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 stunte

Van Rosenberg

by Alcy

Copyright © 2007

annagreaves@yahoo.co.uk