again, a multitude of almost incomprehensible questions burst forth from her lips all at once, "Tara? How? Where is she? Is she still here? Faith, can I see her?"

Even as Willow began to sway in her semi-upright position, Faith reached out and clamped a hand firmly on each shoulder, "Calm down, Will, you'll do yourself further damage if you work yourself into a state."

It took some effort for Willow to force herself to look at Faith as opposed to the door in the faint hope that she would see Tara standing there, a small smile on her face. She drew in a deep breath and allowed Faith to place an additional pillow at her back before she lay down, now propped up at a better angle. Her head still pounded but the pain had lessened somewhat and the soup was almost making her mouth water.

"I can't remember anything after falling to the ground at Dracula's feet…I don't remember Tara being there at all…or bringing me here," Willow admitted, desperately trying to dredge up an image of Tara hovering above her with her lips slightly parted in concern and tears misting in her eyes.

"She used some sort of spell, I was alone in the training room and in the next instant I was almost flattened by the two of you appearing out of nowhere, soaking wet and you all bloodied. Although how she swiped you out from beneath Dracula's nose I cannot say…that will be a question you will have to ask of her," Faith explained gently. "I left her alone in the room with you last night…but when I checked an hour later she was gone."

"She stayed with me?" Willow whispered, closing her eyes. The image of Tara hovering over her sleeping form came easily into her mind and she smiled as broadly as her headache would allow her.

"Against my better judgment," Faith growled, annoyed at what she perceived as an insipid expression on Willow's face. "Although she didn't slay you in your sleep so I suppose my concerns were unfounded."

Willow's pleasant imaginings did not last long. She thought of Tara leaving Gordon Square and wondered at her reasons for going. Other speculations came into her mind, darker suspicions that she could not give voice to…and an element of doubt as to the blonde vampire's intentions. Tara had betrayed her once before. Willow could not rule out the possibility that her 'rescue' was merely another ply on Tara's part as she was still in league with Dracula. Still, the alternative also came to mind. Tara had defied Dracula to swipe her out from beneath his nose and her life was in danger because of it. It was almost too much for Willow's mind to process.

"I'm sorry she didn't," Faith replied, the crestfallen expression on Willow's face was more than enough to make her regret behaving so coldly to Tara that previous evening. She retrieved the soup bowl, "Eat something…regain your strength, and I promise we'll find Tara…regardless of her plans."

Willow nodded in agreement, Faith knew her too well. She refused to be spoon-fed and swiped the bowl and spoon from Faith's careful grasp.

Faith may have been raised on cabbage soup but she most definitely could not make it herself. The soup was awful…but a determined Willow ate every, single drop.

As Willow ate she knew that Faith was right; regardless of Tara's plans…she had to be found.

Tara watched as the last of the sun's rays disappeared below the horizon. Soon the city would be shrouded in darkness and they would come for her. She did not know how many he would send, whether they would be instructed to destroy her or drag her back to him in chains…but she did know that they would come.

When she eventually stood alone in the completely dark city, Tara did not seek the sanctuary of the shadows. Instead she continued walking down the middle of the street in a bold challenge to those demons who would seek to confront her.

When they came, the five came as one. They were a wave of vampires that surged from the shadows around her in every direction. Tara did not run, she knew that to do so once would mean she would be running always. The vampires tried to strike as one but Tara rose up out of their reaching grasp, as she did her body transformed into the dark mist of her other form. When she descended she engulfed one of the vampires below her, swirling about him and blinding him. The vampire was not as old as Tara, he screamed an awful sound as his arms flailed about his head in a vain attempt to wave away the oppressive force that assaulted him. Tara moved to encircle another of the vampires, throwing the small group into confusion. When Tara's body solidified once again she was standing in front of a female vampire with closely cropped blonde hair. If the female was surprised to find her own sword in Tara's hand, the expression did not have time to register on her face. A split second after Tara had formed with her feet solidly on the ground she brought the slender sword around in a savage swing. The vampire's head fell from her shoulders and hit the ground; it rolled and came to rest in the center of the remaining four vampires. Tara stood facing them with her bloodied sword, daring the next to come at her.

"You cannot run from our Master forever!" the nearest growled, he stabbed a trembling finger in Tara's direction.

"I am not running," Tara replied calmly, extending the point of her sword towards the quartet of vampires, "It is not my back but my face that you see…and the sword in my hand, leave me be or you will taste the same dusty fate as your companion."

What happened next definitely cleared up any doubt as to Dracula's orders regarding Tara. None of the vampires heeded her warning; all four surged forward with their own weapons drawn. The vampire who had challenged her wielded a sword of his own; he was clad in tight leathers that bared his whip- cord thin arms. Tara met his blade, her cloak swirling like liquid through the air as she moved. They danced across the cobbles and their blades clashed, a metallic clang ringing out with each strike. The fierce power behind her strokes forced him to the ground. Even as he fell a second female vampire took his place quickly, twin knives in her hands. Lined up on either side of her were a pair of burly male vampires whose matching haircuts and clothing made them appeared identical. Both obviously preferred their fists.

The knife-wielding vampire came at Tara with the knives whirling in her skilled fingers. Tara caught one hand in the fold of her cloak, the vampire's wrist tangled and the blade was trapped, usable. However the loss of one blade did not distract her and she brought the other whipping around to slice through Tara's sleeve.

Tara did not flinch as she felt the razor sharp metal nip at her flesh. She twisted around completely, her opponents arm was still caught in her cloak. It meant that she was unable to strike again quickly. With a deft flick of her wrist, Tara reversed her blade and drove it backwards. Her blade plunged through the soft flesh of the vampire's stomach until it was buried almost to the hilt. When she turned the trapped female was snarling with rage, lashing out wildly with her knife. Tara caught her wrist with her free hand and with a savage twist, broke the bone, the audible snap ringing out in the night air.

Crack! Tara was sent sprawling sideways as one of the burly vampires stepped between her and the screeching vampire skewered on her blade. She lost her grip and went stumbling backwards, hitting something solid. Before she could turn, her arms were pinned behind her back by the remaining vampire.

Even as she struggled violently, her assailant struck her a second time. His knuckles split the skin above her eye and Tara was barely able to suppress the cry that she wanted to make.

However, she recovered quickly and defiantly thrust her chin forward. She calmly met the gaze of the vampire in front of her with her piercing blue eyes challenging him to strike her again. However, just as she expected the next blow to smash into her face she saw him pause with a look of shock passing across his face. A second later Tara felt the firm grip restraining her disappear, dust swirled past her body. Instinctively she stepped to one side and was not surprised to see a crossbow bolt slam into the vampire who moments earlier had been mercilessly pummeling her with his fists. The look of surprise was still fixed on his face as his body exploded.

When Tara turned she saw a vision of power and death striding towards her. Clad in scarlet leather, with her dark hair swirling about her face and a spent crossbow held in her hand, Faith flicked a tiny smile in Tara's direction. She tossed the crossbow to the cobbles and with a wide flourish drew her silver sword.

There were now only two vampires remaining. The female one Tara had gutted earlier had drawn the sword from her own belly and was wielding it like an angry banshee. With a shriek she hurled herself towards Faith. Her efforts were greeted with a hoarse laugh from Faith who no doubt viewed the impending contest as terribly uneven.

A weaponless Tara was left to face the thin vampire she had brushed aside first. It was clear his pride had been damaged and he was eager to see her pay for it. With blood now trickling into her eyes, Tara stumbled backwards awkwardly as he came surging towards her.

Time almost stopped, Tara saw the vampire falling towards her with his blade drawn out behind him. In mere seconds he would bring it sweeping towards her neck. Tara stared at oblivion and found herself surprised to be welcoming it.

Tara whirled and plucked the stake the Faith tossed out of the air. She used the vampire's own momentum as he came at her and he drove himself forward onto the wood. The air was forced from her lungs as he came crashing down atop her and knocked her to the ground. A split second later however he exploded in a gritty shower of dust.

Clutching the stake to her chest, Tara tried to rise to her feet but she found her legs would not support her. With the dust from the vampire she had slain still swirling about her, Tara sank to her knees in the damp earth. As she struggled for breath, she realized that she had not eaten for days and her strength was almost exhausted. She was forced to face the fact that she would need to feed if she expected to be able to survive on the streets. The hunted needed their strength. Faith's footsteps sounded firmly on the cobbles behind her. She glanced over her shoulder but did not rise to her feet.

"Are you trying to wind up dusted…or dead, or whatever the hell happens to a vampire with a bloody soul?" Faith demanded as she slid her bloody sword into its scabbard. She cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes with curiosity, "How can you be killed anyway?"

Faith realized her curiosity was hardly important and she waved it aside. She reached out her hand towards Tara. After staring at it for a moment, Tara clasped the offered hand and allowed Faith to draw her back to her feet. The two women continued to stare at one another before something broke inside Faith and she sighed.

"You left the safety of the house for this?" Faith asked, indicating the stake in Tara's hand and the dust of several vampires coating her cloak.

"You should not care what I want…Willow wanted you to stay!" Faith fired back.

"I would prefer not to set foot in that house," was all Tara would say, refusing to be baited by Faith's angry demands.

Faith's fists were clenched at her sides; she was obviously contemplating whether she could force Tara to accompany her back to Gordon Square. She eventually realized that short of seizing Tara by the hair, there was no way the blonde vampire would agree to accompany her.

"If not to Gordon Square, then at least allow me to escort you to the museum. You would be even safer there," Faith suggested, there was no trace of reluctance in her voice as there had been the previous evening.

Tara looked steadily at Faith, she knew that acceptance of any such offer would require admitting to herself that she could no longer stubbornly stand apart and alone from those around her.

She also remembered the brief moment during which Willow gazed into her eyes and her heart fluttered as she dared to hope that the gaze was something other than that of a delirious woman. Finally, she allowed herself to make the curt nod that was the first step towards reconciliation.

Willow shifted in her bed in a vain effort to find some measure of comfort and warmth. However, no matter how soft the feathers in her pillow or mattress, or how many blankets her friends piled atop her body, she could not seem to reach either state.

Thankfully, the throbbing in her head had eased somewhat following food and a little sleep but she could not stomach the thought of remaining in bed for yet another day. Mindful that Faith could be waiting just beyond her door, ready to pounce if she tried to leave her room, Willow rose and tugged on a thick velvet robe over her woolen underwear.

Faith was not lying in wait just beyond her door, however as she crept downstairs she heard a great deal of noise emanating from the kitchen. The clash of pots and pans was accompanied by a series of foul epithets at regular intervals. Willow suspected that Faith was trying to concoct another batch of her cabbage soup…or something equally as unpalatable. Wanting to avoid a confrontation, Willow moved instead into the library and down the hidden passageway to the training room. Once she was within the room, with its familiar smells of sweat and polish, she felt somewhat at ease. Training of any sort was out of the question but Willow could still run her hands over each of the weapons, feel their strength at her fingertips and see if any needed attention. She was almost disappointed to find each blade sharp; no doubt Faith had kept Myles busy for many hours honing each blade to perfection.

She then crossed to the heavily laden bookshelves. Their leather spines were free of dust but they were packed in tightly, too neatly, as though they had not been disturbed in their slumber for some time. Willow continued to run her hands over their spines as though reassuring them that despite her newfound skills, she still cared for the written word as much as she ever had.

Willow paused with her hand on one particular volume. She let her fingers linger for a moment before she felt a chill run through her body. Moments after reading the title, she snatched her hand away and took a step backwards. Most Horrid Magicks. She continued to stare at the black, otherwise innocuous spine, its gilt lettering seeming to glimmer slightly in the light.

Part of Willow wanted to turn her back on the book run from the training room…it was the sensible part of her she knew she ought to listen to. However, Willow found herself subconsciously reaching towards the book once more and it was as though she were watching herself from afar. Her fingers closed once more on the spine, she felt chilled once more, clearly in anticipation of what lay beyond the hidden doorway.

With one savage tug, she dislodged Most Horrid Magicks from its place between its neighbors. She then snatched her hand away, as though afraid of what she had just done. Indeed, she felt as though she had unleashed a savage beast.

At first nothing happened, the training room was silent save for her own urgent breathing. Almost a minute passed until Willow heard the sound of grinding bones and gears creaking in protest at being disturbed. A section of the bookcase jolted slightly, dislodging decade's worth of dust from hidden crevices and other places Myles had not cared to clean. Very slowly, the bookcase swung inward to expose a dark passageway. Willow was immediately assaulted by a bevy of aromas, all indistinguishable at first. However as she stood fixed in the doorway she realized that although it was made up of damp, rot, earth and stale air, the aroma was that of utter despair.

She had no desire to venture into that dark place but something compelled her inwards, a desire to know, to experience the hell that lay within. Willow tentatively planted one foot after the other. With each step she felt an increasing weight bear down on her slender shoulders.

It was dark. No light shone from within and little of the training room's light seemed to penetrate beyond an invisible line on the floor where the bookcase had stood. Willow paused for another moment to give her eyes the chance to adjust to the gloom. Gradually she made out the roughly hewn stone walls that surrounded her and the one place where they gave way to a door. The rusted iron bars had been left open. Drawing a deep breath, Willow stepped through the door and into Tara's cell.

The darkness within the cell was overwhelming, it hemmed her in from all sides and threatened to collapse in on her and seal her in the cell forever. A strangled cry escaped her throat as she was driven to her knees by the weight of the emotions sealed within the room. She remained there for several minutes, gasping for much needed air as she struggled to overcome her terror.

Willow did not succeed but as her breathing evened out and she was able to lift her chin up, she realized she never would. The stones within the cell held too much suffering to allow her to relax. Her eyes roamed over the long dried bloodstains on the floor and walls of the cell. She almost cried when she saw the desperate scratches in the stone, scratches made by mere fingernails.

She had been in the cell for the barest fraction of time compared to the years Tara spent imprisoned and yet already she marveled that her former lover could have survived.

"Because you loved me…" Willow whispered. As her own small voice filled the chamber she wondered what Tara had said during all those years she was alone in the dark, had she spoken at all? She remembered the vision Giles had shown her and the half-mad creature that had he and Jeremiah Croft had released from the cell.

With an immense effort, Willow pushed herself to her feet and stumbled towards the door of the cell. She felt as though her limbs were moving through quicksand and try as she might, she could move no faster. When she finally did break through into the training room she was coughing and gasping for air as though she had been drowning.

At the moment that Willow emerged from the passage way, Faith entered the training room. It had obviously been the brunette's intention to train but as she saw Willow stumbling out into the room in front of her, all thoughts of pummeling practice dummies was wiped instantly. She watched as Willow tottered on unsteady legs.

"Will?" Faith dashed quickly across the training room just in time to wrap her arms around Willow's waist and hold her firmly upright. She cast a quick glance in the direction Willow had come and saw nothing but darkness, leading to what she did not know. When she looked at Willow, she found that all color had drained from the redhead's face, she was as white as the bandage wrapped around her head. "You're as white as a sheet! What the bloody heck were you doing down there?"

"I had to see what it was like for her…it was the only way I could think of to be close to her," Willow whispered in a broken voice. "I needed…"

"You need nothing but rest!" Faith interrupted in an angry voice, clearly disturbed by the manner in which Willow was acting. She saw the wild look in Willow's eyes and felt the tremors running through her body as she held her.

Willow however was not interested in Faith's concerns. "Faith, please!" she protested as she mustered the strongest voice she could manage, "Let me be…I'm just feeling a little faint tis all."

"And you will keel over and hit your head!" Faith growled in annoyance as Willow tried to shrug out of her grasp. "What are you even doing out of bed?"

When Willow tried to shrug out of her grip for the second time, Faith reluctantly released her but hovered close in case she appeared at all unsteady. However, Willow was no longer focused on remaining upright; she was staring back over her shoulder at the doorway from which she had just emerged. Faith followed her gaze and suppressed a shiver of her own at the sight of the dark passage. However well lit the training room was, no light filtered through the bookcase doorway. It was as though all the light had been swallowed.

"Will, what the devil is down there?" Faith asked quietly. The only immediate reply from her friend was a noticeable shiver. She started towards the passage to see for herself but Willow's hand shot out and grasped her own before she could move past her. "Will?"

"Sorrow lingers there," Willow whispered, convinced Faith would not try and enter the passage; she let go of her hand. "Faith, would you be so kind as to destroy the door mechanism and board up the passage? I know it seems rather trivial when there are more pressing matters at hand…"

"Then Myles and I shall do it immediately," Faith reassured her with another brief touch on Willow's arm, "However, only if you promise to return to bed."

Willow nodded again in reply. She took one last look at the passage leading to Tara's cell before gratefully turning her back on it. The boarding up and sealing of the entrance would go some way to easing her ill feelings about the place but she knew she would not be able to rid herself of the memory of being within that space. As long as she lived at Gordon Square, she would be aware of the presence of the cell beneath the house.

As Faith watched Willow walk away she contemplated calling out to her, letting her know that she had been forced to save Tara's life just hours ago and that she was now in the Museum's basement. However, she remembered the blankness in Willow's eyes and now saw her slumped shoulders as she trudged towards the stairs. It could wait.

Oblivious to Faith's concerns, Willow made her way back to her room. She felt as though her skin was crawling with filth after being in the god-awful cell. While she wanted nothing more than a bath she did not want to summon Faith or Myles to have them draw one for her and she already knew that they would not allow her to tote her own buckets of hot water. She settled for dashing a liberal amount of water from the pitcher atop her dresser into its matching bowl and scrubbed at every inch of exposed skin. After her effort, she glanced in her mirror to find her face, neck and lower arms red raw. Still she felt filthy.

With her head pounding once again, Willow eased herself down onto her bed and closed her eyes. However, as soon as her vision descended into darkness, images of the cell came unbidden into her mind and along with them, an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia and oppression. Her eyes flew open as she found herself struggling for a breath with a thin sheen of sweat covering her brow as though she had been back in the cell. When she turned her head, searching for the light pouring in the window, her gaze was instead drawn to the portrait of Tara perched on her bedside table. The portrait's small smile seemed sad as though she understood all too well what Willow felt.

