Birth, Death, Love and Hate by Connor Kubrick

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All characters that have appeared in the series Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel, together with the names, titles and back story are the sole copyright property of Joss Whedon, Fox and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement was intended in the writing of this fan fiction. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. Neither the author nor any sites this story may appear on receive any compensation for the story.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Spoilers: All of season 7 of Buffy and season 4 of Angel.
Feedback: Yes, but I can't guarantee a reply. And it's my first fic, so be lenient!
Author's Notes: Few things you should know. At the time of writing, Buffy has finished, Cordelia is in a coma, Angel is the only one with a memory of Connor and Spike will somehow be resurrected in LA. This story is set one and a half years after 'Chosen', and everything that has happened in both shows are regarded. However, since then (in my wacko fanfic world) Cordelia has woken up and is back to her not evil, yet not wanting to date Angel ways, Connor is still gone with only Angel's memories as proof of his former life, Spike is still a vampire with a soul (and dislike for Angel), Giles has gone back to England and the new slayers have disbanded, fighting evil around the world. Despite everything in the story that may seem confusing, ALL will be cleared up, I swear! One last thing, I'm English, so you'll encounter my English spellings for some things, but I'll really make an effort when American characters are speaking/thinking, I swear! Okay, really the last thing now, as I am human I don't like all characters equally, and hence subconsciously may put these characters in negative or threatening (by which I mean dead) positions. Of course it's all subconsciously. I have no control over it.
PS: There really is a drink in England called Sunny-D (Sunny Delight). Dunno if they make anywhere else. Just thought it was funny. Which it isn't.

Pairing: Willow/Tara
Summary: A fatal attack on Willow brings about the Slayers' deadliest foe.

With a click of the ankle chain, he was bound. His body could still rest comfortably (or near to comfortably) on the floor, as the chains were quite long. They were hooked around the one of the pillars near the stairs, and were heavy duty; they would often have to restrain demons. They made sure that the chains restricted him from reaching the weapons, or anything else that he could use against them.

Gunn looked down at the unconscious body restricted in chains. "How long do you think he'll be out for?"

"Dunno." Xander shrugged, looking over his shoulder at Giles, who was studying the Tome along with Wesley and Angel. "Hey Giles, how long do you expect Ethan here to be out?"

"Well you should know. You're the one who magic-sucked him." Xander frowned, turning to Gunn. "Or was it the book that did that?"

"Hey!" Willow looked up from where her and Tara were on the couch. "We didn't magic-suck anyone." She thought for a moment and turned to Tara. "Did we?"

Giles cleared his throat and looked up at the group. "Well I'm hoping we'll find the answer in these pages." He nodded down at the Tome of the Gods, which was still open at the inscription of the Gods. None of them had even moved it, for fear of what would happen. The Tome of the Gods was renowned for being deadly, and the fact that it should've closed itself long ago left them all on edge.

"Good, then it's giving us some more time." Buffy stood up and walked around the lobby, just as she had been doing throughout the past hour almost non-stop; the situation was getting more and more worrying. "Just make sure you use it to find something out before it shuts again." She glanced at where Willow and Tara were. "I want to know what's going on."

Being the slayer, Buffy was used to knowing what was happening. However, this meant that when she didn't she liked it even less than most, especially when people she loved were in danger. Now her best friend and her soul mate, who'd returned from the dead after 3 torturous years for the redhead, were being hunted. But it weren't just them, all of them were in danger. Giles had told her everything, including the massacre on the runway, which meant there was something immensely powerful involved in all this. As well as that, both the watchers' council and Wolfram and Hart are desperate to get involved, and they have absolutely no idea what brought Tara back. What she did know, however, just worried her more. What had happened only half an hour before was obviously the work of the Gods, and that this went that high up scared Buffy. The worse thing for Buffy was the fact that she was feeling helpless. Twice Willow had been taken, and twice she was unable to save her. She could tell this wasn't going to be resolved with slayer strength alone.

"It's not as simple as that." Wesley scoffed. "The Gods would've kept their most potent secrets deep within this book where only they could see it. I doubt we'll find anything more than we already know."

Buffy snorted. "I doubt that, unless that page has 'diddly-squat' written over and over again."

"My point is that without breaking the spell on the Tome of the Gods, we just have more questions." Wesley surmised. "We need it properly opened."

"Break the spell?" Giles snickered. "And just how do you suppose we go about that? Ask Sigmund and Freud to do a little trick while their tigers distract the watchers?"

"He's right." Tara nodded. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at her in confusion. It didn't do wonders for her nerves. "I-I mean that w-we can't possibly break the spell. N-not about the tigers."

Willow felt her heart swell at Tara's embarrassment. It was vintage Tara, and she absolutely adored it. She grasped at her hand. "I'm with them on this. No one can break a God's spell except the Gods themselves."

"So the Tome is useless." Buffy rolled her eyes. She was becoming increasingly frustrated.

"Not exactly." Giles reassured her. "There could be information here that could suggest where we could look next."

"It could take a while to decipher the text fully." Angel warned gravely. "Everyone better stay away from the Tome. It could be devastating if anyone touches it."

"Hey, as anyone seen my Manilow?" Lorne's voice floated through the air as he came from the office and out into the main lobby. Before anyone realized what he was doing, he nonchalantly lifted the Tome up, checked underneath it and dropped it back down before moving on around the counter. Even though his hasty movements flicked the pages over to an unseen page, nothing happened. Everyone in the room, except of course Ethan, stared at him with his mouth wide open. It didn't take long for Lorne to notice everyone looking at him. "What?"

Giles spun his head around to examine that the pages had indeed turned. "It's a completely new page."