Without hesitation, Willow reached out and picked up the frame. She held it close; so close that Tara's face was the only image that filled her frame of view. The longer she stared at the beautiful lines that made up the likeness of the woman she had loved, the easier her breathing became.

A few minutes later she laid the portrait on her chest. When she closed her eyes again, she no longer saw the damp walls of the cell; instead she saw Tara's smiling face. Her grip tightened on the frame as though she could somehow summon the woman herself through just the contact with her likeness. Willow knew that the Tara that was in the drawing was long gone, that the person who walked the earth was as much a vampire as anything else…and yet she knew deep down in her heart that she wanted to be with Tara no matter what she had become. Her earlier thought that she may still be in league with Dracula was dismissed as being nothing but unfounded suspicion. Tara's soul was in Tara's body…therefore the somber, dark-cloaked woman that haunted her steps, was Tara.

As she gripped the frame tightly in her fingers, the backing suddenly slipped away. Willow glanced down to see that her fierce grip had broken the frame. With a sigh she picked up the two pieces. As she did something white fluttered out from between them and came to rest on her stomach. She immediately clutched at it and drew herself into a sitting position. When she stared down into her hand she found paper which had been tightly folded into a small square.

With trembling fingers Willow quickly unfolded the paper. Her heart missed a few beats when she saw one side was covered in a neat, upright script. Even before she stared reading, Willow recognized the handwriting as belonging to her brother.

Willow stared at the small scrap of paper as though expecting the short message to change and reveal something that was actually useful. It was the only clue she had that even hinted at the whereabouts of the skull but the longer she stared at it, the more unhelpful the message became. Having her brother admit that everything he did was solely for her, including torturing Tara, did not improve her mood.

"You knew full well I would never have condoned what you did to her, demon or not," Willow whispered, her voice sounding lonely in the empty room, "I was ready to let her go, you should have been too…now look at the mess you've made…"

Although she felt like tearing the message into shreds out of sheer frustration, Willow instead folded it into a tight square and jammed it in her pocket. She gazed out at the world beyond her window and knew that somehow she had to escape Faith, who was no doubt watching her like a hawk, and make her way to the Museum to see Giles. If anyone could possibly shed light on her brother's cryptic message it would be the centuries-old warlock.

Rupert Giles felt every year of his age as he slipped into the worn armchair tucked into one corner of his workroom. Once his weary bones were settled he unfolded the scrap of paper that had been nestled in his clenched fist and recalled the scene just an hour ago when a confused but hopeful Willow had presented him with her discovery.

There was no need for him to confirm that the note was indeed written in the hand of Abraham Van Helsing, Willow knew her own brother's writing as well as he. He could however confirm truthfully that he had never seen such a note before…however he was somewhat ashamed to acknowledge that was where the truth stopped and the concealment began. The note gave him more than an inkling of where the skull could be and yet without confirmation, it was not something he could share with the young woman…not yet. He had sent Willow home again with a few firm reassurances that he would conduct further 'research' and divulge his findings as soon as possible. Willow had left with a worried but confident expression on her face that almost caused him to confess then and there, it took the old warlock an immense amount of effort to let her go. As soon as she disappeared out the door, he was racked by a guilty conscience.

When Myles had shown up some minutes later to see if there was anything he needed help with, Giles had immediately sent him to fetch Tara…the one living being who would have seen the skull's location.

Giles remained slumped in the arm chair with his chin resting on his fist. He did not move until several minutes later when he heard the door to his workshop open, followed by barely audible footsteps. He looked up and met Tara's piercing blue gaze.

The vampire looked strangely different until he realized that she was not wearing the black, woolen cloak that seemed to move as though it were a part of her. She stood before him wearing an unadorned black shirt with a high collar that nestled beneath her jaw, tucked neatly into a plain black woolen skirt that reached the floor. The lack of a cloak also left her white blonde hair bare, and she had tied it in a loose bun that sat at the nape of her neck. Despite her pallor and unnaturally bright eyes, she looked like a young widow.

Without speaking, he extended the note towards her. She crossed the distance between them and accepted it wordlessly. As she read it, her lips slowly parted in shock. When she lifted her head a few moments later her brow was furrowed with concern.

Giles nodded once, "Tucked into the back of a portrait she keeps at her bedside…"

"My portrait," Tara whispered in an odd voice. Although she spoke the truth plain enough, it seemed strange now to claim to be the carefree young girl in the drawing. She lowered her gaze and read the note through once more, as though thinking the words might have changed since she read it last. When she looked backed to Giles, her confusion had not lessened and her concern registered clearly in her voice as a slight tremor, "How much have you discussed with Willow?"

She thought she saw a flicker of discomfort pass across Giles's features. However when he paused overly long before replying, she realized he was indeed uncomfortable.

"I must confess that although my speculations ran wild upon reading the note, I have discussed nothing of any substance with Willow," Giles admitted, "I merely promised her that I would do my best to uncover the mystery through research…and speaking to several unnamed sources…which was stretching the truth to say the least. I have but one source and she is standing in front of me now."

Tara lifted her eyebrows in surprise for a moment but she quickly composed herself and waved the note at Giles, "Before we ascertain whether or not I can shed any light on the skull's whereabouts, did you not immediately have doubts as to the authenticity of this note?"

Giles bristled as though offended but stopped short of an indignant retort. "Of course I did," he noted quietly.

"Then you would have asked yourself whether Abraham truly wrote this note, I cannot vouch for his penmanship but I can say with certainty that he died not knowing we would bring his sister back from the dead!" Tara stated emphatically, the note now crumpled slightly in her fierce grip.

"That thought vexes me greatly," Giles agreed, drumming his fingers on the arms of his chair, "but my instincts tell me that Abraham Van Helsing wrote that note, whether he ever intended Willow to actually find it or not."

Tara's previously wide-eyed gaze was now narrowed with suspicion, indicating she was far from convinced. However she grudgingly allowed Giles his reasoning, "And you believe you know where it is?"

Giles rose smoothly to his feet and felt the need to smooth out the wrinkles in his waistcoat before replying. "The only conclusion that I can reach is that Abraham buried the skull with his sister…it makes perfect sense, she died for that skull, he would see her coffin as its rightful home…"

"It makes no sense!" Tara interrupted in a frustrated hiss, whirling away from Giles and slapping her palm down hard on a table in front of her, the contents of several specimen jars shook with the force of the impact. "Damn you to hell, Abraham Van Helsing!"

Giles barely paused before continuing in a decisive tone, "And yet…you and I know that there is nothing in Willow's coffin. There are no bones, nothing…and certainly not two skulls. It is why I did not initially give voice such a thought in front of Willow…it is not the sort of speculation that she does not need to hear in her state."

It was only when Giles finished that he noticed Tara to be swaying slightly on her feet, with her lips trembling noticeably. If it were possible, she was an even paler shade of pale than she had been a minute ago. Her entire body slumped against the workbench that lay in front of her.

"Tara?" he asked with a slight frown at her strange reaction. "Is something wrong?"

Tara's head jerked upwards before she replied, "Abraham would not have left the skull in the coffin…it is much too obvious…"

"It is too obvious," Giles began slowly, still concerned at Tara's reaction, "which is precisely why Abraham would have chosen it…and you know as well as I that the protections I placed on that grave were significant, they have been disturbed but once in the time they have been in force…and that was by you."

"Oh god," she whispered, pressing both hands to her temples as though she suddenly had a splitting headache.

"Tara?" Giles asked firmly, as though he were a father demanding answers from a wayward child. He crossed the short distance between them and took one of her wrists in an iron like grip to force her to remain aware of his presence.

Tara wrenched her wrist free but met his gaze, in a very quiet voice she admitted, "The skull may very well have been in her coffin."

"What the bloody hell does that mean, demon?" Giles demanded, reverting to his old way of addressing Tara from a time when the relationship between them had been less than amicable.

Although the tone of his voice unnerved her, Tara did not shrink away. She angrily threw the crumpled up note in his face.

"I said it plainly enough!" Tara snapped, clearly angry at herself as opposed to Giles. Just looking at him now, she remembered the spite in his voice as he ordered her to dig up Willow's bones. He knew full well that such an act would cause her immense pain…and he had been right. The thought of seeing Willow as nothing more than a decaying pile of flesh and bones wrapped in moldy, damp fabric would have broken her…had she actually looked inside the coffin.

Giles stared at her in silence for almost a minute before it dawned on him what she had done. His lips parted in horror and shock at the realization. "I remember exactly what you said that night…you spoke of her bones…and the suffering it caused you to have to see them…I remember because of the perverse satisfaction I took from your suffering."

Tara turned her back on Giles, and lowered her elbows to the workbench so she could hold her head in her hands.

"I lied," she whispered, her anger giving way to shame, "I barely opened the coffin…and certainly not far enough to see Willow's body. I used a spell to grind the bones to dust and funnel them into the jar. When I say that the skull may very well have been in her coffin I speak the plain truth…it may have been in there, and as such it would have been ground to dust along with her mortal bones."

"The skull cannot be destroyed…" Giles began in a desperate voice, although he realized his error before he finished the sentence.

"The bones were not destroyed!" Tara gave voice to Giles's thoughts, her shoulders sagged further, "Giles, if the skull was in her coffin…"

"We do not even know for sure that it was…" Giles retrieved the note from the dust covered floor, he unfolded it from its crumpled state and read it again, hoping fiercely that he would be able to find another way to interpret Abraham's words.

"If the skull was in her coffin!" Tara repeated stubbornly, her voice muffled as she continued to hold her head in her hands, now digging her fingertips into her flesh.

Giles looked up from the note. Instead of seeing Tara standing in front of him he saw Willow handing him the note, the clue she had found. She appeared to have every expectation that it would lead them to the skull…and he had promised her that it would help immensely. The skull was the one thing they needed…and for all this time it had been hidden in plain sight, right in front of him, Willow.

"Then it would be a part of her," he finished lamely, "The skull is a part of Willow."

There was a sudden crash behind them, from near the door to the workshop. Giles spun on his heels and Tara lifted her head just in time to see one of Giles's gadgets hit the floor and smash into a dozen pieces. They both saw a flash of red hair a split second before its owner disappeared out the door.

"Good lord," Giles exclaimed quietly as he ran his hands through his thinning hair. "How much do you think she overheard?"

"More than enough," Tara whispered, pressing a trembling hand to her forehead. She felt like vomiting.

Giles rose swiftly to his feet and crossed to his coat hanging by the door. However before he could tug it on, Tara reached out and grasped his elbow to stop him.

He gave her a long, steady look. His gaze spoke of caution and concern, "Tara…"

Tara was ready with an answer to his unspoken question, "I don't know if I'm ready to confront her, Giles…but I do know that I am more than ready to confess I never stopping loving her."

With that she drew a deep breath and followed Willow out of the door. Giles watched her go with a troubled countenance. He knew this latest revelation was more than capable of pushing Willow over the edge…and if she fell, she would take Tara down with her.

Willow landed hard on the cobbles as she leapt down the steps of the British Museum and out onto Great Russell Street. Several pedestrians had to urgently scramble out of her way as she ran straight through the middle of the crowded thoroughfare. She ignored the verbal protests and outraged expressions as she continued running, shouldering aside anyone who happened to be in her way. She was almost hit by a carriage crossing the street but she ignored the foul curses of the driver and his startled horses. The only thought in her mind was reaching Gordon Square and the safety of her own home.

As she ran, Willow cursed herself for having gone back to Giles's office. He'd told her to go home and that had been her intention until another thought had popped into her mind. Quite innocently, she'd decided to raise it with him before she left. She had been more than surprised to see Tara talking to Giles. However her surprise had quickly morphed into something else altogether when she saw the way Tara was slumped over a table, and the expression on Giles's face. Then their words had hit her, they had hit her like a ton of bricks and sent her reeling.

If the skull was in her coffin…then it would be a part of her…the skull is a part of Willow.

Willow's first instinct had been to lash out. She'd spied a mechanical gadget close at hand and violently dashed it to the ground before sprinting out of the office as fast as possible.

She continued sprinting, her legs continuing to pump long after exhaustion set in and her head began to throb painfully. Not until she bounded up the steps and slammed the door shut on her home did she slow…and even then she did not stop moving. Taking the stairs two at a time she made her way to her bedroom and slammed that door shut as well, as though the simple wooden barrier would be impassable to those who sought to find her.

Once inside Willow was at a loss as to what to do. She paced the floor towards the bed and back, running her hands through her stringy, unwashed hair. Willow wanted to scream out loud in frustration but she could not bring herself to vent her emotions in such a manner. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her own pacing form reflected in the silver framed mirror. As though suddenly gripped with an urgency of a different sort, she moved up close until her nose was almost pressed against the glass. She placed her hands to her face and prodded and probed the flesh stretched across her skull as though her explorations would reveal the innate evil that lay beneath her skin. Without thinking, Willow dug her nails fiercely into her skin and ignored the pain.

In front of her eyes, the reflected Willow took on a manic gleam in her green eyes. Her fingernails continued to delve into the skin of her face until slowly but surely she broke through the skin. Then clawing and tearing in a frenzy she stripped away the bloody flesh of her face until staring back at her was a grotesquely blackened skull. Willow heard a scream tear from her throat, it sounded hollow and miles away. She lifted a bloody fist to pound against the glass of the mirror. As soon as her fist struck the mirror's surface, her own reflection was back and the blood was gone from her hands.

A sob tore from her throat as she stumbled away from the mirror. However terrified she was, she could not look away from her reflection.

She was still staring at it a few minutes later when a shape moved in the room behind her. Willow held her breath as her own ashen face was joined by a second, even paler face just behind her shoulder. Recognition eventually brought with it a calming influence and the initial shock subsided. The chills remained however, as the air in the room itself suddenly felt cooler.

"If I turn around…will you be there?" Willow whispered to the reflection, she lifted a shaking hand and pressed her fingertips to the mirror as though touching the face.

"Because I do not know what I want," Willow found herself unable to raise her voice above a whisper. In the mirror, she saw the woman move a few steps closer and she shivered as she heard the ever so slight creaking of floorboards that accompanied the movement, "One half of me does not want you to be here…but the remaining half would be heartbroken if you were just another figment of my tortured mind."

The floorboards creaked once more and Tara's reflection drew even closer. Willow found herself taking an involuntary step backwards, further from the mirror and closer to Tara. In the mirror she saw Tara lift her hand, stretching it out towards her.

Willow almost leapt out of her skin as she felt the hand close on her shoulder. Before Tara's fingers could settle there, she sidestepped free of her touch and spun to face her. After all the times when the mirror had lied and given her a false reflection, it was an immense shock to realize that Tara was physically in the room, standing in front of her. On trembling legs Willow circled the vampire warily. She did not move further away from the vampire, but she did give herself a clear path to the door.

"What would you have me do, Willow?" Tara asked sadly as she saw Willow glance over her shoulder in order to confirm her escape route.

"You want me to leave…and yet you want me to stay?" Tara ducked her head with a sigh, "I cannot do both."

"Goddammit Tara, I want you to do both!" Willow was finally able to manage more than a whisper. She stamped her foot like a child, angry that Tara could not bring herself to continue looking her in the eye, "I want you to leave because I am terrified I will act out my dreams and kill you…and I want you to stay because I need you." Willow had to pause and swallow awkwardly, when she continued her voice was again reduced to a mere whisper, "I fear if we remain apart any longer then I will die."

Tara's shoulders slumped and for a split second she almost fell towards Willow. I cannot not fall apart, not now…not with so much at stake. It took an immense effort for her to reign in her emotions. After a moment she was able to lift her chin, when she finally did speak her voice was cold and to the point, "You cannot die from a broken heart, Willow."

Willow bristled; again angry, this time at the fact that Tara would seek to brusquely dismiss what she felt. She squared her own shoulders. "Do not spout those falsely placating sentiments in my presence!" she almost yelled as she stabbed a shaking finger in the vampire's direction. "You cannot deny that a broken heart drove each of us to our deaths!"

The air between them was heavy with emotion and beneath its weight Tara sagged. It was too much and her fragile composure wavered. She had to duck her head again as Willow's accusing gaze stung painfully, "You have a second chance at life, I am still dead."

When Willow moved forward without warning, Tara lifted her gaze in surprise. Willow crossed the already short distance between the two of them and firmly laid her hand on Tara's chest. She clearly felt Tara's heart thumping firmly beneath the palm of her hand.

Even though the fabric of her dress kept her skin separate from Willow's, Tara's entire body jolted at the sudden, intimate contact.

Willow's gaze was challenging and her question direct, "Do beating hearts reside in the chests of the dead, Tara?"

Tara opened her mouth to speak. Although it was her intention to offer Willow a decisive reply, all that emerged was a strangled gasp. A myriad of words invaded her mind, all seemingly valid responses to Willow's question and intended to leave her in no doubt as to what her former lover had become. Whatever the attributes of the curse Abraham Van Helsing had bestowed upon her – her soul, a beating heart which kept blood pumping through her veins – she was still a vampire. There was nothing she could do that would change her state of being. She knew she was condemned to spend the remainder of her existence as a mutilated creature, not fully human, not fully vampire…and accepted by neither.

However despite all of those well-reasoned thoughts, despite everything she had previously convinced herself, it was all rendered meaningless standing as close as she was to Willow, with Willow's hand resting on her chest. With the chaos in her mind threatening to tear her apart, Willow's presence was the only point of solidity she could cling to.

There was only one coherent though running through her mind, If I tried to kiss her, would she pull away in revulsion? Or would it be exactly as it used to be…, "Will…"

Before she could finish even finish Willow's name, Tara was unexpectedly cut off. In her surprise, it took her several seconds to realize what had happened. Gradually she began to digest the sensations that were coursing through her body, starting at her lips.