Everyone moved closer to the counter to get a look at the Tome. "I thought it would zap anyone who touched it?" Buffy frowned.

"Giles!" Wesley chided in a whisper, not quite believing what the man was risking.

Giles paid no attention, though. Everyone around him leaned in closer as he took a deep breath. Like ripping off a plaster, Giles flipped the page over in a flash of speed. When nothing happened, he turned another page, his confidence lifted. He began flipping through the pages, but still nothing happened.

"I thought only Gods could break the spell?" Xander spoke up, not quite understanding much of what was going on.

Giles finally turned away from the Tome and took his glasses for the bridge of his nose to clean them. "I don't know." He shook his head. "But I think we might have our answers now." He pointed to the Tome with his glasses.

It was in a seedy bar accessed via one of LA's alleyways that Faith found Kennedy. It wasn't actually a demon bar, but that fact didn't make it any more appeasing. The smell was overwhelming, and grime slid down the walls at a barely noticeable pace, making it look like a thousand slugs.

When Faith found Kennedy drowning her sorrows at the bar, it had been her intention to get herself and the other slayer out of the filthy building as soon as possible. However, Kennedy's unwillingness to leave and her own troubled mind soon drew Faith into the allure of alcohol. Hours after she arrived, Faith sat alongside Kennedy on the barstools, both of their motor skills were worse for wears, they were down on a few brain cells and their sorrows were awash in a sea of beer.

"You're not good enough." Faith giggled. "Red's always had her standards far too high. 'Oh, Buffy, that Faith isn't good enough to be friends with you.'" She smirked at her own impression of Willow. "She's stuck up, that's her problem. If you're a bit naughty you're too good for Willow. As if she can talk." She mumbled.

Kennedy attacked Faith with a sloppy push that only increased the dark slayer's pendulum swing. "Hey, I may be upset but I still love her. Don't bitch." Despite her best efforts, her threat was lost in the slur of her voice.

"I can bitch if I want. They do it to me, why shouldn't I to her." Faith shrugged and leaned into Kennedy. "You have to agree with me, though, right? Just a teeny, tiny bit." She demonstrated by pretending to hold a tiny object between her thumb and index finger.

For a few seconds Kennedy did nothing but slouch against the bar, but suddenly erupted into giggles, giggles which were reciprocated but Faith's own. "Okay, she can be a bit snobby."

"I ain't no snob." Kennedy repeated her earlier shove, only with an even weaker effect. "Just because I've got money don't mean I don't like people who don't have money, or who do naughty things." The effects the alcohol was taking on Kennedy's speech was lost to both girls. "I'm hanging with you aren't I?"

"Trust me, she'll be all hugs and kisses tomorrow." Faith promised, trying to look Kennedy in the eyes (unsuccessfully). "Don't let her go without a fight."

"Dating advice from you?!" Kennedy giggled into her glass. "Jeez, you've changed since I last saw you."

Faith's tone turned serious. "You're right. I learnt a few things in Boston." She focused her eyes properly on the short brunette. "So listen to me. Don't you dare let her go." She ordered, her features dark with the memory of Wood's death.

The sudden shift in the tone of the drunken high jinks left the girls in silence for a couple of minutes before the bartender started closing the bar and the girls accepted the fact that the hotel awaited them.

Kennedy recognized her immediately from Willow's pictures. But she had never seen the blonde witch as any kind of a threat for two reasons: one, she thought Willow's ex was far less attractive than herself, and two, the girl had also been dead for the past three years. However, by the way Kennedy had walked in on them in the lobby-snuggled tightly together with their hands entwined and heads resting on each other-Willow didn't see either of these as a factor.

Willow and Tara jumped up from their embrace wide-eyed. Willow quickly positioned herself between Tara and Kennedy in response to the slayer's threatening and enraged stance. The rest of the lobby had also been alerted to the proceedings and watched, genuinely intrigued.

"It's her!" Kennedy yelled out, pointing her finger out to alert everyone's attention. "It's Willow's dead ex!" She was confused at the fact that only herself and Faith seemed shocked at this.

Kennedy's choice of words annoyed Willow, but the redhead forced down the temptation to challenge the slayer on her rant, not wanting to enrage her further. "Kennedy, listen for a second…"

Seeing how Kennedy's stance was unnerving Tara, Willow stepped between the girls, effectively cutting off the slayer's line of sight and raised her and Tara's still entwined hands. "It's not the First. See-touchable." She smirked at the images that marched through her mind at the thought of 'touchable Tara'.

"But-" Kennedy cut herself off. Suddenly it fitted into place. Why Willow had refused her proposal…she knew. "Wait!" Kennedy mouth twisted in disgust. "You're telling me this is why you said no? You cast me off so you could screw a zombie?!"

Buffy didn't even need to look at her best friend to know it was time to intervene. Kennedy's words had boiled Willow's blood, and Buffy could feel it. She was about to explode. Before the redhead had a chance to attack her, Buffy grabbed the drunk girl and moved to drag her upstairs. "Whoa! Okay, upstairs now, boozy."

Kennedy ignored Buffy and kept focused on the girls before her. "There's a word for that-necrophilia." The small woman shrugged her elbow from Buffy's grasp, making the blonde's job as difficult as possible.

"Faith, give me a hand here!" Buffy called without looking over to the ex-rogue slayer, and was pleased when Faith grabbed the girl. Together they were able to quite easily drag the drunken slayer up the stairs.

"Get off me!" Kennedy struggled, to no avail. "This is between me and them." She sneered.