Tara froze, with Willow's lips pressed to her own she found herself incapable of moving either away or towards Willow. She stood awkwardly, adjusting to the warmth radiating throughout her body just from the one small, but significant point of contact between them.

Willow paused with the pretence of giving the blonde a moment to adjust to what she had just done when in fact she was trying to come to terms with it herself. She felt Tara's rigid body relax almost to the extreme point of falling over. Before she could do anything of the sort, Willow firmly wrapped both arms around Tara's body and eliminated the last of the space between them as she crushed their bodies together. Insistently she moved her lips against Tara's, small movements at first until the blonde's lips parted with a whimper.

What had began as the hesitant and awkward kiss of two people kissing for the first time, quickly became the passionate merging of lips of two lovers who knew each other intimately. All reservations were swept aside as Willow and Tara desperately strove to make up for decades of lost time with just one kiss. When their tongues met in a violent caress both women unleashed guttural moans of pent up longing.

Willow shifted one hand from the small of Tara's back to clasp her neck tightly as though she feared Tara would try and break away from the kiss. When Tara did exactly the same thing a moment later, Willow realized that they both wanted and needed the contact as much as the other. The roaring need in her mind had now reached a crescendo, she could hear nothing outside of their urgent gasps for breath and drawn out moans. When she felt the room spin around her she thought it was all in her mind, but when her back slammed against something hard she realized Tara had spun her around and forced her backwards. She felt a chill creep beneath the clothing at her back and knew that Tara had thrown her back against the mirror. A part of her was troubled by this, knowing that she and the mirror did not have the best relationship at times…but the larger part of her could not care less, she only wanted Tara's hands on her skin.

With their lips still locked together, Tara grasped the front of Willow's shirt and with one savage tug she tore it apart, sending buttons flying unheeded in all directions. She felt the maddening fabric of Willow's undershirt still barring her path to the creamy skin she desired and she had to break their kiss and put both hands to the wool in order to tear it apart. As soon as the fabric parted Tara sought out Willow's chest and she inhaled the intoxicating aroma of her skin greedily. She felt Willow pump her hips forward insistently and took her blatant desire as a cue to fumble for the buttons of her pants. Tara desperately sought out the heat between Willow's legs even as she was dimly aware of moisture between her own.

"I need…" Willow whispered breathlessly, trying to stifle another moan as she spoke, "I need your fingers inside me…"

Tara felt an icy chill run down her spine and she drew away immediately despite the moans of encouragement coming from Willow's throat. At that moment Tara had realized that everything about what was happening was a re-enactment of what had happened between the two of them in that dark alley so many decades ago.

"I don't care if you're lying…" Willow whispered, completely losing herself to Tara's knowing hands, "…but if you're going to turn me, can you please fuck me first?"

"I need…" Willow's sentence was cut short as she suddenly cried out with a throaty gasp, one of Tara's fingers worked its way between her folds and grazed the engorged nub within, "Oh gods…please, I need your fingers inside me…now!"

Her soulless self had taken Willow urgently, with the intention of securing her trust, only to betray her days later. Although it had effectively been someone else in that alley, she clearly remembered the things she had said and done. Her cheeks burned with shame.

Willow's eyes were open and she was staring at Tara in confusion. As Tara stared at her, with her clothing ripped open and her hair disheveled, she marveled at how beautiful the woman was. Things had changed, she was no longer that evil betrayer…and yet she could not bring herself to get over that memory.

With a grunt of frustration, Willow seized the front of Tara's shirt and drew her close again, claiming her lips in an effort to restart what Tara had interrupted.

"Willow…please," Tara whispered desperately after tearing her lips away from Willow's for a second time, "We have to…stop…before this gets out of hand."

"Why should I for heaven's sake?" Willow demanded fiercely, her breath falling hot, fast and moist on Tara's cheek, "Can you look me in the eye and tell me you don't want this as much as I do?" Willow placed a hand on Tara's cheek and roughly forced her to turn her head. She could not stop her knees trembling as Tara's face filled her entire vision, she exhaled shakily, "Tara?"

Tara tried to turn her head again but Willow held fast, her fingers digging in sharply with determination. She was forced to continue staring into the face of the woman she loved more than life itself. It was torture and yet she could not think of anything else she would rather spend the rest of her days staring at.

Tara swallowed awkwardly as her rapidly blinking eyelids fought a losing battle to stem the inevitable flow of tears that were about to fall. "With all my heart, yes," Tara finally replied to Willow's question, "I want this," she claimed Willow's lips for a brief moment…she had difficulty breaking away, "And I want you…but we can't do this, not now, not with so much at stake."

"Because I am going to die…again?" Willow asked bitterly, letting her arms fall to her sides.

Tara's expression instantly turned to one of shock mingled with horror. She reached up and cupped Willow's face in both hands, "Oh god, Willow, no…"

"Do not suddenly attempt to show your concern!" Willow cried as she jerked herself free of Tara's grip and stumbled backwards a few paces. She turned her back on the vampire and folded her arms stubbornly across her chest like a petulant child. "These past months you have done nothing but run and skulk in the shadows!"

That is what I have done for the past three decades, Tara thought with a sharp ache in her gut, I am done with running…and I will be damned if I am going to let you die again, regardless of wherever that bloody skull is. "I know I broke a promise to you just yesterday, Willow…I told you I would be there when you woke from your injury, but I ran into the night rather than face you in the morning," she admitted as she looked towards the window. "I am sorry for that…and I am sorry for having to leave you now."

Willow spun around in time to see Tara moving towards the window. "Will you always run from everything and everyone?" she demanded indignantly, extending her hand to try and halt the blonde.

Tara paused at the window, "It is not my intention to run…there is something I must do first."

When she turned and looked over her shoulder Willow saw tears glistening on her marble cheeks. She took a few steps forward and when Tara did not move away, she closed the gap between them until Tara was once again nestled in her arms with her tear streaked cheek pressed against her own.

Willow thought of the lonely cemetery in Hampshire and the grave with the marble headstone that bore her name. She shivered at the memory and the premonition of standing apart from her body, watching as she was lowered back into that grave.

"My grave," Willow stated simply, her voice muffled slightly as she spoke into Tara's skin.

"I know what you will find," Willow whispered, touching her own face, "It is odd, I have never felt it before and yet now that I know I can feel it crawling beneath my skin, in every bone…it is inside me."

She felt Tara draw back slightly and when she looked up she saw an all too knowing look in Tara's eyes. Willow transferred her hand from her own face to Tara's, tracing a line from her forehead, down past her eyes and over her cheeks. Tara understood exactly what it was like to have evil lurking beneath her skin. She was condemned to live with it every day.

"I know the skull must be destroyed," Willow finally gave voice to the thoughts she had tried to suppress in the brief time that had elapsed since she overheard Giles and Tara. "And I know that it is inside me," she glanced up at Tara with a smile on her face but no laughter in her eyes, "That has got to create a rather nasty conundrum for Giles."

Tara let out a shaky breath, she was most definitely not amused, "I hope to god you are wrong, Willow." She ducked her head; her declaration was far from convincing even to her own ears.

Willow lifted her chin defiantly, "Whether I am wrong or not, if I have to let you go then I'm coming with you."

Tara drew back and looked Willow in the eyes, she lifted her hand and laid it gently atop the bandage covering Willow's forehead. The simple movement said it all, Willow knew just how badly she had been wounded in her fight with Dracula and that she would be of very little use to Tara.

"They will be watching your grave, especially now that I am no longer one of them. I cannot risk…"

Willow cut Tara off by pressing a finger to her lips, "I know," was all she said, even though the Van Helsing part of her felt like protesting vehemently.

"Please believe me when I say that I want nothing more than to stay here with you, Willow," Tara whispered in a breathless voice as she repeatedly stroked Willow's face, "I want nothing more than for us to remain here and make love to one another…just being here with you, having tasted you again, it's torture wanting more and yet…"

"I know you have to do this…I heard you," Willow finished with a sigh, "Even though I myself cannot see the difficulty in choosing. When there is a choice between duty and being with you…I would choose you every time."

Willow closed her eyes and tightened her hold on Tara as though that would keep her from leaving. She knew with an aching heart that it would not be enough.

Tara ran a shaking hand through Willow's hair, even though she was still physically standing in Willow's arms, her mind was already somewhere altogether. Duty…was she doomed to be haunted forever by that word? Although Willow had not intended to re-open old wounds, Tara could not help but remember that it had been her own devotion to duty that had separated them in the first place. She sighed and deposited a gentle kiss on Willow's forehead.

A brief moment later Willow felt her arms go slack as Tara's body disappeared. When she opened her eyes once more all that remained of Tara's intoxicating presence was a faint trail of dark mist drifting through a slight gap in the window.

"I love you so much, Willow," the soft voice sounded as though it were being carried away on the wind.

Willow let her legs give way beneath her and she sank onto the cushions of her window seat. She pressed one hand to the cool glass of the window and the other to her still-warm lips, the memory of Tara's kiss still lingering there.

Night had long since descended and a definite chill had crept into the air, but neither of these things bothered the figure hunched in the shadows of a large oak. In fact, he preferred the night…and the chill he did not feel in the slightest.

Marcus folded his arms across his thin chest, bared by the open shirt he wore, and glanced out towards the seemingly inconsequential cemetery in the middle of nowhere. He felt like uttering a small grunt of disgust but it was pointless, it was exactly the same thing he had done every night for the past two months…and in that time nothing had changed. He did not mind the night or the cold, what he did mind was the boredom.

Watch the cemetery, he thought to himself, repeating the orders he had be given, She may visit…and she may not…and I would have wasted all this time staring at a graveyard. I can think of better ways to spend my immortality. Marcus turned his gaze away from the church…it irritated him if he stared at it too long. He then slumped back against the tree at his back with a sullen expression on his face. Still, he supposed he could hardly complain when he was so far down the hierarchy…his superiors would have no qualms destroying him and simply choosing another lackey to watch the cemetery.

Marcus had no way of knowing that at least one of the nights during his tenure in Hampshire would be interesting, just as he had no way of knowing that it would be his last.

There was almost no warning, just the distant hooting of a startled owl. Marcus glanced up only to see a dark shape swooping from the tree above. He barely had time to think about uttering a scream before a blade flashed in the darkness and severed his head. His watch was effectively ended.

With Dracula's lone guardian now mere particles drifting in the wind, Tara reluctantly turned her attention to the small garden of headstones nestled in the unkempt grass. As she walked forward, she could already see the particular one she sought. Tara paused just short of the headstone for it was the coffin that lay beneath it that she was there to examine. With her stomach crawling, Tara began to murmur the spell that would carve the earth from Willow's grave for the second time.

Rupert Giles barely had to wait a second after rapping his knuckles on the great black door of Gordon Square. His arm was still raised when it swung inwards to reveal the smiling face of young Myles Cavendish. Despite the continual threat of violence from the creatures of the night and the instability of his housemates, living at Gordon Square appeared to agree with the young man if his beaming smile was anything to go by. Giles did however frown with concern as Myles immediately opened the door wide to usher him inside.

"Security is a bit lax, Mr. Cavendish!" Giles commented sternly. "Especially in times such as these."

"I assure you it is not, Mr. Giles sir," Myles replied quickly, shifting slightly so that Giles could see the crossbow strapped to his back. "I had you in my sights from the moment you turned into Gordon Square!"

At that moment Faith emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray laden with bread and cheese, she snorted slightly as Myles swung the crossbow into his hands and aimed it at a point beyond Giles to show his skill, "You need fear ending up with a bolt in your forehead, Giles, not unless you were as wide as you are tall…we're still working on Myles's aim."

Myles looked slightly offended but he shrugged it off affably and re- shouldered his crossbow. He did take a special interest in the bread and cheese on Faith's tray as he followed her into the parlor. Giles hung his own coat on the rack by the door and joined them. The Van Helsing's taste in furnishings never failed to amuse him, even at a time when he could draw little amusement from other sources; he found the black and white contrasts decidedly odd and stark. They were definitely more a reflection of the middle- aged Abraham Van Helsing than either sibling in their impetuous youth.

Curled in one corner of a large black sofa was a rather pale and drawn Willow. Giles noted the manner in which Faith sat protectively at her side as she set the tray down in front of them both. Myles swooped immediately, seizing a sizeable wedge of cheese and a hunk of bread before returning to his post at the window with the crossbow balanced on his lap.

"How are you keeping?" Giles asked the redhead with an attempt at a warm smile on his face. The question sounded empty and formulaic to his ears.

"Aside from the fact I've recently learned I have a demonic skull lurking inside of me…I'm peachy," Willow replied, playing with a loose strand of wool on the robe she wore. She reluctantly accepted a soft piece of bread from Faith but did not make any attempt to eat it.

"I know it's there, Giles," Willow interrupted in a firm voice that would brook no nonsense.

Giles nodded uncomfortably and changed the subject slightly, "I understand Tara has gone to Hampshire?"

At the mention of the blonde vampire's name, Giles saw a slight flush creep across Willow's cheeks. Just as he raised his eyebrows in surprise, she turned her head. It was not a particularly effective tactic as he could still see the curve of one very pink cheek. Giles did not know quite what to make of this new realization, had they been in another situation at a less perilous time he supposed he might have been happy for the young woman. As it was, he worried that it would cause unnecessary difficulties throughout what was to come…despite the fact that it was hardly surprising. Even he had to admit that Willow and Tara belonged together; it was just that Willow had come to that realization at an unfortunate time. Giles helped himself to a wedge of cheese and took a seat on a black ottoman.

"She has gone to examine my coffin," Willow finally replied, her cheeks had lost some of their pink glow as she turned to face Giles.

"Ewww," Myles announced from his position at the window, "Will you not be all moldy and wormy?"

Myles's face quickly lost its mock grimace beneath the combined disapproving stares of Faith and Giles. Willow however smirked slightly, pleased to have the heavy air hanging in her parlor dissipated by a brief moment of levity.

"It's alright Myles…there's nothing in the coffin, at least not any bones anyway. Tara ground them to dust to create my new body and that's why we believe the skull is inside me," Willow commented, surprised at how easily the admission flowed from her lips.

Myles's grimace returned quickly, along with a hint of fascination, "Okay…that is decidedly worse than either mould or worms."

"I was just saying…" Myles turned his attention back to the window for a brief moment before his curiosity got the better of him and he turned back to Willow. "I mean, you have to destroy the skull…how is it going to come out?"

"That's the real question," Willow commented, turning away from Myles to stare directly at Giles who was sitting rather stiffly on his ottoman.

Myles turned around swiftly and pressed his face to the window with concentration enough to convince Faith he was done asking questions. In the wake of Myles's innocent curiosity the room was filled only with tense silence. It remained that way for several minutes until Willow sat up a little straighter, she then leant forward and replaced the uneaten hunk of bread Faith had given her earlier back on the tray.

"I think we should continue with our plans, we have the skull, we take it to Covasna and use Giles's destruction spell to undo its evil once and for all," Willow announced confidently, ignoring the look of horror that passed quickly over Faith's face.

"And I say there's no way in hell that we would keep to that plan!" Faith spluttered as she leapt to her feet, "It's a bloody suicide mission and I won't stand for it!"

"Faith…" Willow tried to interrupt her friend but her voice came out broken and soft.

If Faith had heard Willow at all, she ignored her and turned to Giles, continuing in an adamant, angry tone, "Tell her she's being bloody ridiculous and you'll refuse…"

"Faith!" This time Willow also rose to her feet, her gaze shining with a fierce determination. Faith paused mid sentence and acknowledged Willow with an angry glare. The redhead continued, "If I'm willing to risk it then that should be the end of it."

Obviously Willow's argument was less than convincing as Faith continued, "Giles please tell her she's not going to go through with her hair brained scheme! Tell her the spell will kill her!" she protested as she whirled back to face Giles.

"I'm sorry Faith but it's my decision…regardless of what Giles says," Willow nodded towards the warlock who had a nervous expression on his face as he was forced to face the two strong-willed women.

"Giles?" Faith repeated insistently as though the old warlock was her last hope for reason.

Giles shifted his posture uncomfortably, he was staring at Willow who was still looking stubbornly at the floor, "I honestly cannot say what effect the spell will have on Willow…it was designed to destroy the skull…"

"But not while it was inside someone!" Faith gasped in horror, flabbergasted that he was not instantly refuting Willow's decision.

Giles shrugged sadly, "No…but then again I am not about to refuse to perform the spell, I have seen what Dracula's army is capable of and I swore never to let it scour the earth again…if Willow is willing to risk the spell…" his voice trailed off as he was unable to finish.

Willow finally looked up and she nodded towards Giles in thanks. The warlock however did not look pleased that he had sided with her and he was unable to hold her gaze. He nibbled on his wedge of cheese with little enthusiasm. She turned her attention back to Faith who had by now turned a nasty shade of green.

"You do not have to accompany me, Faith," Willow announced quietly, "But I will be leaving to begin my journey to Covasna tomorrow night and your presence would greatly bolster my spirits."

Faith looked wounded for a moment before straightening her back and thrusting her chin forward defiantly, "I think you're being exceptionally foolish, more so …I normally would not condone any of your foolish actions and I certainly do not condone this one…but I would not be anywhere else other than at your side." As Willow smiled and nodded gratefully in response Faith marched forward and seized her elbow. "And now you are going back to bed, the least I can do is see you start out in good health…even if you're not in your right mind!"

With a last glance over her should towards Giles, Willow was lead out of the room by Faith. No doubt the brunette would try once more to try and talk Willow out of her plans…and Giles knew that she would fail. Once Willow had set her mind to something…she was unflappable in her resolve. He sighed again and crammed the remainder of his wedge of cheese into his mouth. He swallowed and it grated against his throat as though it were sand.

It was only then that Giles remembered that Myles had been in the room throughout the whole conversation. He turned to see that the young man was still at his post, still with his eyes fixed on a distant point outside. Giles could see his reflection however, and he clearly saw the gleam of tears in the young man's eyes. It was easy to dismiss the young man's concerns but he obviously had a great depth of feeling for Willow, he just could not express himself as vehemently as Faith.

"Myles, you can rest too…no doubt you will need all your strength for the journey to Covasna," Giles said quietly. The young man turned with a suddenly hopeful look in his eyes and Giles nodded to confirm that he had in fact just given him permission to make the journey to Covasna. "I'll take over the watch."

Myles beamed as he left the window and pressed the crossbow into Giles's waiting hands, "Thank you very much, Mr. Giles. You will not regret this I assure you!"

The smile disappeared from the young man's face to be replaced by a serious expression that made him seem older, "The last visit to Covasna was certainly no picnic…and I believe I acquitted myself admirably."

Before he left the room, Myles helped himself to the bulk of the bread and cheese remaining on the tray. With his departure Giles was left alone in the room, he set the crossbow aside as he possessed other, more effective, means of attack.

He suddenly wished he had not sent Myles away so quickly, the room was all too empty and he had the strange longing for company. Giles turned his attention to the two portraits hanging above the black fireplace; one of course was of Willow Van Helsing, and the other, Abraham. It saddened the old warlock to stare at Van Helsing as a young man with his smooth, strong jaw- line and vibrant thatch of red hair. His green eyes had not danced as merrily as they did in the painting in the years following Willow's death. Until he laid eyes on the painting, Giles had immense difficulty remembering Abraham as a young man. The memories he had were mostly of the bitter, twisted old man who had been unable to let go of his vengeance.

Two paintings, the faces of two siblings, tortured and forever changed by their connection to the underworld and its denizens. At that moment Giles swore that he would do everything in his power to see Willow safely through the coming days. He would find a way to safely destroy the skull, no matter the cost to himself. He folded himself onto one of the black sofas and found it decidedly comfortable despite its appearance.

Almost three hours passed, Giles found himself drifting in and out of a sort of sleep in which he dreamt mostly of the skull. Although he considered himself fully alert and aware of his surroundings, apparently that was not the case.

The warlock felt his heart almost leap out of his chest at the sudden interruption. Now wide awake he placed his hand on his chest before turning to see Tara standing in the shadows next to the window, once again wearing her cloak. She drew the hood back as she stepped forward into the gas light.

Giles thought that she appeared slightly disheveled, although considering this was Tara, disheveled merely meant that her clothing was rumpled and a few strands of her hair were out of place. He could tell that she was feeling the strain of having travelled a fair distance in a short amount of time, her shoulders sagged slightly and she chose to sit on the edge of one of the sofas. Despite her exhaustion, she remained sitting upright with a straight back as though she felt uncomfortable to be sitting at all.

"Gordon Square was being watched…as one would have expected," Tara announced quietly, she brushed the folds of her cloak and a great deal of dust fell to the floor. "It is being watched no longer."

"Five…but only one caused me any real difficulty," Tara shrugged before she continued, "Tomorrow night there will no doubt be more. If we are going to leave, then we must leave soon."

"Our suspicions have been confirmed?" Giles asked even though the question wasn't necessary. He turned back to stare at Willow's portrait, as though fixing the young woman squarely in his mind.

"Yes…I found nothing physically save an empty coffin and one of Dracula's lowliest bottom-feeders watching over the cemetery," Tara too stared at the portrait, a wistful expression passed over her serene features, as though she would rather prefer to be staring at the woman herself. After a moments silence between the two of them, she was prompted to continue revealing her findings as Giles turned to face her. "It was difficult to say the least…but I did manage to pick up a faint residue in the coffin itself, the residue of something so foul it made me sick to my stomach."

Tara cast her eyes to the roof, as though she could see through the ceiling and into the room where Willow no doubt lay sleeping, "And now it is here."

Giles studied Tara as she tilted her head upwards, he could not read her expression but he knew her discovery pained her greatly. It was a useless observation. Tara was in love with Willow, how could it not pain her? He gave her just a few moments out of respect for the emotions that were no doubt coursing through her mind before pressing on with their urgent business.

"The skull is an object of immense dark magic…do you think it odd that Willow has not felt any effects from its power?" Giles asked.

"She says she has not…and I would of course take her word for that. Why however, I cannot say," Tara shook her head. "It troubles me to no end…and also especially the fact that it took you so long to concoct the destruction spell in the first place. How much longer will it take you to write one that takes into account the location of the skull?"

Giles looked guilty and it took Tara just a moment to realize that the warlock had absolutely no intention of writing a new spell to take into account the fact that it was inside Willow. She shivered. "You mean to take her to…Covasna?" she could barely choke out the name of the place, "And perform the spell regardless? Giles how could you…"

"You know I would not take her anywhere or do anything to her without her consent," Giles said quickly. "Willow has made the decision to leave tomorrow night…and I have supported that decision."

"Willow," Tara whispered, her body finally sagging to the point where she slumped back in her seat. "What effect will the spell have on her, Giles?"

"I honestly do not know, Tara," Giles admitted, "But I will do my best to try and modify the spell within reason…however I am fearful that any slight change will render the spell impotent and ruin our past sacrifices…you must understand."

"I…understand," the simple words sounded as though they were forced out with great difficulty. Tara had to pause and draw a breath before continuing just as reluctantly. "She has already given her life once for the skull…I know she would do it again in an instant."

"And we will do everything in our power to ensure she survives this time around…" Giles's voice slowly faded, Tara had stopped paying attention to him. She had risen to her feet and was moving towards the door. He knew she intended to go to Willow. It was what he would do…had he ever felt so strongly about someone. A small sigh of reluctance escaped his lips; he paused with his mouth open for a few seconds as though thinking better of his words. "I realize you don't want to leave Willow at this time," Giles began quietly.

The words had no sooner left his mouth, than Tara's attention instantly refocused on Giles. She turned and interrupted in a curt tone, "You are right, I do not want to leave Willow."

Tara momentarily considered ignoring Giles's as yet unspoken request and making her way to Willow. They had so little time and she wanted more than anything to hold the small redhead in her arms as tightly as possible, for as long as possible…she hoped somehow that would be enough to stop time in its tracks.

Yet she knew that expression on Giles's face…and she also knew that he would not be asking if it was not urgent. She knew without him asking her anything that to refuse would mean risking everything…especially Willow's already endangered life.

"Tara, you know I cannot compel you to do anything…" Giles sensed that reluctance and appeared apologetic.

She was not impressed by his attempt at explanation and she turned on him with her arms folded stubbornly across her chest. "Do not play that card with me Giles," she reproached him sternly. "You know full well I have done everything you have ever asked of me…and more, though it has cost me dearly to do so."

Giles was momentarily taken aback before he bristled with a slight anger. "You speak as though you have had no free choice in your actions."

"Have I?" Tara began angrily. However she did not follow up her angry retort. She bit her lip to silence herself and waved her hand to cut Giles off before he could say anything further. "Now is not the time for arguing, just tell me what you want me to do?"

"Go to Hagley Park," Giles announce resolutely, his head nodding slightly as he did so.

Hagley Park. Just the name of the place was enough to bring a small, sad smile to Tara's lips…even at such a trying hour. She had spent her happiest days at the Van Helsing's country home, surrounding by green meadows and thick copses of birch and oak trees. Even now, so many years removed from that time in her life, she could summon almost every detail, every smell and sound. The day's bread baking in the kitchen, the clattering of hooves upon the cobbles as Abraham charged into the stable-yard upon his mount and most of all. Willow's laughter as she led her on a merry chase through the halls…and Willow's cries as she lay naked beneath or above her in any number of less than ladylike positions. The sad smile had disappeared by the time Tara was ready to speak. "I understand that you do not want our foes to gather the slightest inclination that we have the skull but to seek to mislead them into believing the skull is at Hagley Park…do you honestly think it would be foremost in Dracula's mind?"

"Without a doubt…he is well aware of the significance that Hagley Park held for Abraham and Willow," Giles replied firmly, "But if you would rather I sent Faith so you can remain here with Willow…"

"Giles stop," Tara interrupted. "I have already made my decision…if there is even the slightest possibility that such a ruse will keep Willow safer, then I will go." And Willow needs her best friend more than ever, I cannot ask Faith to place herself in such danger. As fearless and awesome as she was, Tara still considered Faith a mere mortal, with a mortal's insufficient strength.

Tara cut him short once again, "Giles, please do not lecture me…with Willow expecting me to return safely to her, I will use the utmost caution."

Tara paused just beyond the parlor; she crossed the short distance to the bottom of Gordon Square's main staircase. Tentatively she placed her hand on the banister as though she would ascend the stairs. However she did not. She knew full well that she could ascend and make her way down the hall to Willow's room where she would find the redhead peacefully asleep…or possibly wide awake and waiting for her.

"You will tell Willow…that I shall not be far behind?" Tara asked over her shoulder. "And…" She paused again, wanting to be able to tell Willow more. However she felt odd at the thought of having Giles relay her most personal sentiments and she shook her head softly, "Just tell her that, please."

Even after Giles's promise, Tara continued to pause until, with a slight sigh of frustration, she turned and made her way back out into the night air.

As desperately as she wanted to see Willow, she knew she would not be able to leave her side if she so much as gave her a single glance that evening. Tara understood the importance of the task Giles had given to her, it was imperative that the small group were able to leave London without being noticed. With any luck, Dracula's minions would follow her west to Hampshire. She did not for a moment consider the danger inherent in her task.

The Thames was shrouded in a murky mist, adding to the gloom of night. Very few ships would have dared to depart at such a godforsaken hour of the morning but in such conditions but one small vessel was currently being loaded. Nervous sailors carried bulky, strangely shaped luggage aboard and stowed it carefully, as though they expected awful retribution if they were to treat it carelessly. The ship's passengers, all wearing dark clothing and hats, were also nervous.

Willow tugged the simple worker's cap lower over her head, but it would not come down far enough to cover her ears, only the tips were protected from the brisk chill. She envied Giles's woolen sailor's cap as she spied him standing near the gangplank, authority in his voice as he directed the sailors. Willow lifted her hands to her face and blew on them lightly to warm them before putting them back into the pockets of the thick coat she wore, buttoned up to her chin. Myles was standing beside her, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, also wearing a coat and cap.

"Myles, for god's sake stop that, you're making me nervous," Willow snapped, thrusting her freezing hands into her pockets as she watched another bag of what she knew to be weapons carried aboard and stowed on deck.

"Sorry," Myles squeaked, he retrieved a stick of hard candy from his pocket. After brushing a few stray hairs off the sticky candy, he put it in his mouth. The resulting sucking and crunching noises were just as annoying as his fidgeting and Willow ordered him to board the ship and do his best to keep out of the path of the busy sailors.

She then turned her attention towards Faith who was overseeing the loading of their crates of firebombs. Willow looked at the number of crates such had brought with her and wondered just how many people or objects Faith was intending to firebomb. The brunette did not trust the sailors to carry the temperamental glass orbs and she obviously intended to carry them aboard herself.

All in all, their preparations moved swiftly, but not so swiftly that their haste would draw undue attention to their small party. Willow cocked her head slightly at the distant sound of a carriage crossing the cobbles. Her heart beat a little wilder when she realized it was not drawing away, but coming nearer. Sure enough, out of the gloom emerged a small covered carriage drawn by two dark mares. She breathed a sigh of relief that was shared by everyone else as she recognized a carriage belonging to the British museum.

The driver drew to a halt near Faith, who cradled her firebombs protectively as the horses pawed the ground, impatient to be in a warm stable and out of the night air. He leapt down from his seat to open the door, but his passenger pre-empted him as she opened her own door and stepped out onto the cobbles. It was none other than Lara Croft herself, wearing a long leather coat that covered her completely save her head and hands. One hand held tightly to her cane which she used to help herself down the carriage steps.

"Just when I was beginning to think you wouldn't come and see me off," Faith smiled broadly at her lover. She left her precious cargo to cross the distance between her and Lara and ignored the fact that she was in public as she swept the other woman into a firm embrace. They shared a brief kiss before Faith set her down once more.

"Who said anything about seeing you off," Lara replied quietly, lifting her eyebrows.

Faith's smile vanished quickly when Lara's driver moved around to the back of the carriage and smartly removed two small bags from the luggage compartment. An eager sailor immediately came forward to claim the bags with the intention of taking them aboard the ship.

He was intercepted by Faith who snatched both bags from the driver with an indignant expression on her face, "Where the hell do you think you're going?" she snapped at her lover, leaving the embarrassed sailor unsure as to whether or not he should take the bags.

"I'm tired of staying behind while the rest of you go flitting off to Europe, I've decided to join you," Lara replied quite calmly. She snatched one of her bag from a dumbfounded Faith and handed it to the sailor. She nodded that he should take the other one. Carefully, as though worried Faith would bite his hand off, he took the remaining bag from Faith's grasp. He then gratefully scurried away from the two women. Willow, Giles and Myles however were not as discreet as they looked on with interest as their friends faced each other.

"You've decided…you've decided?" Faith repeated loudly as Lara's words began to sink in. She glanced across at Giles who was giving her a stern glance and she lowered her voice to a quiet but intense hiss. "I don't care what you've decided…there is no way in hell you're coming with us! And for your information we are not 'flitting' off to Europe, we're on a mission to save the known world."

"It was a figure of speech," Lara shrugged, still apparently completely unperturbed by Faith's reaction to her intentions. "Who do you think is financing this 'mission' of yours? I mean to ensure firsthand that my money will be well spent."

"No, it is not," Lara admitted, cocking her head to one side as she smiled at her lover.

"You are coming because you stupidly believe that you can be of some use to us!" Faith cried in exasperation, resorting to blatantly cruel tactics to avoid seeing Lara join them. The small smile on Lara's face only made her feel as though she were being petulant and foolish when her intentions had far more serious consequences. "You cannot run let alone fight…god Lara, would you make me go into battle with my concern for your safety outweighing all other concerns?" Faith's voice caught slightly as she blinked back tears of frustration.

Lara seemed unconcerned at Faith's words, hurtful though they may have been. She reached out and tenderly stroked her lover's chin. "I was fighting demons while you still had your hair done in braids and dolls on your lap…and regardless of my infirmity I can still outshoot you. Faith, I love you dearly but it simply comes down to the fact that I am the Director of the British Museum and I have decided that I will be going on this mission."

With that obviously to be taken as the final word on the matter, Lara determinedly strode past Faith, only using her cane sparingly as she moved towards the gangplank.

Almost completely red in the face, Faith watched as Lara walked straight past her. She took a few steps in Lara's wake but stopped short of physically restraining her, "I do not care if you are the Director of the bloody British Museum, you can fire me for all I care…but I do care that you are my lover, and as your lover I beg you not to come!"

There was an awkward silence in the air following Faith's outburst, only broken by the sound of candy crunching in Myles's mouth. Lara did not look back as she boarded the ship and disappeared into the main cabin. Faith finally gave up staring after her lover in expectance of a reply and turned her attention back to her firebombs. When she eventually carried them aboard she did so with such careless abandon that all looked on in horror until they were safely stowed.

Willow felt a measure of Faith's pain but she also sympathized with Lara. She suspected that although the Director had every intention of assisting with their mission to the best of her considerable abilities, her agenda was simply being with Faith…no matter where in the world she was going. With a slight sigh, Willow glanced around at the almost empty dock. Now that most of their luggage was loaded, there was very little reason for her to remain standing on dry ground other than to keep watch for Tara. She reluctantly moved towards the small ship. Her footsteps sounded hollow as she trudged up the gangplank, all the while keeping a firm grip on the single strand of knotted rope that served as a thoroughly inadequate railing. Once on board she hardly felt safer as she felt the ship sway ever so slightly beneath her. With a shudder she remembered the disaster that had been her last Channel crossing. They were still moored on the Thames; Willow hated to think what it would be like once their small craft reached the Channel.

To take her mind off the imminent journey, Willow divided her time between watching the remainder of their luggage get tossed aboard by the crew and staring out into the early morning darkness. At any moment she expected a slender shape to emerge, with blonde hair framing a beautiful face…Tara promised she would return. Willow sighed as the last of the luggage was on deck, she knew that Tara had verbally promised no such thing and yet she had felt it go unspoken between them. The scraping of the gangplank as it was drawn onto the ship caused her to search out Giles. She did not have to look further than the other side of the deck, he was standing watching her.

Giles tugged his woolen sailors cap down over his ears and turned away slightly so Willow could not see the guilty look that passed across his face, "Wherever you are, Tara will never be far away."

Willow missed his expression as she leant over the gunwale and stared at the river ahead but she did manage a tight-lipped smile in response to Giles's uncharacteristically emotional answer. Her eyes were veiled as she stared into the murky darkness, "Well, she should bloody well be on the boat with the rest of us." She then lifted her gaze to the night sky where not a single star shone down on them. "I can't stand the thought of her being alone in the dark."

"Tara will be fine, she is a creature of the night after all," Giles reminded her quietly.

Willow tightened her grip on the railing in front of her. She held on under her fingers were white and numb with cold before finally thrusting them back into the pockets of her coat. The intense burning sensation as feeling returned reminded her that she was very much alive.

"That might have been true once," Willow finally replied to Giles, "But everything has changed now."

Giles waited for a moment as though expecting Willow to elaborate on her cryptic sentence. She did not however, and eventually he left her alone by the railing.

Willow remained watching the shore as the gangplank was slowly drawn up, the moorings thrown off and the ship slowly began to move out into the middle of the river. Tara never came.

Seated upon his throne, Dracula heard a rasping of hinges and he watched the great doors at the far end of his hall swing inwards, through the slight gap entered one lone figure. Dracula snorted immediately, he recognized the figure even though that end of the hall was shrouded in darkness. He knew that whip-thin body anywhere…it was William.

He had an inkling of what William had come to tell him before the fool even opened his mouth. Dracula tightened his grip on the arms of his throne, trying to prevent himself from rising to his feet and tearing the messenger a new mouth in his throat.