Willow's face was red and she never broke from her stare at Kennedy since she made the zombie remark. She was on the edge of telling Buffy and Faith to let her go so she could try and beat her up. The fact that she knew she wouldn't be able to touch Kennedy before the slayer knocked her out, and that Kennedy was probably saying these things out of her own hurt, the alcohol she drank and her shock were the only things stopping her. However, if she was to turn around and see the tears in Tara's eyes and her trembling bottom lip, she would've probably disregarded her logical restraints. "Kennedy, just go." She seethed between clenched teeth.

Kennedy recognized Willow had spoken to her, but not what the words actually were. "Save your breath for your dead whore!" Buffy and Faith had by now maneuvered Kennedy up the stairs and across the balcony out of sight.

"Don't knock on the necrophilia." Buffy warned under her breath as she pulled Kennedy out of the lobby.

As soon as Kennedy left her sight, the tension fell form Willow's body, making her physically droop. She span around to the blonde behind her. "Sweetie, you okay?" She ducked her head down to try to look into Tara's downward eyes. Tara nodded slightly, but couldn't find her voice.

Tara tried to believe that it was just the drink, but part of her agreed with Kennedy's comments; told her she was wrong for wanting Willow back after having been dead for three years. In the state she was in, she found herself unable to feign being fine and decided to make her excuses with minimal tears. "Y'know, I-I-I'm tired, I'm gonna…" She'd already reached the stairs. Her best efforts had little effect.

Gunn, having watched from the sofas in the lobby with Xander, decided he'd follow their lead. "Bed's sounding like a good plan. Sweet dreams of apocalyptic war zones and glowing lesbians is always a good thing." He stood up before turning back to Xander as he was hit by an afterthought. "Just so we're clear, I was only being sarcastic for the first half of that sentence." He crossed over the length of the lobby.

"Hey wait." Xander called out, following him. He grabbed Gunn's arm and pulled him into a corner for privacy. "I need a favor."

When Willow had got to her and Tara's room (although they hadn't officially established whether it was both of theirs or not) she found Tara making the bed. She hesitantly approached, but was held back a couple of feet away from the blonde by a psychological wall in her brain. "Tara…" She spoke gently, as if the girl's eardrums were burst and even the slightest raised voice would pain her. "Are you okay."

Tara's trip upstairs had proven to calm her nerves beyond the point of actually crying, but she still felt as if being with Willow was in someway wrong, and that to Tara was very upsetting indeed. "I-I just want to go to bed." She smiled slightly at the redhead before dropping her eyes to focus on the futile task of smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles in the bed sheets.

Willow swallowed. It was this that she had been afraid of, and although she felt quite sure that Tara would be feeling at least a little better in the morning, she would still need to bring up the subject of where they can sleep. "Tara…where do I…where can I sleep?"

Tara's eyes shot up and her brow furrowed as she tried to decipher Willow's question. "What?"

"I don't really want to sleep in a different room of the hotel." Willow explained hesitantly, avoiding Tara's eyes throughout. "But there's…only one bed and you…I…I don't think we…" For someone known for babbling, Willow had an incredibly tough time getting her words out.

Tara was about to suggest that they could both fit in the large double bed, but found she was once again hit with the extremely unnerving belief that this was wrong. With this feeling coursing through her veins, and not wanting in any way to make it worse, she resolved sleeping together, even if they were actually sleeping, was not for the best. Also, of course, they were supposed to be taking it slow anyway. "I'll just sleep on the couch."

"No!" Willow moved to block Tara's movement into the living room. "You're still recovering from evil watchers and magic guys. You get the bed."

"Which I can do on the couch, so no arguing." Willow had her resolve face armed and ready for deployment.

"No arguing." Willow repeated. Tara dropped her arms in defeat, knowing Willow was armed and dangerous with that impenetrable resolve face. If Willow would go up to the bad guys, put on that face and tell them to go away and stop being evil, they'd probably do it. "Now if you don't mind I'm going to find some sheets I can use for my couch tonight." Willow grinned in triumph. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Tara returned as Willow turned and closed the bedroom door behind her.

The sun had just started rising, making the sky light up like fire. Giles had no idea he had been up so long until the light bounced off his glasses. Even so, he didn't care much. Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago, but Giles found he couldn't sleep until he had at least some answers from the Tome, which he had been studying ever since it had opened. So far he had actually found quite a bit, although none of it was particularly pleasing. He had decided to put off telling the others (besides Wesley) anything he'd found until he could finish the particular passage.

Finding a part that required the assistance of one of Wesley's books, which he couldn't find elsewhere, Giles resolved to ask the man in question. He crossed over the lobby towards the stairs, glancing momentarily at Ethan's body as he passed it. No sooner had he lifted his gaze from his bound nemesis did Giles trip over the man's leg. At first he thought that he had misjudged the man's position, but soon realized that Ethan was awake and had tripped him purposely. Far from just amusement, Ethan had a reason for having faked sleep and tripping the watcher. The moment Giles had hit the ground Ethan had his hand gripping his throat and pinning him to the ground.

"Now think very carefully about your next move, Rupert." He growled into the man's ear. "You can unlock the shackles or I can kill you. Which will it be?"

"I don't know where the key is." Giles chocked out. His right hand was trying to push Ethan off of him, but Ethan had little trouble subduing it. However, Giles was merely using his right hand to distract him while his left hand traveled down to his trouser pocket.

"Here." Giles, finding what he wanted, closed his fingers around the knife in his pocket and thrust it deep into the side of Ethan's thigh. Using Ethan's pained wail as a diversion, Giles knocked Ethan off him and stumbled back, being careful to retrieve the knife from the Englishman's leg as he did to prevent him from using it later on.

"Few hours. I knew you had to take a break eventually. I know you, Ripper." Ethan told him.

"I didn't expect to get free, really." Ethan shrugged and then winced when he lifted his blood soaked hand and investigated the wound fully. "But it was something to do." He laughed grudgingly.

"They want their power." Ethan admitted nonchalantly. "They think they are linked to some kind of Goddess."

"I was in it for the power." The sorcerer smirked at him. "They didn't want to tell, I didn't want to know." Ethan brought his gaze over to the book that lie open on the counter. He recognized it the instant he saw it during the magical face off between himself and Giles. It was why he was so worried at the time, and it seemed he had just cause. "I see you have given your book another try. I must admit I like what it used to do a lot better." Ethan smirked.

"The Tome was never meant to be used that way, Ethan. We were wrong." Giles' eyes darkened at the thought of the sickening memory of the last time himself, Ethan and the Tome were together.

"Who says you haven't got it wrong now?" Ethan arched his eyebrow up at his old friend. "I mean, here you are, doing the right thing, and where has it got you? Sleepless nights. Alone. No kids. No wife. No money. No power."

"Buffy and her friends are my children." Giles corrected with narrowed eyes. "They're all I need."

"Really? What about the good fight?" Ethan questioned. "Would you give up your precious girls if it meant saving the world…if it saved your soul from all that darkness we caused?"

"Absolutely nothing." Ethan smirked. It was good to know that even when he was bound and helpless he could thoroughly piss Giles off. "But those girls have something to do with the Goddess. And while you thought I was asleep, I watched you deciphering that book. Like I said, I know you Giles, and you didn't like what you read. Not one bit."

"I'm saying, that when it comes down to it, are you man enough to make the choice? Your children or your soul and the world?" The man was truly interested in what Giles would choose. "That kind of sacrifice can make up for everything, Ripper. In the eyes of God, or the Powers or whatever the hell is up there, you will be a hero."

Giles dropped his head and closed his eyes as he thought of what Ethan was saying. For over half his life he had fought to fight against the evil he caused; to fully repent. But at such a cost… "In the eyes of them, I'd be a hero." Giles agreed. He looked up at Ethan, his weary eyes evidence of his conviction. "But in mine I'll be nothing worse than a monster. And I'll never be able to live with that."

Giles walked past Ethan and started to ascend the stairs to retrieve the book he needed from Wesley, suddenly remembering how he got into a conversation with Ethan in the first place. "I guess we'll see." Ethan's words stalled Giles to a standstill. "When we see everyone dying all around you, yourself and your children included, I wonder if you'll curse that decision." Ethan turned his head around to look at Giles' back. Giles continued to just stare into space. "It's just something to think about."

After a few more moments of composure, Giles forced himself up the stairs, leaving Ethan alone to tend to his wound.

Willow hadn't gotten much sleep at all during the night. The entire day had been one thing after another, and they still had absolutely no idea of what was going on. Also, Kennedy's words had a profound effect on Willow, and she realized Tara was probably feeling the same. However, as she had known Kennedy for a number of years she knew the girl didn't truly mean what she said; it was just the drink talking. But Tara obviously didn't know that.

The blonde's actions told Willow that the slayer's words had really hurt her. Although they hadn't really discussed Tara's resurrection since Willow told her everything back in England, she knew Tara had some troubling thoughts about it. She wondered whether she was some kind of instrument of evil, or if she was really alive at all. Willow could tell Tara had the feelings that Kennedy voiced since back in England.

So, once the light of dawn began to flood into the room of the hotel, Willow had gotten up and left the room. She wanted to be speak to Kennedy in a state of sobriety, for the sake of Tara as much as herself. She needed to make sure what was said last night was not really how she felt.

Pleased to note that the second floor room she was in was unlocked, Willow crept into Kennedy's room, not wanting to wake the slayer if she were still asleep. She wasn't. She was clearing the room of the items she used in her attempted seduction yesterday while simultaneous holding her hand to her throbbing forehead.

The slayer turned when she heard the door close behind her. She sighed when she saw who it was. "Willow…" She spoke groggily. Willow could see the weariness under her eyes, indicating the turbulent night she had just had.

"Hi." Willow spoke directly, uncomfortable. She shuffled nervously on the spot just in front of the door. Although Kennedy's words had hurt both her and Tara, Willow was quite desperate for some kind of reconciliation, and was more than prepared to make the first move. "I…I just wanted to say sorry…"

"No." Kennedy croaked through his dry throat and stumbled forward the grasp Willow's hand between her own. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I was just drunk. I wasn't thinking." She sighed and stepped closer towards Willow, lifting her eyes to meet green sympathetically. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you."

Willow breathed out the breath she was holding and curved the side of her mouth into a smile as she nodded. "You wouldn't believe." She smiled. "You're really okay with this?"

Kennedy grinned. "Of course. And I'm gonna help you through it." Her right hand traveled up to Willow's upper arm and rubbed it through the hacker's shirt. "Once we've figured out what's going on she'll probably leave, anyway. And then we can get back on with our lives." Her eyes shone with serenity and the promise. She truly believed she was making Willow feel better, until she saw the witch's reaction.

Willow's momentary reassured smile had dissipated immediately when Kennedy began the ascent up her arm, and a frown creased her forehead. "What?" Willow's nose scrunched up in confusion, and she silently begged that Kennedy was saying something different than what she thought. "Who'll probably leave?"

"Tara." The younger girl spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Gauging Willow's response, she explained. "Well, she wont want to hand around you and me. She's obviously still in love with you and wont be able to handle seeing us together. Which is why we should probably leave off touching until after this is all over with. Except in private of course." The glint in Kennedy's eye proved every word she'd just said.