"I have disturbing news, my Lord," William murmured as he lowered himself to one knee in front of Dracula's throne. He went down grudgingly, as though it was not an action that came easily to him.

"All your news at present has been disturbing, William," Dracula commented in a bland tone, "You came to me not two hours hence and assured me the skull was at Hagley Park! I am expecting you to tell me that you have the skull in your possession!"

William swallowed awkwardly, "Maclay was sighted near the former Van Helsing home, that raised suspicions…but I have just gleaned from wharf rats that a small party matching the descriptions of our foes left the docks the day before yesterday," William announced in a slow voice, as though he was fearful of the reaction his news would provoke. "It would seem that somehow, they have found the skull."

"How do we know that is not a ruse and the skull is in actual fact with Maclay?" Dracula asked, his voice trembling with rage as he drummed his fingers on the arms of his thrones.

"She is alone…our sightings from the wharf match the descriptions of their entire party, including the old warlock," William replied in an impertinent tone, already rising to his feet instead of remaining on his knees in the presence of his Master. "They obviously have it…and have sought to leave for Covasna to destroy it without arousing our suspicions!"

Dracula laughed unexpectedly. It was a throaty demented sound. William frowned as he knelt before the throne, rightly wondering if his Master were losing control.

"All these years spent searching desperately for the skull…and in the end all we had to do was wait for the path to be revealed to us," he cackled.

"Little good it will do us if they destroy the skull," William commented bitterly, almost under his breath.

William glanced up, knowing full well that Dracula had overheard him. He would not however grovel; he kept his square chin thrust defiantly upwards and waited on the decision of his Master.

"Assemble the hordes…we ride now!" Dracula commanded immediately, his booming voice at odds with his relaxed posture upon his throne.

"Now my Lord?" William clarified nervously, his composure wavering somewhat beneath the fearsome gaze of Dracula, it was maniacal in its intensity.

As William turned his back to him and walked out of the great hall, Dracula had to suppress the urge to smite the vampire in one fell blow. He channeled his anger into a single clenched fist held before him and vowed that neither Willow Van Helsing, nor Tara Maclay, would leave the field of Covasna – either alive or undead.

He then turned to his left and saw, illuminated in the faint flickering of torchlight, his suit of armor. With a nostalgic smile he lifted himself from his throne and slowly made his way towards it. The closer he came, the more of its intricate detail he was able to pick out. It was a magnificent work of craftsmanship, black steel worked by master armorers who had been turned and pressed into service for him alone. He lifted his fingers towards it and ran them over the inlaid gold and silver designs which were traced out over the entire breastplate. They trailed outwards, over the shoulder guards and continuing to the gauntlets. The helmet was a fearsome creation, wrought into the likeness of the demon that was mounted above his throne.

Dracula remembered the last time he had worn it, riding at the head of his army. He smiled, he would wear it again…and again he would ride at the head of his horde of undead warriors, a great torrent that would sweep Europe clean of the unworthy…starting with the pathetic band of fools who sought to destroy the skull.

The Channel crossing had proven not to be quite as horrendous as Willow had feared but the following weeks of almost non-stop travel as they raced for Covasna had taken a toll on their small party. Even though she felt she should be used to riding following what she thought was a significant amount of experience, Willow still found herself sore at the end of each day's travel. She found herself longing for the relative comfort of the train that had carried them as far as Klausenburg. However after the city, there were no trains that could take them where they needed to go, deep into the mountains where even the locals would not dare to venture. There were also no hotels of even modest comfort that could provide them with a decent night's sleep, just the cold hard ground and the slim protection offered by canvas tents.

At the end of yet another day of travel, as darkness began to fall, an exhausted Willow tumbled into her tent. She was hungry and felt as though she was coated in enough travel grime to fill a large bathtub…however more than food or a bath, she desired sleep. The fact that there was no bath to be had made the choice even easier. She was disturbed a few minutes later by Faith's insistent voice. Even though Faith was merely concerned that she was hungry, Willow told her to go away in no uncertain terms.

Darkness had fallen completely when Willow awoke again. It took her a few minutes to realize that she had turned herself over in her sleep and managed to pull half a blanket over herself. Beyond the half open door of her tent she saw the dying embers of a fire and Giles's slumped shape as he was hunched over, scribbling madly on a piece of paper in the weak light.

Willow rolled over and tried to return to sleep. However as exhausted as she was she could not find the peace of mind that would allow slumber to claim her. She was not even sure she wanted to return to sleep; her dreams had been dark and troubled…just as they had been throughout the entire journey. With a sigh, she peeled back the blanket and extracted herself from the tent. The earth was cool beneath the thin socks on her feet and the chill of a slight wind reminded her that she ought to don her jacket. However she could not be bothered fetching it and instead crossed the clearing towards the fire, hoping the dying embers still radiated at least a little warmth. She could not see what Giles was working on, but whatever it was occupied him so intensely she was able to stand behind him for a good minute.

"Can't sleep?" he asked suddenly, just as she was about to announce her presence.

He turned with a small, warm smile on his face. At Willow's nod he set down the pencil and paper in his hand and rose to his feet stiffly. He stretched obviously weary bones and stifled a yawn. Surprisingly, Giles then held his arm out wide to beckon Willow into his embrace. After a moment's hesitation, Willow slipped crossed the short distance between them and gratefully sank against Giles's thin but solid frame. She felt his wiry arms loop around her back and draw her close; close enough for her to smell the cigar smoke and hint of whiskey that lingered on his clothing. Willow found a strength and solidity in that embrace that she sorely needed. Besides Abraham, Giles was the one masculine presence that she had been able to count on.

"I have never before thought to say as much," Giles said quietly, "But I do consider you as a daughter and love you as one."

"I love you too, Giles," Willow replied with no further hesitation on her part. She then drew back far enough to enable her to look him directly in the eyes. "Whatever you have to do tomorrow to be successful in destroying the skull, I want you to do it. I do not want any sentiment or emotion to cloud what must be done…understood?"

"Perfectly," Giles found his voice hoarse as he studied the determination in the young woman's eyes. He sighed wistfully. "I wish to god your brother had your strength…"

"He fell to pieces after he lost me…" Willow tried to apologize for him until she realized that she could not bring herself to make excuses for Abraham. There was nothing she could say that could erase what he did to Tara…and in turn, to her.

"And yet you lost everything…and here you are," Giles said what Willow could not.

"I would not be anywhere else," Willow stated emphatically. However after a moment's pause she frowned as though mulling over the logic of those words in her head, "Well, actually I would rather be somewhere…anywhere else, even the icy waste of the Arctic circle would be preferable to being so close to Covasna again but…" Willow paused again and drew a deep breath, "I hate the word 'duty'…for a very good reason, and yet this has always been mine, before I knew such evil things as vampires and demons existed in this world this was my task, my duty…and I'm going to see it carried out."

Willow sniffed quietly but she did not reply to his statement. There was absolutely nothing useful to say about the topic of self-sacrifice. She could only know in her heart that dying was the last thing she wanted to do…again. Yet for all the deepest desires of her heart, fate would do what it wished with her. She would be carried along in its currents and it was all she could do to see that whatever she did…she did to the best of her ability.

"I do believe that someone else would like a moment of your time," Giles interrupted her thoughts; she looked up to see him nod towards a spot over her shoulder.

Frowning, Willow slipped out of Giles's embrace and turned to the point he had indicated. Standing next to her tent she saw none other than Tara. The frown disappeared to be replaced by concern as she searched the blonde vampire for any trace of harm or fatigue. Beside the fact that there were the ever-present dark circles beneath her eyes, she appeared unscathed. Her concern then gave way to anger as she was forced to relive the anguish that the blonde's absence had caused her throughout their journey.

"You…" Willow began in a whisper but she had to stop and swallow to avoid having an awkward coughing fit, "You return from Hampshire only to go running off again…without even paying me the courtesy of one small word of acknowledgement. Now you just show up in the middle of nowhere with your aggravatingly calm expression and expect me to what? Fall into your arms?" Willow stopped and folded her arms stubbornly across her chest as if she had no intention of taking a single step towards the blonde.

Willow's resolve crumpled and she practically fell across the distance that separated them and into Tara's waiting arms. In a split second they had resumed the kiss that had been cut short a few days earlier. Neither woman noticed Giles quietly disappear into the shadows to give them some privacy.

"I…am…sorry!" Willow managed to gasp in the brief moments that Tara's lips were not on hers.

Tara drew back slightly, cupping Willow's pale face gently between her hands even as Willow tried to continued speaking. She shook her head slightly, "Now is not the not the time to say sorry, Will, I just want us to be together."

Tara found herself smiling at the expression on Willow's face; she pressed her lips to hers in a brief kiss, "Together, together…as we were always meant to be…as we will be." As we will be, Tara uttered the silent promise even as Willow grasped her about the waist and lead her urgently towards the tent, already tugging the at the ties of her cloak. The dark garment slid like water to the ground.

With no small amount of struggling with canvas and annoying ropes, they managed to fight their way into the tent. Willow fell backwards beneath Tara's weight. Only a few blankets and a canvas sheet softened her fall. She let out a ragged gasp as the wind was knocked out of her. As soon as she was able however she seized the back of Tara's neck and drew her down hard, their lips crashing together once more.

At some point during the kiss, Tara managed to undo the majority of the buttons on Willow's shirt and then drag her woolen vest up to expose her breasts. Although there was very little light in the tent, she could see the pale mounds of flesh rising and falling rapidly in time with Willow's urgent breaths. She pinned Willow's hands up behind her head and began ravaging her breasts with an insistent mouth. She had to fight to reign in her urges as she was struck by the frightening realization that her desire would prove to be unstoppable. She needed to have Willow and it went beyond her physical desire for the redhead to a need to assert her humanity. As her mouth explored Willow's breasts and one hand held Willow's hands above her head, she moved the other hand downwards. She pushed insistently beneath the band of Willow's pants and plunged downwards towards the heat at her center. A small cry from Willow brought her crashing back to earth.

"Willow…I-I?" Tara felt the redhead trembling violently beneath her and she sat up with a start, her head scraping the canvas of the tent above her as she tried to give Willow some space.

Willow couldn't find a voice to say the words with…it was as though she didn't have control over any part of herself any longer. Tears leaked unbidden from the corners of her eyes. Tara's thigh pressed firmly against her sex made her all too aware of the pleasure she could be experiencing…what she wanted to be feeling.

"Will?" Tara asked again, leaning down to stroked Willow's forehead, her voice hoarse with emotion.

"Please don't stop," it was a half-strangled cry torn from the back of Willow's throat.

"Please…" Willow whispered urgently with another groan of desire interrupting her words. "It has been so long…I would not have so many layers of clothing separating us, I want to feel your skin move against mine…please…"

Willow sat up so Tara could peel her shirt down over her shoulders; at the same time her hands went to the throat of Tara's dress. As she fumbled urgently with the small buttons she had to keep shifting so Tara could remove the shirt. The garment was finally drawn down over each of her wrists and tossed aside, Tara then quickly dragged her vest up over her head even as Willow's fingers struggled again with the buttons. Almost impatiently, Tara shifted her hands so she could undo them herself. Willow flopped onto her back, lifting her hips off the ground so she could slide her pants down; she removed them completely with a well-timed kick which also crashed against the side of the tent.

Although it was awkward and cramped in the small space, eventually all their clothing and underclothes found the ground…every single piece except for one of Willow's socks. She was about to peel it off with a deft tug when she finally allowed herself to stare directly at Tara in her full nakedness. She found herself sitting with one hand on the toe of her sock and her jaw dropping steadily with each passing moment. As she allowed herself to drink in every bit of Tara's marble skin, the sock was gradually forgotten.

"Oh my god," Willow mumbled, hardly able to manage the words as her gaze lingered over Tara's perfectly formed breasts, from the ample curves to perfectly pink nipples. "I know I've seen it all before but oh my god…you…are…just…so bloody perfect."

"Will," Tara whispered in a playfully gruff tone and silenced the redhead with a brief but intense kiss. "While you are exceptionally adorable I would appreciate you admiring my 'bloody perfection' at a later time…it has been a long time after all."

Tara smiled and moved forward, she kissed her then. It began as something soft, like silk…their tongues darting out tentatively as though they had never met before. However when Willow's hand moved up around to the back of Tara's neck, she drew her downwards insistently and the hesitation was once again gone. Their bodies melded together perfectly and Tara's thigh slid gently between Willow's legs as she caressed her shoulders and arms. Their lips grated together in movements that were coarse and yet soft. Their tongues danced in fierce competition, each trying to wrestle the other into submission. Even as they kissed, Willow kept thrusting upward with her hips, increasing the urgency with which she moved against Tara's thigh.

Tara's hand moved to Willow's breast, stroking it before breaking their kiss to move her head lower. Willow looked pleadingly at Tara until the blonde's mouth closed over the sensitive mound of flesh. She felt Tara's lips close over her nipple until she was sucking on it gently, rolling the tiny nub between her lips. She alternated between that and licking it with long, lazy strokes. Willow pressed her head back into the ground, letting the sensations wash over her as Tara worked her magic on her body. She listened with growing pleasure to the small sucking noises the blonde's mouth made, soon joined by her own soft moans. Tara switched breasts, giving each one the attention Willow craved.

While her mouth worked eagerly, Tara moved her hand down between their stomachs, over Willow's flat, hard belly and down to the top of the red curls that had been grinding against her thigh. She cupped Willow's entire mound and felt a small jolt run through her body, closely followed by another, much larger as she slipped one finger inside Willow's folds. It wasn't long before she found Willow's clit. She stroked it a few times it too budded beneath her touch.

Willow ran her hands through Tara's hair as she dipped and moved over her breasts. Incoherent moans that might have been words continued to issue from her throat. She felt a sudden warmth flow between her legs and her eyes squeezed shut tightly as she willed Tara to move even faster as long forgotten, almost unfamiliar and yet most welcome sensations took a hold of her body.

"I'm a virgin," Willow whispered in realization, her fingers absently tracing Tara's neck as she stared at an undetermined point above her.

"Will…" Tara whispered softly, she looked up and slowed her thrusting movements without stopping completely, "Look at me?" Willow forced herself to lift her head and look into Tara's blue eyes. Tara brought her free hand up from Willow's breast to cup the back of her neck tightly, keeping their eyes locked together. "I can't begin to understand how this feels for you…to remember being with me and yet never having physically experienced it…"

"I want to," Willow urged her fiercely, "Of course I want to…it's just…oh sorry, you're right, I should just bloody be quiet and let you do…oh…my…god!"

Willow was cut short as Tara slid two fingers up into her passage. She cried out slightly as she felt pain but it was replaced in an instant by the pleasant sensation of feeling Tara inside her. They were joined. Willow felt her eyes water from both the pain and pleasure but she didn't know why Tara's eyes were also watering. The pools of blue liquid were shining brightly, her mouth parted slightly as though in awe.

"Are you quite alright?" Willow asked quietly. She felt her flesh settle around Tara's fingers and marveled at just how right it felt.

"That is supposed to be my question," Tara breathed, she leaned in close and whispered, "I love you Will," just as she withdrew her fingers slowly before thrusting upward again, this time a little faster.

Tara's movement rendered Willow unable to repeat the three words that meant so much to her, and yet she conveyed them through the touch of her fingers and body. Willow moved her hips instinctively, grinding herself against the base of Tara's hand. Tara responded by moving against her even faster, thrusting her fingers in and out in a steady rhythm. Willow felt as though she desperately wanted to close her eyes and thrash her head back against the ground but she kept her eyes on Tara. Even as they glazed over and she could barely see a thing through the haze she continued to stare at her lover. Tara thrust deep again…and then once more before Willow felt her release nearing until she let out a sharp cry and her orgasm surged through her body. Waves of pleasure spread out from between her legs, to her gut…all the way down to her toes. Willow groaned, she definitely couldn't even find words anymore, not even Tara's name.

It felt nothing like her dreams…or even her experience in the mirror, it was real. As she came she kept her eyes on Tara's, in her haze she lost herself in the blue depths of those eyes. She saw a small smile cross Tara's lips as her body gradually stopped shaking.

Even as a sort of calm descended over her she did not allow herself to lie back down, instead she surged forward and found Tara's lips. She kept moving forward until she toppled Tara over backwards, effectively reversing their positions. In one deft move she wrapped her legs around the blonde's waist. She felt Tara's free hand wrap around her back and urge her to move. Willow complied until she was riding Tara's fingers, bringing herself to a second orgasm even so soon after the first.

Although she felt exhausted enough to collapse she could not stop. She released Tara from the grip of her legs and maneuvered her body until she was lying atop her. With Tara lying beneath her, she sought out her breasts. Her mouth closed over first one and then the other, feeling Tara's soft skin with her tongue. One hand snaked her way down Tara's body, feeling gently for the heat between her legs.

"I haven't touched you yet…and you're already wet," Willow whispered in awe as her fingers slid easily into Tara's moist folds.

"I did just spend the last ten minutes with your naked body beneath and above me…how could I not be?" Tara replied, arching her eyebrows.

Willow grinned wickedly as she reached out and roughly flicked Tara's clit only to be startled by the violent jolt that followed. Tara arched her back, grinding against Willow's hand as a shuddering moan escaped her lips.

"Will, inside…" Tara gasped impatiently, seizing the hand that teased her so cruelly and trying to guide Willow's fingers up into her soaking wet cunt. Willow gently pushed her aside and carried out Tara's wishes without assistance, thrusting upwards with her whole body behind the movement.

A few moments later Willow felt an incredible surge of emotion, as it was she who was fucking Tara, it was her fingers that were urging her to come. The tears that burned her eyes never fell but that did not render the moment any less emotional for her, she was finally able to be with the one she loved.