'Oh God.' Willow could not imagine any other way this could have gone worse. Suddenly, she thought that maybe the room was haunted, giving Kennedy these wrong impressions, like a conspiracy against them having any kind of happiness. She gently drew the girl's hand from her arm and back into her hands. Finding that she didn't have the courage to look the slayer in the eyes, she studied the hands that were holding Kennedy's and found her voice. "Kennedy…" She smiled slightly and ruefully, as if she were a teacher explaining to a five year old that there is no Santa Claus. "Tara's going no where. After this is all over with…I'm hoping me and Tara will get back together."

All the color from Kennedy's face drained. She felt dizzy and sick; and none of it was the result of last night's drinking. "What?" She gasped out. Her voice was hollow; devoid of her soul.

Willow gulped and breathed in a full lung of air through her nose, before finally lifted her eyes to Kennedy's and diving in. "I don't love you. I love Tara." Her voice wasn't gentle, nor was it cold. She just stated the words as the straight facts they were. "I'm breaking up with you."

In such a situation one might expect heartbeats to increase under the intensity. However, Willow's final statement seemed to make everything in the air freeze. The moment was endless and miniscule. Not a single heartbeat was heard during it. Yet the moment dragged on for all time, emotionless and hopeless, like watching as a crystal glass falls to the hard concrete floor, always falling, waiting an eternity for the inevitable break…

"BITCH!" And with that, it was broken. Kennedy's one vehement cry shattered the perfect, delicate silence and the hearts began to beat once more, racing as if to make up for lost time. The slayer pushed passed Willow and stumbled out of the door into the hallway. She marched several feet down the hallway before Willow had caught up and spun her back around to face her. "Get away from me." She literally spat a little through her clenched teeth, such was the force of her words. "I'm gonna kill her!" She tried once again to escape from Willow's grasp, but the redhead was still holding onto her arm.

"Kennedy, calm down!" Willow practically screamed at the girl. More than anything else she was afraid Kennedy would try to do something to Tara. "This isn't about her." She once again swung the smaller girl around to meet her eyes, desperately begging Kennedy with them to leave Tara out of it. Neither girl noticed, but behind them stood Buffy and Faith, having heard Kennedy's scream. They were both more than prepared to step in should the need arise.

"Oh, right!" She scoffed, slightly laughing at Willow's words. "Like shit it, aint." She pushed her face towards Willow's aggressive, speaking her words through her teeth in a threatening manner that extended beyond the boundaries her height held for being threatening. "You said no to me because your dead playmate's back."

"I said no to you because I don't love you!" Willow screamed, with all her apprehension gone with the slayer's insulting words. She never blinked once, keeping her hard stare on the hazel eyes before her. She feared if she did, Kennedy would be gone; running off to attack Tara. She took in another lungful of breath before expelling, and then repeated the process several times to cool herself. Once she felt calm(er) enough, she spoke with hushed volume, though with none of the gentleness the redhead usually had. "I was going to split up with you before Tara. She's not to blame."

Kennedy was unflinching as the words passed through the hacker's teeth, as though she hadn't even heard them. But she had; she heard them, and then her brain played them over and over, telling her what to feel and how to respond. "I don't believe you." She finally drew back, but kept her eyes on the green of Willow's. "And tell that bitch she better keep that fat ass away from me."

Before Willow could respond to her instinct to slap the girl's face, Kennedy was down the hall. She could feel the anger bubbling up inside her in a way it seldom did. She took another few well orchestrated cooling breaths before following after Kennedy. She had no intention of confronting the slayer in any way, but she just wanted to keep her eye on her to make sure she didn't touch Tara.

Once Willow had turned the corner of the hallway out of sight, Buffy turned to Faith. Neither had been seen by the girls. "Wow. That wasn't the wake-up call I was expecting."

Faith nodded as she strolled slowly toward where Willow went, with Buffy beside her. "I'm pretty sure I got deja-vu of morning with my parents."

Buffy furrowed her brow and stopped walking, which in turn brought Faith to a stand-still. Though neither really noticed, they were almost exactly where Willow and Kennedy were fighting only a minute ago. "See who's point."

"Kennedy's." Faith's talk with the slayer yesterday had given her sympathy for the youngster; Kennedy was like herself in many ways. "Willow and Tara just expect her to give up on Willow just because the blonde's back, even though it's Kennedy who's been going out with her for two and a half years. I mean, Christ, Willow knows Kennedy better than Tara anyway." She shrugged.

Buffy pierced Faith with her glare. "Willow has known Kennedy for longer than Tara, not better. Willow and Tara know each other like I doubt anyone else ever will." Buffy corrected. "And neither Tara nor Willow planned this. It just happened, and you can't expect them to give up their second chance to be with the love of their life."

Faith scoffed. "Oh right, love of their life." Faith had long since stopped believing in such things. Wood's death only finalized her beliefs. "Yeah, we're all gonna find the love of our lives. And then we might go find some gold at the end of a rainbow." She smirked at her own sarcastic comments. "Face it, B, at the of the day it's who's the best ride. And out of Kennedy and the blonde…well, slayer stamina counts for a lot, we both know that." She shrugged and grinned. The grin was wiped from her face however when she looked back at Buffy and saw the blonde's intense stare.

"Faith, listen to me. You don't know Willow and Tara like the rest of us, so don't make comments on things that you don't understand." Buffy growled dangerously. She felt oddly protective over Willow and Tara's relationship; to her it encapsulated the idea of a second chance. If they couldn't have their second chance, no one could.

Buffy's warning hit Faith like a blow to the chest. "Well maybe I don't want to know!" She spat out. The feeling of isolation from the rest of the gang was the feeling she always had, and it always made her feel angry. "And maybe you need someone who doesn't, anyway."

The lines that creased Buffy's forehead shifted from angry lines to confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on!" Faith lifted her hands up and gestured to the atmosphere around them. "Look around. There's some big evil and little Blondie's just shown up. Isn't that a bit of a coincidence?"