Tara felt her clawing fingers slip on Willow's sweat coated back so she embraced the bucking girl fully, wrapping her arms around her small but powerful body that was so intent on its one purpose. Willow's breathing was loud and hoarse in her ear and her own came in between moans that she was trying her utmost to stifle. As Willow's fingers dove deep into her cunt, her palm worked against her clit. She had been on the edge of orgasm from the first thrust and it was only through some amount of willpower that she kept herself from falling over the edge, a desire to prolong the experience of Willow moving within her after so many years apart.

She wanted the intimate contact to last and yet Willow's rapid movements were going to be her undoing. As she fucked her with her hand, Willow's mouth continued to move across every inch of her exposed upper body flesh, paying special attention to her already swollen nipples which she teased between her teeth and the fingers of her left hand. Tara gave up trying to restrain her release and thrust her hips insistently, both her hands moved to Willow's ass where her nails dug into the tender flesh. As Tara's breathing grew short and urgent, Willow met her gaze directly, managing to hold it even as she continued to intensify the pace of her movements. The connection in their gaze was intense, with Willow focused while Tara struggled to keep her senses from flying apart. As she came, she squeezed her thighs hard against Willow and dug in nails in sharply in a vain effort to keep from crying out. A strangled gasp was all that emerged as her flesh contracted around Willow's fingers but it conveyed far more than the loudest scream.

Tara closed her eyes, allowing the thudding in her ears to gradually die down and she became aware of the moist pool between her legs, Willow's fingers still nestled in her passage and the layer of dripping sweat that coated her body. It could have been minutes or hours later that she felt Willow gently remove her fingers and settle contentedly into the contours of her body.

The only sound in the tiny tent was the sound of their combined breathing, both hoarse and short. Tara lent down and deposited a tender kiss on Willow's forehead. Whatever was to happen on the morrow did not matter; she had just been reunited with Willow. Her hands continued to roam over Willow's body as though she could not get enough of the redhead's flesh. When she heard Willow's breathing slow to the point where it was almost normal, a wicked grin spread across her face. She rolled over atop Willow before swiftly moving down her body until her face was between Willow's legs; her mouth paused above her tender and moist sex.

Willow felt dreadfully wicked as she parted her legs for Tara to the point where her knees were pressed against the damp sides of the tent. She yelped suddenly at the darting touch of Tara's tongue against her overly engorged, already tortured clit. The second touch was a long, languid stroke that left her squirming and craving more. Tara was eager to oblige, lavishing attention on her clit in an exploratory, teasing manner as she remembered the precise spot and speed that really made Willow squirm.

Willow tried to prop herself up on her elbows as she discovered she loved the sight of Tara working between her legs but that lasted all of a minute before her head was thrown back against the ground behind her as she tossed about uncontrollably. Tara's tongue was driving her once again to the brink, easily threatening to push her right over the edge but with the skill to prolong release and take her beyond without falling off completely. Her hands clutched for something to grasp and she settled for fistfuls of Tara's hair. If she was hurting the blonde, it did not slow her down at all. If anything, her movements became more intense and focused.

Willow flung out her arms. Her fingertips trailed over the canvas of the tent, made moist by their combined urgent, rasping breaths. It was as though in that moisture that she could find each breath in physical form, each drawn out moan in which she said her lover's name.

"Tara…Tara!" Willow repeated without even realizing that she was speaking it aloud once more. "Tara…Tar…"

The last was muffled as Tara rose up from beneath her legs in the midst of her release. Tara's musky lips closed over her own, effectively silencing her. Willow realized Tara had shut her up before she could disturb the others in their party and she gratefully gave herself over to the kiss, directing all the energy that she would have otherwise released in words, into caressing them, tasting herself as she did so. Tara replaced her tongue with several of her fingers, once again thrusting up inside her and causing Willow's spasms to lengthen, adding more of her juices to the already damp blankets that lay beneath them. Her arms were still flung above her head and she seized a handful of woolen blanket in an attempt to anchor herself to something physical but eventually she let it go and gave herself over completely. The only anchor she needed was Tara and it was to Tara's body that she held fiercely. Her nails raked Tara's back and she felt them pierce the skin, no doubt drawing blood.

A low moan escaped the kiss as her hips involuntarily jerked upwards several times with finality before they settled back against the covers with the rest of her sweat soaked, damp body. The kiss became slower, almost lazier but lost none of its emotion as Tara continued to stroke her stomach and thighs with tender fingers.

"This is all I want to do for the rest of my life," Willow announced quietly. "Vampire slaying be damned!"

"I know what you mean," Tara agreed as she stroked a clump of Willow's hair away from her eyes. "Will, whatever happens tomorrow…I want you to know…"

Willow pressed the tip of her finger to Tara's lips, "You don't need to say anything…you can tell me once all of this is over."

She saw that unspoken words would not leave Tara…she could see the fear in her eyes. Willow knew that there volumes that could be said between them…perhaps the words even needed to be said, but she could not bring herself to say or hear them. Instead she pressed her cheek to Tara's, in the silence that followed she was all too aware of her still throbbing cunt and the spread of wetness that chaffed against the back of her thighs. She was surprised to find that she did not feel cold…and more importantly, she did not feel spent. As Tara shifted slightly so she was no longer lying directly atop her, she seized her opportunity to reverse their positions again, flipping Tara over onto her back in one quick movement that almost brought the tent down around them as she pushed Tara against the sides. Willow drew Tara back towards the blankets and used her tongue to trace a through the trail of sweat that ran between her breasts, continuing downwards until her chin brushed against the soft hair that covered Tara's mound. Her mouth was watering before she spread her folds apart and drank deeply of the moisture that lay within. She felt Tara's hands tangle in her hair and press her down insistently in encouragement.

What would happen on the morrow was banished from Willow's thoughts…there was no point in thinking this through or stopping to question what they were doing. In the midst intense passion of their continued lovemaking, her contact with Tara and their combined rhythm was all that existed in the world. Willow found comfort in the knowledge that tomorrow would not come until they were finished.

The next morning dawned surprisingly clear and still. However, although bright, the winter sun failed to do much to warm the earth below. Faith and Myles hunched close to the fire as they prepared a simple porridge for breakfast. Lara was sitting just inside the tent she had shared with Faith, repeatedly stroking a whetstone along the length of a silver saber. Myles searched the small clearing for Giles but he could see nothing of the old man, his tent was already down and packed. He then turned and looked over his shoulder towards Willow's tent but there was no movement whatsoever behind the firmly closed canvas flaps.

"It's porridge," Faith replied in an acerbic tone that spoke more to her mood than Myles's innocent comment. "Even my porridge isn't that good."

Myles rose to his feet, "Well I might wake her all the same, it would be a shame if she had to eat it cold."

"Myles," Faith growled in a cautionary tone as the young man started towards the still silent tent. "I believe it would be best for you not to look in Willow's tent."

Myles stopped in his tracks and spun with a confused expression on his face, "Why ever not?"

"Because I've already looked in there," Faith admitted with a slight smirk, "And although it is a pretty sight…I do not believe it is appropriate for your prying eyes. Just let them be for a short while longer."

"Them?" Myles appeared even more confused for a moment before realization finally dawned, "Ohhhhh!"

The young man's cheeks were aflame as he returned to his spot by the fire. He all too gratefully accepted the bowl of porridge that Faith handed him and set about eating it as though it was the most necessary thing for him to do at that precise moment.

Dracula sneered at the infernal sunlight which bathed the mountains where the battlefield of Covasna lay. By his reckoning the Van Helsing woman's party which would the plateau by afternoon…full hours ahead of the time he and his vampires could possibly reach the battlefield. Although they had ridden hard by night and shadow, he had been unable to overtake them en route. It now came down to this day…and whether the fools would be able to destroy the skull before he could reach them. He regretted that it had come to such, but he could see no way of overcoming the inherent weakness of his kind. If they did manage to destroy the skull his only small consolation would lie in killing them all anyway…but it was small consolation indeed. Still, even the thought of killing Maclay was enough to bring a small smile to his face.

Dracula spun in his saddle and his smile broadened as he saw the host of vampires assembled at his back nestled within a cave that kept them all from the sun's deathly rays. Although there were mere dozens as opposed to the thousands which made up his army, it was a formidable sight and he was confident that their numbers would hold sway, despite the witch and warlock that guarded the skull. The other pathetic mortals he discounted altogether…save Willow Van Helsing. She was a mildly formidable foe…although he would kill her just the same. He glanced across to his right and saw William's surly face staring back at him.

His smile disappeared as he recognized the challenging expression on the other vampire's face, "It would be best if you did not speak, William."

A sharp grunt was all that issued forth from the insubordinate vampire but his eyes spoke volumes of the failure that was expected. Dracula lifted his chin and ignored William as he settled back in his saddle to watch the shadows move across the ground, biding his time until the sun disappeared and his time came.

"I cannot express in words how much I hate this place," Willow muttered almost under her breath. Despite her quiet words, the thin air up on the plateau carried her words to each of the five companions standing with her. None protested at her gloomy attitude or her lack of enthusiasm as they could all hazard a guess that standing once again on the battlefield where she died would pain her greatly. They could not fathom the extent of her pain, but they understood that it was there and were determined to support her as best they could.

She wore Willow Van Helsing's black armor atop her hunting clothes; after all, it was just as much her own now. She carried no weapons other than her silver cavalry saber which was sheathed at her side. Her red hair was unbound and it fell down to her shoulders. Although her words had already made her feelings clear, her green eyes were veiled as they stared out over the plateau and surveyed the field of dead warriors.

Tara stood directly beside her, so close to that their shoulders were almost touching. The vampire was dressed as she ever was in her simple dark skirt, shirt, and her cloak. The hood was pushed back, off her head and settled about her shoulders, covered partially by her hair unbound and flowing around her expressionless face. She carried a simple sword in her hand and wore no scabbard to carry it. Her only response to Willow's muttered statement was to reach out and caress her arm lightly. Enough words had already passed between them.

Giles too wore his everyday clothes, a simple, very travel worn grey suit. He had made one concession for his own protection; he wore a breastplate over his jacket. At his waist he wore a silver sword. Even now, on the cusp of battle, he was frantically scrubbing at his glasses as though they had to be spotless for what was to come.

Faith was resplendently deadly in her scarlet red leather with her hair tightly bound at the nape of her neck. She carried a vast array of weapons about her person. There was a bandolier of firebombs across her chest, several stakes tucked into her belt, a crossbow strapped to her back and a sword at her waist. Faith checked each weapon in turn as though worried she had forgotten something. She continued to twitch nervously until Lara reached out and laid a reassuring hand on her wrist.

Lara had foregone her usual attire of skirts for a white shirt and a pair of leather pants. She wore a leather jacket over a well used breastplate. Her long hair was done in a single, tight braid which fell down her back. She carried a cross bow cradled in her arms, fully loaded and ready to fire at a second's notice. There was a quiver full of bolts on her back and a sword hanging at her waist. Her walking stick was nowhere in sight.

Only Myles had a slight smile on his face, as though he could not believe his luck in being able to stand on the battlefield, at this time, in the company of warlocks and warriors. He tossed his head, shaking his wayward mop of hair out of his eyes and checked his weapons as Faith had taught him. No doubt Faith had dictated what he would wear; he wore a sturdy, almost brand new breastplate with light, supple leather armor covering his arms and thighs. At his waist was strapped a sword and a bandolier of firebombs were strung across his chest. He also carried a fully loaded revolving crossbow capable of firing five bolts before it had to be reloaded. His nervousness was only evident in the piece of hard candy he sucked, the squelching noises carrying far enough to annoy the entire party…but no one begrudged him the small pleasure.

"Well, for a start we need to find Willow's better half," Giles announced brightly in an effort to muster a little levity to what was a very serious situation. "I do believe he's lying by the dead tree in the center of the field."

Even as Willow shaded her eyes against the sun and peered into the distance to spot the tree, she heard Faith laugh lightly. She turned with a start and Myles snickered openly. He even went so far as to risk a surreptitious glance in her direction that made it clear that he and Faith were laughing at something other than Giles's poor attempt at a joke.

"What?" Willow snapped as she saw several suspicious glances cast her way. Despite the fact that she was clearly trying to feign innocence, her suddenly bright red cheeks indicated that she at least felt guilty about something.

"Myles is just a little surprised that you can walk today," Faith commented brazenly as the six of them began walking into the center of the battlefield.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Willow snapped in reply, her cheeks flaming even redder still.

Faith stepped out of line to move next to Willow, having to leap over several bodies in her path as she did so. She threw an arm around Willow's neck and squeezed her tightly, almost knocking her to the ground, "We're just happy for you Will…it was about time you lost your virginity, you were so tightly strung you were about to burst."

"Excuse me!" Willow spluttered, she dragged herself out of Faith's embrace and quickened her pace. However the move was less than smooth as her toe caught on a battle axe protruding from the ground. She stumbled and would have fallen had Faith not caught her by the collar of her shirt. "Bloody hell," Willow continued as she straightened herself, "I certainly do not need enemies when I have a friend like you." However there was a small smile on her face as she said the words, and when she cast a quick glance towards Tara her smile broadened even further. Her cheeks flamed once again at the memory of their shared passion.

"We love you, Will…and the woman you've chosen to be yours," Faith said, she too turned to look in Tara's direction and gave the blonde a brief nod which was returned with an air of gratitude.

The jovial mood dissipated somewhat as the six of them neared the dead tree at the center of the battlefield. By the time they drew up alongside it, they were once again silent. As she stared at the tree, Willow thought how eerie it was that it had taken on the appearance of the dead warriors who lay clustered around it. Its trunk was pitted and rotten and its few remaining branches looked as though they would fall to the earth at any moment. The bark was peeling off in great strips. The tree had been slowly poisoned by the evil that seeped into the soil from which it had grown. She stared at it a while longer if only to avoid staring at the particular skeleton that had drawn the attention of the rest of her party.

With a sigh, Willow finally moved towards the dark shape lying on the ground. For some reason, the others stepped out of her path until it was she who was left standing in front of Dracula's captain. The fallen body was not like the others on the plateau, where they were little more than twisted heaps of bone and rusted armor; the captain appeared to have been untouched by weather. The black armor he wore shone as if it had been polished the day before. Only his flesh was gone…and his entire head. Willow shivered as she stared at the headless corpse…knowing that a part of it was inside her own body. She steeled herself as though expecting the skull to awaken in some manner now that it was so near its body…but she felt nothing.

"Giles…can we please begin?" Willow asked in a small voice. She had to fight hard to keep her tone from trembling, especially now when she wanted to appear calm and unnerved by what was about to happen for her own sake as well as that of her friends…and Tara.

She turned to face Giles and saw him nod almost imperceptibly. Willow then looked at each of her friends in turn. Faith appeared unconcerned but Willow could see the way her hand gripped the hilt of her sword so tightly the flesh had turned white. Close at her side, Lara stood with her weight on her good leg. There was a hint of hidden pain on her face but Willow knew she would not ask for help from anyone. The smile was gone from Myles's face, replaced by an openly worried expression – he was not afraid to lay his feelings bare before his companions. His body twitched as though he was about to move forward to grasp her hand…or possibly even embrace her but he remained rooted to the spot. Willow understood. They all knew that the embraces should be saved for later…when it was all over.

Finally, she turned to Tara and found her lover practically standing toe to toe with her. Neither gave any thought to onlookers when they fell into an immediate embrace. Willow searched out and found Tara's lips and the two shared a brief but intense kiss. Their breath mingled as though through it they could share their strength and hope for the morrow. When the kiss ended, Willow was not ready to let go and she clung to Tara longer than was necessary.

However, even Tara's embrace could not shelter Willow from the sudden chill that descended over the plateau. She felt the darkness descend before she saw it. She drew back and glanced worriedly at Tara who was staring skyward, watching the weather change. Dark, almost lack storm clouds were rolling in, low to the horizon. Gradually the sun's rays disappeared from the plateau altogether.

When Tara lowered her chin Willow could see that her usually bright sapphire gaze was now a stormy, fathomless grey that mirrored the weather, "Tara?" she asked even though any question was redundant.

"I am afraid we have run out of time," Tara answered as the storm clouds completely obscured the sun and threw them all into semi-darkness even though it was still early afternoon.

"Son of a bitch!" Faith snapped in frustration, concisely summing up everyone's thoughts at the unfortunate change in the weather.

"Giles…for god's sake get started!" Willow ordered as she drew away from Tara altogether…but not before giving the blonde's hand one last squeeze.

Willow found herself unable to draw her eyes away from Tara even as she and the others moved to form a rather pathetic battle line of four facing in the direction of the path leading up to Covasna. Finally, with one last tight smile she wrenched her gaze away from her lover and stared down at the far less pleasant sight of the Captain's skeleton. She then glanced up towards Giles who had taken up position by his booted feet and he nodded tightly as he readied himself to begin.

Meanwhile Faith glanced to either side to see herself standing in a line with Tara, Myles and Lara. As she heard Giles's voice begin to speak in soft tones behind her, she felt tense and cold. The four of them passed the time in silent anticipation, checking over their weapons yet again, loading crossbows and tightening straps and bootlaces.

The time passed all too quickly. It almost seemed as though one moment their small group was alone on the plateau and the next, there were hundreds of dark shapes advancing towards them. Of course it did not happen in quite that fashion. The path leading to Covasna was narrow and the vampires were forced to ascend to the plateau in a thin trickle. However their numbers steadily increased and spread out like a disease at the edges of Covasna until it became clear that Dracula had been able to assemble a formidable host indeed in a short time.

He drew unimpressed looks from his companions for his unnecessary comment. They could all count, and they all knew that the odds were at least ten to one…suicidal odds. As the vast host of screaming vampires surged towards them, Faith, Lara and Myles tensed with their weapons poised. Myles and Lara with crossbows loaded and Faith with a lit firebomb in each hand. Suddenly the wave of vampires were halted in their tracks and left straining against some sort of invisible barrier that kept them from reaching their prey.

Faith quickly realized that the fuses on her firebombs were about to burn down and she tossed both aside before they could explode in her hands. "Great!" she muttered at the waste. She then turned to see that Tara was the source of the mysterious shield. The blonde vampire had her arm outstretched, palm towards the host of vampires as she whispered incomprehensible words. The strain of the task was already evident on her face with her eyes narrowed in pain and concentration. "I don't suppose you can keep that up until Giles is done de-skulling Will?" she asked hopefully.

It took some effort for Tara to shake her head and reply, "I will not be able to hold them back for long…minutes…at the most…"

Faith nodded, wishing there was some way she could support Tara but she knew full well she would need all her strength for the battle that was to come. She looked towards the straining, snarling vampires and narrowed her eyes as she saw a tall figure walk to the front. Although she had never had the privilege of meeting him previously, Faith knew it to be none other than Dracula. She scoffed derisively; he wore the sort of armor better suited to the parade ground than the battlefield. His haughty expression indicated that he expected Tara to fade quickly. She turned back to Tara, the blonde's eyes were now closed and all color had drained from her lips. Faith crossed to her side and seized the hand that Tara did not have stretched towards their foe.

Faith remembered all too well the horrible filth that had flooded her body when Tara used her to heel Willow at Covasna all those months ago but she brushed those thoughts aside, "I insist!"

Tara nodded slightly and Faith felt an immediate drain on her strength. Coupled with what was going out of her body, she felt a darkness with the intangible essence of tar pass from Tara's body to her own, radiating out through her body, into her limbs and head. Her body began to sag from exhaustion and after what felt like only a few seconds Tara released her hand. Faith opened her eyes and found herself kneeling on the ground taking in great gasps of air. She glanced up at Tara to find the strain on her face less evident. However she felt so weak she had to have Lara help her back to her feet, she sagged against her lover as she tried to stand on weak legs.

"That was brave…but exceptionally foolish," Lara growled. 'When they come at us, what are you going to do, spit at them?"

"I'll be fine," Faith replied grumpily, jerking her arm free of Lara's grip, "Besides, I would much rather have them over there for as long as possible…especially with the spell in progress." Faith turned to check on Willow and Giles and what she saw caused her mouth to open in shock. "Bloody hell…is that supposed to be happening?"

With Giles continuing to mutter his spell with his eyes tightly shut, Willow knelt at the side of the skeleton. Both her hands were frozen to the chest of the corpse and crawling slowly up her arms was an inky blackness. She was bowed over with her head lowered to the ground so Faith could not see whether she was in pain. As the darkness passed up over her hands and lower arms it left behind it something like armor covering Willow's akin. Where her hands had once been bare, they were now covered to the elbow with elaborate, gauntlets of black steel. The same happened as the substance passed up over her arms and chest, radiating outwards as it created a perfectly molded breastplate completely different to the one Willow had already been wearing. All this occurred in just a few seconds.

Faith realized what was happening, at the same time as Willow changed, the skeleton she held disappeared…it was being absorbed into her body. The armor that now covered half of her body was that of Dracula's captain.

Suddenly Willow's head snapped back to reveal a pained expression on her twisted features. Her mouth was open as though she was trying to cry out. Eventually a low moan tore from her throat before it became a loud scream that morphed into a name, "Tara!"

As soon as she heard Willow cry her name Tara lost all semblance of control over the spell in her mind and on her lips. The shield holding the vampires at bay wavered for an instant before disappearing entirely with a brief flash.

As Tara turned her attention to Willow, Faith, Myles and Lara gasped collectively as dozens of vampires were released and began streaming towards them. Faith immediately lit two firebombs while Lara and Myles lifted their crossbows and aimed.

Willow's entire body felt cold beneath the strange, black armor that now encased her entire body. With the pain slowly diminishing she looked up to find Giles kneeling in front of her. The warlock looked as though he was about to fall over but for some strange reason she did not feel compelled to call to him and see if he was okay. Oddly calm, she stood and surveyed the battlefield in which she stood. Tara was running towards her with a terrified expression that was at odds with her usually stoic countenance but she couldn't muster the emotion to care about her either. Instead she stared down at her body and clenched her armored first, even in just that simple movement she felt powerful. She reached for the sword strapped to her waist and drew it with a steely hiss. With merely a glance, she strode past Tara and the rest of her friends, straight towards the oncoming vampire army. As they came closer she felt the corners of her lips tug upwards in a broad grin of anticipation.

There was a resounding crash as Willow slammed into the first wave of vampires, rendering several headless with one stroke of her sword. She continued to cut a wide swath through the oncoming vampires, in less than a minute, at least a dozen had fallen before her blade. Just as her blood was boiling with the rage of combat, Willow suddenly found herself without a single foe standing in front of her; rather, the vampires had created a ring around her. None would step closer even as she taunted them with swings of her sword. However, a few moments later the circle parted slightly to admit a single combatant to enter. Willow once again found her smile as she saw it was none other than Dracula himself.

"I believe you left our last duel a little prematurely," Dracula announced, trying to circle her slowly.

Willow refused to face him as he walked around her, she kept staring straight ahead with a mocking grin on her face, "This duel will end a little differently I promise you."

Willow laughed lightly as she finally turned to face him as she uttered her revelation, "Why don't you come and take it!" She spread her arms out wide as though offering herself, "It's standing right in front of you!"

Dracula's face fell slightly before he was able to regain his composure and refit his mask of marble calm, "That's impossible…" he whispered.

Willow lifted her sword, pointing it directly at him, "If it's impossible then leave now! Be gone! You and your horde of filth and scum!"

With that she sprang forward with a guttural yell, Dracula barely had time to lift his sword in defense before she was on him. Their blades met and stuck fast with both straining to press forward, eyes locked in a brutal stare.

Across the battlefield, Willow's companions were still fighting for their lives. Lara stood, reloading and firing her crossbow as fast as possible. In a broad circle around her she had created a miniature dust cloud from the vampires she had destroyed. Faith and Myles had unleashed a deadly hail of firebombs, setting several vampires alight almost immediately. A side effect had been the creation of a wall of fire directly in front of them that the vampires could not cross. They were forced to go around, effectively splitting their force in half. With her supply of firebombs exhausted, Faith drew a stake in each hand and engaged the vampires in hand to hand combat. The first several went down quickly as she cut through their attacks with superior speed and skill. However, in the midst of the chaos she came face to face with an incredibly pale vampire, grinning at her from beneath his thatch of pointy blonde hair. He had a thin sword in one hand and a long knife in the other. Faith paused indecisively as she weighed up her options, trying to assess what she was up against before she made her attack. She tossed both stakes aside and drew her sword in a quick motion.

"Hello there, sweet thing," he drawled, twirling his knife on the tips of his fingers. "Name's William the Bloody…and you would be?"

She darted forward, having decided that he also would possess a certain speed in the way he fought. His first move proved her correct as he stepped nimbly aside and brushed her blade off with his own. Faith was forced to step backwards as he followed up with a thrust with his knife. The point of the blade scraped against her red leather corset before she moved out of range. She tried to take advantage of his off-balanced pose but he recovered too quickly, stepping away from her back-handed swing. They traded several more blows before Faith felt her earlier exhaustion begin to set in once more. She knew with a certainty that she did not tire so easily and yet the drain on her strength reserves had left her dangerously weak. Faith could only hope that it did not show in her movements or on her face. However it was too late, somehow he knew she was tired. Whether it was the tightness of her jaw or her increasingly slow sword play, he knew. A series of almost perfect strokes drove her to her knees and she was forced to suffer the indignity of having her sword dashed from her grip. He placed the heel of his boot on her chest and thrust, shoving her backwards. Faith hit the ground with a dull thud and found herself unable to move.

"Bye, bye poppet," William said with immense satisfaction, lifting the sword in preparation to plunge it into Faith's chest.

Faith met his cruel, gloating gaze with a brave refusal to utter a single plea for mercy. It would be an honorable death on the battlefield…although she did have to suppress an iota of regret that it was such a foul, unworthy vampire who had finally bested her. She was prepared for the end when a surprised look suddenly passed across the face of the vampire standing above her. There was a pause as he simply stared at Faith without bringing his sword down. Then his body exploded to reveal Myles Cavendish with the stake he had just thrust through his back still clutched in his hand. He grinned momentarily and then reached down to help Faith to her feet. The brunette's grip was so firm she almost toppled the young man over as she rose.

"Thanks, Myles," Faith nodded, although she barely had time to recover before several more vampires surrounded them both. "How about I pay you back for that right now?"

"That would be nice!" Myles yelped as the nearest vampire slashed in his direction with a wickedly large knife.

Throughout her friend's struggle with the lesser vampires, Willow continued to fight Dracula. It was no mere replay of the fight in the cemetery but something new and terrifyingly fierce. Whereas earlier it had been Dracula, lord of vampires against Willow Van Helsing, they now fought as equals – both powerful in their own right. They used a massive space for their combat. As they danced across the battlefield, other vampires hastily cleared a path without making the slightest move to interfere.

Willow felt none of the fear or exhaustion that had so hampered her during their last meeting, she felt nothing but exhilaration. Each time their swords clashed she felt another surge of excitement through her own body, and one of fear through his. Each strike or thrust that he made, she blocked or countered with a superior one of her own. Many times she ducked inside his guard and the tip of her sword sliced into his clothing or even his dead flesh.

"We do not need to fight, Willow Van Helsing," Dracula sounded almost as though he were pleading. "Take your treacherous lovers place at my side and together we can raise my army!"

"You seek to talk only because you know I am stronger!" Willow snorted derisively as she surged forward and their blades rang together once more.

"Yes…you are stronger than I," Dracula admitted freely as he stumbled backwards. "But we are also the same…you feel the power do you not?"

Willow did not reply to Dracula but in her mind she could not deny that she did feel an immensely dark power coursing through her every vein. Although she did not fully understand what had happened to her to interrupt Giles's spell, she knew that somehow the captain's essence that had remained at Covasna had been absorbed by the skull inside her body. It terrified and excited her to realize that she herself was quite possibly becoming Dracula's captain. A part of her knew that she had to end all of this before she was corrupted to the point where she could fight against it no longer. She seized upon the image of Tara in her mind, faint though it was, and pressed forward another attack. Her sword whirled in a blur of motion that no human could have hoped to withstand. Dracula was pressed backwards, faltering with each step to the point where his expression became one of panic. Suddenly he found the sword he held stripped from his fingers; it flew up into the air before Willow's caught it in her iron fist.

Weaponless, he sank to his knees in the dirt in front of her as though in surrender. However the haughty defiance on his face said otherwise. With a sharp tug at her gut, Willow knew he expected her not to kill him…but to join with him.

"Your days of cruelty are finally at an end, Vlad," Willow whispered, her voice grating like gravel against her throat.

"You will not be able to resist it, Willow Van Helsing!" Dracula roared even as he was forced to his knees. "You will feel the call to lead the army and everything that you have fought to stop will come to pass! It will be you who lays waste to the nations at the head of my army! You will be responsible for the slaughter of millions!"

As his words rang inside her head Willow brought up both swords and with a violent scissor-like motion she severed Dracula's head. The head, complete with its long, lustrous black hair, flew through the air for several meters before it exploded. Still kneeling in front of her, the body followed suit just a split second later. Willow lifted both her swords in the air and let out a primeval roar that sounded out around the battlefield, letting all know what had just come to pass. Dracula had been destroyed.

The remaining vampires uttered a collective groan upon the destruction of their lord and master; many turned and ran almost immediately. Faith glanced up from dispatching her latest foe and felt a wild surge of hope as she saw Willow standing alone in the cloud of dust that had once been Dracula. She saw the fleeing vampires and even dared to hope that all of the remaining vampires would flee. However at least a dozen seemed either determined to avenge their leader's death or were too stupid to realize that he had been destroyed. Faith only had time to sigh with exhaustion before facing her next opponent. She gave the short, tubby vampire a look of contempt and ducked beneath his swing, feeling the blade of his sword swish past only a hairsbreadth from her scalp. She then brought the stake in her fist up, through his guard and straight into his chest. When she turned to search out her next target she saw Myles lying on the ground several meters away from her and Lara. He was desperately trying to block the sword of a vampire standing above him, intent on ending the young man's life. With a grunt of effort, she forced herself to sprint the short distance, tackling the vampire around the waist just as he was about to skewer Myles. As the vampire thudded to the ground, she landed atop him and drove her stake downwards. When his body exploded out from beneath her, she hit the ground. Faith lay on her stomach with vampire dust clogging her mouth and nose. She snorted and coughed in an effort to clear her airways before dragging her exhausted body back to her feet. Myles was also picking himself up, fumbling in the dust for his sword.

"Bloody hell, Myles!" Faith snapped seizing the young man by his collar and dragging him out from beneath the reach of the two vampires. "I told you to stay in line!"

"What line?" Myles yelped, glancing at Lara who was nearing the end of her supply of silver bolts and then back to Faith. "There are three of us!" In the melee he could not see Tara or Giles and Willow appeared to be a law unto herself with no thought for the safety of her friends as she chased down fleeing vampires.

"Well, it's better than no line at all!" Faith fired back as she narrowly avoided a swing aimed at her chest. She spun as the sword brushed past, splitting the topmost layer of her red leather. As she turned around to face her attackers, the second vampire brought his mace crashing downwards. It smashed into her hand and sheared her stake in half. She was left with her bloody hand holding a rather pathetic looking splinter.

Before either vampire could take advantage of her almost weaponless state, Myles leapt forward one more and parried a blow that was aimed at Faith's neck. His next thrust went straight into the vampire's heart only seconds before he was slammed aside by the flat of the remaining vampire's sword striking his forehead. Dazed, he dropped his own sword and fell to the ground.

Before the vampire could kill Myles, Faith stepped over his fallen body in a protective stance. She shoved him away from Myles with several powerful jabs to his chin and finally a backhanded blow which sent him spinning to the ground. He had only managed to struggle to his knees when Faith rammed the remaining splinter of her stake through his chest. However, no sooner had he exploded in a cloud of dust she felt an insistent tug at her ankle. She tried to shake off whatever it was only to have what felt like a vice like grip tighten around her lower leg. When she looked down she was staggered to see bony fingers digging into her leg.

"Holy hell!" she gasped, almost immediately realizing that the fingers were very much attached to an equally fleshless body.

One of the long dead warriors was rising from its slumber in a chilling fashion that left her uncharacteristically frozen in a state of shock. She watched as its torso rose from the ground first, before almost dragging the skull up with it. The skull was tilted backwards at an impossible angle before it slowly righted itself. Faith found herself staring into empty eye sockets but she felt a chill go down her spine as she knew it was looking at her, it saw her and the terror in her eyes. She was finally jarred back into action when the hand that was not digging into her leg began to rise, clutched in its fingers was a well rusted but lethally spiked mace. Without wasting another second staring at the skeleton warrior, Faith drew her saber with a steely hiss and brought it crashing down on the arm holding her. The bones splintered with a sickening crack and its grip went slack. Faith then brought her booted foot crashing down on the gape-eyed skull, smashing it instantly and grinding the fragments into the earth.

In a surge of anger, Faith stabbed her toe at the broken bones and sent fragments of skull flying; she looked up only to have her fears confirmed. In every direction she turned, the warriors were rising from their slumber in various states of dismemberment and decay. Even in the midst of the horror, Faith spied one positive aspect. The warriors in their skeletal state obviously made no distinction between human and vampire, they attacked both.

The time for standing and staring was over, Faith was forced to dash forward and extricate Myles from a headlock before a rusty dagger could be drawn across his throat. Although the young man's face had gone a deathly white; he swallowed awkwardly and adjusted his grip on his sword in a determined fashion.

"We have to stay together!" Faith barked, she seized Myles by his shirt sleeve and dragged him back towards the dead tree at the center of the battlefield where she could see Lara reloading her crossbow. Seconds later the museum director sent the bolt flying into the chest of a vampire. "Lara! We've got a slightly bigger problem!"

Faith drew up beside her lover and shoved Myles behind them both. Lara could hardly failed to miss the bodies on the ground stirring, even though few had managed to drag themselves fully upright as of yet. All across the battlefield, thousands of corpses were coming to life, rising up out of the dust in which they had lain for hundreds of years. Slowly they pulled their shattered and mangled limbs together, bony limbs reached out for long rusted weapons. Faith hardly needed to weigh up the situation, if even a few hundred of the warriors arose, their little band would be overrun in a matter of minutes.

"Why the hell is this happening?" Lara turned to Faith with a desperate expression in her eyes. "Dracula is dead…he did not have time to mutter a word of the resurrection spell, this should not be happening!"

Faith held Lara's gaze for a moment, she saw behind the grime, fresh blood and wildly askew hair, the face of the woman she loved. If today was going to be her last, then she could think of no other person she would rather have at her side. She saw Lara recognize the expression in her eyes and she reached out. The two women clasped their bloody hands together for a moment, saying everything that needed to be said in that one touch. Their hands fell apart and Lara dashed her crossbow and empty quiver to the ground to draw her sword.

"Myles, be a gentleman and hand me that mace," Lara said, indicating a rusty weapon lying close to the outstretched hand of a dead warrior.

As Myles wrapped his fingers around its shaft, the bony fingers of its former owner tried to claim in back. They seized his wrist in a vice like grip as he yelped and tried to yank his hand away. It went limp only when Lara brought her sword crashing down on the skeleton's forearm, shattering its bones. Breathing a sigh of relief, Myles snatched up the mace and handed it quickly to her. She accepted it with a grin of thanks and, with sword and mace in hand, turned to hack open the skull of a warrior struggling to rise from the earth.