"Your saying Tara's evil?" Buffy spoke it with more bemusement than actual anger. The very idea of the angelic blonde being evil was quite funny.

"I'm saying if evil guy is linked to Red and her sweetie, maybe it's one of them that needs killing to stop this thing. And as I don't think anyone in this hotel would want it to be Will…"

"Stop right there!" Buffy had heard enough and her eyes were flashing dangerously. It was one thing to kill the love of her own life to save the world. Doing it to her best friend would cost them not only Tara but Willow too. And Buffy knew that killing her would probably do some serious damage to her own mind too. "I'm not killing Tara. I'm not killing anyone."

Faith sighed and clenched her fists to push out the frustration from her body. "Well if it's for the sake of the world, it's lucky there's me and Kennedy here. If you can't do it then we…"

"What?!" Buffy challenged, her voice cold and sharp. "Kill her? My God, Faith, is that your solution to everything?"

Faith stood there staring at Buffy for a second, watching her own intense face in Buffy's hazel irises. When Buffy refused to waver, Faith turned and stormed off in the same direction that Willow and Tara went. Buffy, feeling the need to cool down, went into the bathroom right next to her.

What none of them knew was that, ever since Kennedy first screamed in her room, Tara had been around the corner, listening to every harsh word that crossed their lips. She had been alerted by the shout, and rushed down. But, noticing, from behind Buffy and Faith, that Kennedy was having a fight with Willow, she hid her presence, but couldn't stop herself from listening. With every word that passed she wished she had. Everything Kennedy and Faith said shook at Tara's core. By the time everyone else had left, Tara was slouched against the wall, trying desperately to keep the sobs that racked her body under control so she could make it back to her room. Even though it seemed both Willow and Buffy were extremely dedicated to keeping Tara safe and well, the witch couldn't help but feel like the whole world hated her. It was a feeling she didn't like, and not just for obvious reasons; the last time she felt it so intensely was when her mother had died, and she was bullied at school. However, school used to seem like a luxury compared to her brother and father's physical and mental abuse.

The memories only served to pull Tara's mood down further, and push the tears higher. Fearful someone might come along, she half staggered, half crawled back up to her room.

"I've heard a lot of wishes you granted involved crushing men into a fine paste." With a casual glance downwards, Hundi had Anya crushed against the floor by unseen forces. It wouldn't actually crush her, or damage her body, but it caused her tremendous pain.

"I'm afraid to say that my powers limit me to only having it feel like your bones are breaking and your organs exploding. Of course, there is the bonus that we can keep this up for hours without you dying."

Anya's voice was little more than a grunt. "Please…" Death was what she wanted more than anything else in the world. Feeling such pain made her silently beg for forgiveness for having inflicting such suffering to every man (and occasional woman) she'd ever hurt. Hundi was torturing Anya like never before, such was the importance of her assignment.

Hundi knelt beside Anya and leaned over to whisper in her ear. "And hours it will be." His voice was like mist gently floating into the demon's ear, belying who it belonged to. "And hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and…"

Anya physically jerked. It was a reaction both at the sudden sound of Hundi, who'd been right next to her ear, being hit in the head with a baseball bat, and being free of Hundi's powers. She gasped in gulps that threatened to suck in not only the air but also Hundi's desk. As the oxygen worked it's magic on her, her vision begun to focus, and where there were once two images there was only one again. With her new (50%) sight, she let her eyes wander up the denim jeans straight ahead of her, and she was able to recognize who it was just by the crotch!

"Anya? You okay?" Xander's voice was full of concern. He had absolutely no idea what Hundi was doing to her, but he was more than prepared to kill him all the same, once he'd found out if Anya was okay.

"Xander?" The sudden jerking of her head upwards to see the carpenter fully was a mistake, and she dropped slightly as soon as she made it.

"Whoa!" Xander was right by her side in no time at all. He was soon joined by another at her other side, and together they pulled her up to her feet. Still feeling woozy (out of pain rather than anything physical, as Hundi's magic prevented physical damage), she allowed herself to lean against the strong frame of the other man that was holding her up. She would've rather it were Xander, or course, but she wanted to actually speak to Xander and see him as she did. Leaning on him didn't allow her such a luxury.

"What are you doing here?" Anya's voice still had evidence of weariness, but her concern for Xander was waking her up just fine. "You could get killed!"

"That's what I said." Anya recognized the voice of the man that was holding her as the black man she saw with Xander yesterday. "Guy wouldn't take no for an answer. Wouldn't even ask Angel or any of those slayers to help us out."

"I couldn't." Xander reminded Gunn, then softened his gaze to look into Anya's eyes. "I needed to do something. You need rescuing, and I wasn't prepared to have everyone know."

"I have to." Xander stressed, looking intensely into her eyes. "I'm not going to leave you. I never want to leave."

Anya suppressed the urge to allow tears to escape her eyes; now was not the time. "How's Willow and Tara?"

"Good. Thanks to you." Xander showed her a small, but very proud smile, one that Anya wholeheartedly returned. Knowing that she'd done something right made all the pain she'd endured worth it.

The thought of the pain diminished her smile. Xander could've been killed infiltrating Wolfram and Hart, and she had no doubt the only reason he'd survived as long as he had was Gunn, whom she knew from files was a close ally of Angel's. There was still every chance they would still die. "Xander…thank you. But you can't…"

"I will." Xander wasn't going to allow Anya to finish that sentence. "I'll find a way. It's a blood oath, right? What if it's broken?"

"You can't break a blood oath, Xander." She rolled her eyes and spoke as if it was obvious. "The only thing you can do is to kill one of the ones who made it in the first place. And no one can kill D'Hoffryn."