"I know exactly why this is happening," Faith whispered, she felt sick to her stomach as she slowly turned around and saw Willow…or rather the shape that had once been Willow. The armor had now completely consumed her body, melding to her legs, arms, chest in a gross exaggeration of a human body. Only Willow's head was bare…but it was so obviously still the face of her friend that Faith was able to feel that there was hope yet. Her red hair had turned black, as had her eyes…and yet everything else was still Willow. With one last glance over her shoulder at Lara and Myles, Faith surged across the space that separated her from Willow. As she ran she caught sight of Tara and Giles, the blonde vampire desperately trying to revive the stricken warlock while at the same time desperately attempting to fight off the new threat in the form of Dracula's army. She could see the vampire's strength was flagging but it was all she could do to continue towards Willow. Faith felt another surge of hope when she saw Willow reached out and wrap her gauntleted fist around the face of one of the warriors. She smashed the skull by merely closing her armored fist.

"Will!" Faith ran towards her friend, knowing that they would stand a far greater chance of survival if she could keep their small band together.

She approached Willow and in one awful moment realized that the expression on her face was not one of welcome. Willow's sword flashed, catching her off guard. Faith was knocked off her feet even as she blocked the blow. As she crashed to the earth she lay in a state of pain and shock, a part of her expected Willow to finish the job…and a part of her expected Willow to help her to her feet. Neither happened as Faith tried groggily to pick herself up. She was forced to swat a blurry skeleton warrior away with the flat of her sword and her shoulder protested with the movement. With some element of relief she saw its skull toppled from its shoulders and she was able to struggle back to her feet.

"What the hell!" Faith demanded of her friend, seeing Willow still standing in front of her.

Willow's response was to advance forward with her sword raised towards Faith as though about to attack. Faith couldn't believe that it was about to happen until, at the last moment, she was actually force to block Willow as she attacked her. From there, Faith was in a desperate struggle for her life, fighting against a friend who appeared to be on a different plain of reality altogether.

In the awful moments that had passed since Willow's transformation, Tara had been operating in a mechanical fashion. Even as she sent fireballs smashing into the chests of vampires in all directions, she could not get Willow's blank expression out of her mind. It was an expression that had been devoid of emotion and recognition as she walked past her and straight towards the oncoming vampires. Although Tara had lost sight of Willow in the melee, she knew that she was out there laying waste to everything in her path.

She fought her way back to the tree and found Giles crumpled over next to what remained of the Captain's skeleton, just a few rags and a deep impression in the earth. His face was blanched white and his breathing was shallow. Tara threw herself down next to the warlock and lightly shook him by the shoulders. There was no response. She heard a rasping of bones behind her and barely had time to glance up before something flashed at her and she was sent crashing backwards, she hit the earth with a dull thud and felt a surge of heat radiating out from her forehead. A few moments later her vision was obscured by freely flowing blood. She lashed out at the warrior that stood above her, clutching a bloody sword in its hand. A spell of air sent him flying into the tree where the force of impact shattered what remained of the tree's trunk, bringing it crashing to the earth.

Tara desperately turned her attention back to the unconscious man lying in front of her, "Giles, Giles please…"

She watched as first Giles's lips moved slightly, then gradually his eyes opened. He blinked several times but when lifted a hand to his face to search for his glasses they were not there.

"Giles…Giles," Tara continued to shake him gently even as he regained consciousness, "The army is waking because of Willow…you have to perform the destruction spell before it's too late!" She then helped Giles into a sitting position whether he was ready for it or not. "I'm sorry your glasses were broken…"

Giles turned to look at her, saw the desperation on her face and then determinedly tried to stand under his own power. "I don't need them for this anyway…where is Willow?" he gasped as he heaved himself to his feet by leaning heavily on Tara's shoulder.

He saw the look on Tara's face when she indicated a direction and he immediately knew that it something was terribly amiss. When he turned he thought he saw Faith fighting some monstrous vampire…but he quickly saw he was wrong. It was not a vampire at all but Willow, her body completely consumed by the armor of Dracula's captain. She fought Faith with an almost completely blank expression, as though she had no idea that the woman desperately trying to avoid ending up on the point of her sword was in fact her dearest friend. Both he and Tara gasped as Willow slipped inside Faith's sword thrust and delivered a powerful backhanded blow. Faith barely had enough time to regain her balance to try and block the blow. Although she got her sword up in time, Willow's strike was too powerful; it knocked her sword aside and slashed across her shoulder. Faith's sword clattered to the ground only a second before she toppled to the ground.

"The spell, Giles!" Tara yelled, already surging forward to where Willow was poised over Faith, about to finish her off. "The spell!"

Tara could not keep her attention focused on Giles any longer. She had to trust that the warlock was still capable of performing the magic necessary despite his exhaustion. She only had eyes for Willow.

Before Willow could plunge the sword downwards into Faith's body, Tara knocked her sword arm aside. Willow immediately let out a grunt of frustration and made instead to swing at Tara. Placing herself directly in the path of the sword, Tara stepped close enough to Willow to be able to reach out and seize her chin in a firm grip. She forced Willow to stare at her, to meet her gaze directly. Even as Willow's sword arm slackened and she did not follow through on the swing that would have buried her sword in her waist, she did not allow her gaze to waver.

She searched Willow's face, despite the armor cocooning her body, it was still very much Willow. There was more than a hint of recognition in her eyes even though the emerald green that Tara loved appeared to have been leeched from them completely, leaving two soulless white orbs with pricks of black at the center.

"Willow keep looking at me!" Tara demanded harshly, knowing that if she faltered Willow would once again try to strike her down. Behind her she heard Giles begin to utter the destruction spell; she felt a surge of power through her own body as he summoned the very power inherent in the battlefield. It was a filthy evil force and yet it was stronger than she could have imagined. It flowed up from the very earth beneath their feet, flooding their bodies with a taint so strong it made Tara want to retch. She saw Willow's entire face slacken and for a moment flecks of green returned to her gaze. "Will…please stay with me!"

"I'm here," Willow's voice sounded like a thousand booming voices and yet beneath them all Tara could still distinguish the small one that belonged to her lover.

Even though Willow knew full well that in reality she was still standing on the battlefield, she felt as though she was somewhere else altogether. A place far removed from the chaos going on around them with the warriors rising from their slumber, it was a place where she and Tara existed alone. She tried to draw Tara further into that place where she knew they would both be safe but Tara's fingers immediately dug even more fiercely into her chin and her face contorted as though she were struggling against something.

"Willow! For god's sake stay with me…feel your feet on the ground, feel my touch!" Tara insisted.

"But…" Willow tried to open her mouth but no sound emerged other than a tortured groan. Instead she tried to speak through her mind and she found the words flowed more easily, We should leave! she thought desperately, We should leave and go somewhere safe…Tara please come with me…away from all of this pain!

You don't understand Will, Tara's voice replied in her mind but her voice was distant, as though she was being drawn away, If you leave then the demon inside you will win…you'll be trapped within your own body…Tara's voice faded until Willow had to strain to hear her,…friends will die…fail…

At first Willow didn't believe Tara's words, she convinced herself that it was something else speaking with Tara's voice. However she saw Tara standing in front of her, she felt her fingernails digging painfully into the flesh of her face and she knew she spoke the truth. Although she had no idea how to do it, Willow concentrated all her energy on the physical reality of her existence, on her feet standing on the ground. With a gut wrenching scream she forced herself back to reality…as painful as it was. She sagged almost immediately, nearly crushed by the weight of the pain that coursed through her body. Tara was forced to use both arms to keep her upright, effectively cradling Willow against her body.

"It…hurts!" Willow whispered, gasping for breath, "Please tell Giles to stop!"

Even though she was in no pain, Tara let out a cry of her own in tandem with Willow's. She felt her lover's pain and it was killing her to be able to do nothing to relieve it.

As Giles's words intensified in her ears, Willow felt as though she were being ripped apart. There were points of pain throughout her entire body, as though something inside her was straining to get out.

Willow glanced down at the skin on the back of her hand and her eyes widened in horror as several small wounds were violently torn in her skin as something was expelled from within. A split second later Tara released her with a cry and she was thrown against the ground, also writhing in pain as though the same tearing sensation occurred throughout her body. Giles's words and Tara's screams were all she could hear in her ears…both built to a crescendo even as she tried to force her eyes to open. She had to wipe something moist and sticky from her eyes before she could see and she quickly realized it was blood from the tiny wounds covering her face. Through her blood-clouded gaze she saw a whirling vortex hovering between her and Tara, and Giles. At the center of it swirled the now fully intact skull and something else Willow could not recognize, a dark shape with a life of its own that seemed to be struggling against the sides of the vortex in an effort to escape.

She saw Giles, his face dripping with sweat. He was gradually forced to one knee beneath the weight of the magicks he now wielded but somehow the words continued to leave his lips. Willow tried to lift her body, to reach out to him to offer some sort of strength but it was all she could do to keep her eyes open. His voice built to a crescendo and then abruptly cut off.

In the almost deathly silence that followed, Willow could hear her own hoarse breathing and the blood pounding in her head. The skull and the dark form continued to revolve in the vortex. For the first time now she was able to make out something in the shadows of the form, something that looked like a disturbing approximation of Tara's features. However her attention was drawn to Giles who was now staring at her with a blank expression on his face, he remained kneeling for a second more before he toppled forward, face first into the ground.

Suddenly the vortex imploded before her eyes, the skull and the dark Tara-form were crushed in on themselves in an instant. For a brief moment, the entire vortex was a mere dot in the sky. Then, without warning, it exploded outwards with a deafening boom.

Willow was crushed flat against the earth as though she had been hit with a train. Everything went dark and she finally found a welcome relief from the pain.

With the insistent voice shouting at her repeatedly, Willow forced her eyes to open, if only to see who it was long enough to tell them to shut up and let her sleep. Her eyes stung painfully as she pried the lids open and she steeled herself to be blinded by light, however there was only the dim, yellow light of dusk as it was chased from the sky above her and she found she could open them easily. Her view of the sky was then obscured by the thoroughly disheveled and dirty visage of Faith Winters. As her vision came into full focus she decided, not unkindly, her that friend had definitely seen better days. Her hair had all but escaped its restraints and hung lank and grimy about her face. There was more dried blood and dirt on her face than there was skin showing. Fresh blood still seeped from a nasty wound slashed her collarbone and down to her left shoulder that had been forceful enough to tear her leather armor. Willow tried to sit but found not an ounce of strength in her muscles.

Faith reached out and brushed a clump of her hair from her eyes. If anything, Willow thought her friend's movements were a little tentative, as though she were afraid to reach out and touch her for some reason. Willow found she was able to feel all of her limbs if not move them and she was gratified to realize that they were all still attached and appeared to function, albeit not very well. Her right hand twitched and she felt her fingers relax from their hold on a weapon of sorts. With a little effort she found herself able to lift the hand from the ground. When she lifted the hand within her field of vision she was shocked to find her skin covered in black scales that were steadily flaking off in large chunks. Willow yelped out of shock and found a sudden burst of strength, enough to rise into a sitting position and begin scraping frantically at the scales. She soon discovered that they fell off easily to reveal her normal, unblemished skin lying beneath.

"What the hell happened?" Willow sagged slightly after her initial display of strength but she was in no danger of falling when Faith moved quickly to support her with her uninjured arm. She scanned the battlefield in front of her and saw that nothing much had changed from the moment she and her companions had stepped out onto it the previous afternoon. Piles of rusty armor lay heaped at irregular intervals…only now they were without the bones that had previously given them shape.

Gradually everything began to come back to Willow. She remembered the shock of the armor melding to her body…and their desperate fight against Dracula's hoard of vampires. Willow let out a small breath as she remembered seeing his head roll from his shoulders and the look on his face before his body exploded. Then it was all a blur, the interminable cold she had felt…and the increasingly numbness of both feeling and emotion as she became detached from her companions around her.

Willow saw Lara squatting over something in distance, her dark hair hanging unbound and her head lowered. Willow's look became increasingly furtive when she realized she could not find her other companions. "Where is everyone?"

"It was a good fight…" it was all Faith could whisper, the brunette's head dropped too and Willow thought she looked as though she were about to collapse.

Willow's eyes opened wide as she remembered the violent explosion of light and shadow that had been the last thing she remembered. Tara had been lying directly beside her after struggling so desperately to keep her focused on reality. She remembered the shadowy form that had been destroyed in the vortex along with the skull…she remembered Tara's face twisted in immense pain.

With some effort, the brunette nodded over her shoulder with an expression that was supposed to be a smile…but she could not even force one onto her tired features, "I need to see to the others, will you be alright?"

Even as Willow nodded hastily, she was already turning her entire body in the direction Faith had indicated. She felt Faith leave her side and began an awkward crawl towards a dark outline that lay on the ground several meters from her. Her movements became increasingly frantic the closer she came. It was undoubtedly Tara; the vampire was lying on her back with her blonde hair fanning out around her. Her eyes were closed and her face peaceful…as though in death.

"No, no, no…" Willow whispered, her voice choking with tears, "Tara…please open your eyes dearest!"

She scrambled across the ground on her knees and elbows, ignoring rusty weapons and scraps of armor until she was practically lying atop Tara. Willow was close enough to see the gentle but evident rise and fall of Tara's chest. She let out an undignified snort of relief which quickly became a coughing fit that added snot to the mix of undesirable substances clinging to her face. Her grimy fingers reached out to stroke Tara's skin, she was surprised to find it unblemished and clean despite the chaos of battle Tara had just lived through. However it was a small thought that paled in comparison to the knowledge that Tara was alive.

The blonde's eyelashes began to flutter at Willow's touch. When the cloudy but still brilliant eyes finally looked up her, she allowed herself a grin of relief. Tara's mouth worked but she said nothing at first, Willow continued to stroke her cheek and it was now, with the knowledge that Tara was going to be alright, that she realized several things about the blonde were decidedly odd. Her hair, which had once been pale verging on white, was now a luscious golden color. It eerily reminded Willow of the color it had been during Tara's lifetime. There were also two spots on color on Tara's normally marble white cheeks. Willow gently lent down to deposit a kiss on Tara's nose and the color intensified. Finally, Tara smiled…and Willow could see no trace of the fangs which so physically marked her as a vampire.

"Tara?" Willow whispered in awe, trying to fathom what had possibly happened to bring about such changes. "I know asking how you feel is a ridiculous question…but how do you feel?"

Tara felt the cold earth at her back, her entire body felt as though it had been thrown from a great height but all of this seemed insignificant next to the fact that it was Willow's gorgeous visage that filled her vision. Tara turned her head slightly, apart from Willow's face there was absolutely nothing she recognized.

"What on earth is happening?" Tara whispered, experiencing the decidedly unpleasant sensation of waking up with absolutely no knowledge of where she was or how she had got there. She propped herself up on her elbows and then felt a strong grip assisting her. She looked around wildly for a few moments, seeing nothing but horror in every direction until her eyes fell upon Willow once again.

"Oh god, Will!" Tara cried as she threw herself forward into Willow's waiting arms. She found the very breath being squeezed from her lungs in return but she did not care, she merely tightened her grasp and did the same to Willow. As a result, when she drew back slightly after several minutes, Willow's face was flushed pink from a lack of oxygen and she was sure her own was just the same. Tara ran her fingers over Willow's decidedly dirty face and down over the twisted and torn clothing she wore. "Will…my god, whatever happened to you…whatever happened to us? Where are we?"

Tara had so many questions that were tumbling over one another and yet Willow's mouth worked soundlessly as she was unable to answer even one of them. She knew exactly what had happened and where they were, but it was the fact that Tara did not, that left her speechless. It was almost as though…

"Willow…w-where are we?" Tara repeated in Willow's silence, her huge eyes pleading.

"I am so sorry for everything I did," Tara continued in a whisper, oblivious to the expression of realization dawning on Willow's face.

As she spoke the words she of course had no way of knowing that Willow would subconsciously interpret her apology as having a far wider reach than she herself intended. She did not know that her last hundred years had been spent as a vampire and that during that time she had both betrayed and murdered her love. Willow was shaking as she reached out towards Tara once again.

Oblivious to the whirl of thoughts cascading through Willow's head, Tara allowed the redhead to draw her even closer. She tilted her head so her lips lay pressed against Willow's ear. "Please tell me it is not too late to change my mind and choose you over Edward Walsh?"

Willow felt fresh tears sear her eyes. She drew away from Tara in one swift movement and stood on her unsteady legs. Everything came down to that choice…the choice Tara had had to make. It had determined the course of their lives…it had determined that they would be end up at Covasna in the aftermath of the final battle. Willow saw Faith and Lara embracing over a fallen form she recognized to be Giles. She searched but could see no sign of Myles in the debris and it was all she could do to hope the young man was crouched in a hole somewhere, shaken but alive.

"Myles?" she had intended it as a shout, but it came out a mere whisper that hardly carried past her and Tara.

"W-Willow?" Tara probed in a worried voice. She too had risen to her feet. With one hand she reached out and brushed against Willow's arm in an effort to attract her lover's attention once again.

Willow's shirt was torn, Tara touched her bare skin. At the touch, the stricken redhead wrenched her gaze away from her friends and back to Tara. She could do nothing but stare for a moment. It was not the Tara who had walked onto the battlefield…it was the Tara who had walked out on her almost one hundred years earlier. She finally answered her question,

"No," Willow whispered, shaking her head slowly as she said it. "Tara…it is not too late…" I would not consider a hundred years too late…not now, not after everything we've been through…

Tara held out her arms as if seeking to seal her promise with an embrace. Willow held back before finally allowing herself to sink into Tara's embrace, Willow lost herself to great gulping sobs that left her whole body racked and trembling. However the more violently her body shook, the more Tara intensified her embrace.

Although it was difficult for Willow to acknowledge…even in her head, she realized that it was over. Dracula and the skull had both been destroyed after hundreds of years of struggle, after so many sacrifices. Even though she did not know the full extent of what had happened, Willow knew that their victory had come at a huge cost. It was a cost that she would eventually have to face and yet at that moment Willow wanted to rest, comforted by the solid realization that she was safe in Tara's innocent arms.

So Tara held her. In the end, everything had returned to as it was at the beginning in 1777 with two young women alone in a stable…

However, this time Willow knew that there was no way in hell she was going to let Tara go…

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