"Then the other guy. The guy he made a deal with, at Wolfram and Hart. He must be here. Let me kill him." Xander spoke with utter seriousness and determination.

For almost ten seconds the room was completely silent, before Anya burst into hysterics. Xander and Gunn looked between each other in confusion as the demon staggered away from Gunn to catch her breath. However, it was almost a full minute before she could even make an attempt at speaking.

Xander was quite hurt by the girl's reaction. Sure, he wasn't superman, but it still bruised his ego. "What's wrong with that?"

"Oh." Xander's shoulders slumped and he suddenly understood what was so funny (to Anya's sense of humor, anyway). His bruised ego healed, but it gave him a sense of dread.

"Hey!" Gunn took it upon himself to appear manly and hurt at the thought that they couldn't tackle just one demon. She stood beside Xander and squared his shoulders, as if Anya was a drill sergeant ready to be saluted. "We're pro demon hunters here. We can take on one little demon."

"How big is it?" Xander had barely acknowledge Gunn's movements, but he had heard his words. He seriously hoped it was a little demon. Hopefully a cousin of the fear demon.

Anya gulped and looked at Xander glumly. "No one really knows. Except the Wolfram and Hart big wigs. Demons have tried, though. Big, toothy demons. But no one's ever broken one of their blood oaths before."

"What?" Both Anya and Gunn darted their eyes to the boy and studied him like he was green and had horns coming out of his head. Of course, Gunn would be used to such a sight, anyway.

"I want to fight it." Xander stared intently into Anya's eyes and spoke unflinchingly. His mind was made up.

"Xander, no." She once again felt tears in her eyes. Not only at what she feared might happen to Xander, but also at how much Xander was prepared to lay down his own life to free her. "You'll die."

"But at least I'll go on." He continued staring into Anya's eyes, pleading her to allow him this one gesture. "Please."

Anya didn't try to stop the tears and more. They weren't uncontrollable sobs; just a gentle drop cascading down. "I don't want you to die."

A brief smile brushed onto Xander's lips. "Now you know how I felt." He too was fighting the urge to collapse and cling onto his love, allowing the tears to come. Part of that fighting meant a quivering bottom lip. "You deserve to be able to go on. And I deserve to know you're happy."

Anya closed her eyes in contemplation for a moment, swallowing a fresh batch of tears. Now was the time to be strong.

Neither Willow nor Buffy spoke to Faith or Kennedy for the rest of the day. Tara had stayed upstairs for the whole day, much to distress of the hacker. Every time she went upstairs to check the blonde, Tara had feigned normality. However, Willow saw through it, but couldn't bring herself to confront Tara on how she was feeling. They were going slow, and Willow didn't want to be seen as pressurizing Tara. The redhead didn't know the Wicca had overheard Willow's conversation with Kennedy, and also didn't know that Faith shared the slayer's view.

Willow, Buffy and Giles were now in the lobby. Giles was taking a break from the Tome, having studied it all day and night. Once he'd noticed the sun was going down, he'd finally realized how long he'd been at it.

"I can't believe how excited she is just at this one little drink." Buffy smirked as she studied the carton of Sunny Delight. "Despite anything else, it tastes decidedly icky."

Willow shrugged. "Well yeah, there is an ick factor. But look at the name." She pointed excitedly.

"Yes, Will, I saw it. Now, if you showed me a drink that actually called Sunnydale, then I may be impressed. Maybe to the degree that I'd actually go, 'huh'."

"It's lucky I didn't take her down Willow Park street." Yawned Giles as he brought his coffee to his mouth.

"There's a Willow Park? In Colchester? And you didn't take me?" Willow was shocked, excited and appalled that Giles hadn't taken her to Willow Park. "Well, that does it. Next time you go to England, me and Tara are coming with and you are gonna show us Willow Park." She pointed and scowled at the watcher, who was currently watching her, frozen to the spot with his coffee just below his lips.

"Will," Buffy giggled as she noticed Giles' dumbfounded expression. "There's probably like a million Willow Parks on this side of the ocean."

"Yeah, but that's a whole other country." Willow argued, gesturing wildly with her hands like a child. "It's a whole other culture embracing Willow-ness."

"Yes." Giles cleared his throat. "Every fourth of July, while you lot are celebrating independence, us British have a wonderful parade down Willow Park, where we all put on red wigs, get on our laptops and become lesbians for the day in honor." Giles studied the shocked expressions of the two girls and looked down ashamedly into his coffee. "Sarcasm doesn't bode so well with me, does it?"

Fortunately for him, Giles' uncomfortable silence was broken suddenly and viciously by the harsh sound of something smashing through the one of the windows above the stairs. The strange object bounced down the steps before rolling to a stop on the floors.

"Rona, check outside." Buffy instructed to the girl closest to the door as she ran towards the strange object at her feet. Hesitantly, she brought her hand down and touched it. The portion she saw was covered in hair. She had a hunch what it was. Carefully, she picked the object up by the hair and lifted it up to eye level. She blanched when she saw what it was. "Oh, God…"

A human head. He had longish hair and only looked Dawn's age. No blood came from it; it looked like it'd been severed from it's body at least a couple of days ago.

Willow and Giles came up behind Buffy, and both had the same reaction Buffy had. Although she herself had been the cause of a worse sight, Willow found she had to look away. "Do you know who this is, Buffy?" Giles asked, searching his own memory for the boy's face.

"No." Buffy shook her head dumbly, her eyes unwilling to leave the poor boy's head.

As Angel entered the lobby via his office, so too did Rona return from a quick look around outside. "There's no one there."

"What's wrong?" Angel made his way towards Buffy, his eyes focused on the head in Buffy's hands.

"Something threw a head through the window." Buffy responded, not noticing Angel's shocked, traumatized expression. "I don't know who he is, but…"

"Oh God…" Angel didn't have a clue how he kept from throwing up. The boy's face was one he would never forget. He never loved anyone more than that boy…and he never really knew.

"Angel!" Buffy's call out to him was useless; he was already long gone. She saw a glimpse of Angel before he was out the door, and she knew the expression and what it meant. Anything that tried to cross him would be dead in a manner of seconds.

It took a full thirty minutes for Anya to get them to the elevator. Wolfram and Hart had the best security system of any non-government facility on the globe, and Gunn was certainly known to them. But luckily, both Anya's and Gunn's insider knowledge got them across the floor they were on to the elevator with minimal hassle.

"So, what floor is it?" Xander asked, looking at all the buttons and having absolutely no idea which to press.

"Wait a minute!" Gunn spoke out. "Do you mean just top? Or do you mean top-top?"

"The lighting on the top-top floor might be intense for some people. Say, if they've got eyes!"

Anya pushed past Xander and pressed the numbered buttons in a particular pattern. "Well, I guess that means it'll only be half as intense for me." Xander tried to joke, but the end wandered off when he noticed a white button appear on the panel as if from no where.

"Oh, no!" Gunn backed up, shaking his head. "No, no. Let me off, right now. No one said anything about hanging out in the local freaky room."

"Oath?" Xander wasn't understanding much of any of this, and was beginning to feel very much like an outsider. Suddenly, the elevator jerked, and began shooting up tremendously fast. "Okay, what's going on? And please let it not include fried grilled Xander?" Xander held himself tightly against the wall, nervous at the speed they seemed to be going.

"It's not super quick lifts you wanna be scared of." Gunn gulped as he kept his eyes firmly fixated on the doors. "It's what's on the other side of those doors."

"What?" Xander gasped. He looked desperately at Anya. "Anya, what's going on? And who's…"

"…Oath." Xander finished his question as his eye adjusted to the obscene brightness of the room. As it did, things didn't become much clearer, anyway. The room looked as if it went on for all eternity. What's more, straight in front of him stood Anya. However, as he turned his head to his side to confirm that Gunn was still by his side, he also noticed Anya-again!

"Huh?" Xander wanted to look at Anya for help on what might be going on, but he didn't know which one to look at!

"You're Oath?" The Anya beside Xander asked with as much shock in her voice as the carpenter.

"Oaths take the form of the soul they buy." Oath shrugged. "To save the soul you have to kill the Oath that has taken the form of that soul."

"I have to kill you?!" Xander asked, wide-eyed. Although he was quite competent he could win, it would make him feel a hell of a lot worse. He span his head at Anya. "You said big demons have tried and it killed them!"

"It did!" Anya assured him. "I didn't lie. You know me, when I lie it's all obvious and stupid!"

Gunn, deciding to save Xander from a terrible chore, decided to take it up on himself to do it for him. "I disagree." He shrugged as he took a step towards Oath. To his annoyance, it didn't even flinch at his attempt at being threatening, but he didn't allow it to show. "Now, normally, I don't hit demon blood oath things that buy souls and take the form of women. But for today…" He made a swing for Oath. As soon as his fist connected with it's face, Gunn fell backwards onto the floor, holding his bloody nose. Oath wasn't affected in anyway. "Now, that ain't right."

"Not just anyone can attack me." Oath revealed. "Anything that you try to do to me will just affect you. That's how the demons died when they attacked. Stupid little critters."

"Might of mentioned that before." Gunn winced as he cradled his bloody nose. "Damn, I've got a brutal right-hook." He mumbled to himself.

"Only those who truly own the soul can attack me." Oath smiled, bringing it's eyes over to Xander.

"Truly owns the soul?" Xander questioned, unnerved by Oath's strange interest in him.

"Wolfram and Hart do." Anya reminded it. "You know, for a thing that's me, you're not so bright, are you?"

Ignoring Anya's second comment, the Oath explained. "Wolfram and Hart bought your soul, for it to be theirs after death. But someone already owns your soul before they ever did. Love transcends mere death."

Xander gulped as he realized what it's words mean. "Me." Oath nodded, smiling. "I have to kill you." He didn't know if he had the strength in him to kill the woman he loved.

Xander's face was pale. He looked over at Anya, who for once was keeping her mouth shut. "And what about then?" He swallowed, looking at the real Anya while speaking to Oath.

Xander scrunched his eye closed. He knew that would be the answer, but he had just a glimmer of hope in his heart that things could be different. When he opened it again, he saw Anya staring back at him, the image slightly blurred by the tears that marred his eye. With great reluctance he pulled his gaze away from her and grabbed the axe by his side, which he'd taken with him.

Leaning on the balls of his feet, he swung the axe back and focused on Oath; his target. He held the axe tight, telling himself to swing it and get it over with. But seeing Oath's face, the face that was identical to his love's in every way, he knew he couldn't do it. Dropping the axe back down to his side, he span around and dropped his forehead to Anya's. As he allowed the tears to run freely down his cheek, he lifted the hand that wasn't still holding the axe and caressed her cheek.

"Xander…" Anya didn't know what else to say. Her throat was constricted, and she relished in being so close to Xander after so long.

Leaning forward, Xander pressed his lips onto Anya's and kissed her gently and lovingly. Unlike last night, this kiss was not rushed, and was full of compassion. In that kiss they told each other exactly how they felt.

Xander eventually broke from the kiss and rested his forehead back on Anya's, as if it belonged there; there was a negative magnet in Anya's head, and his held the positive. He looked back into Anya's eyes and the words came out as naturally as breathing. "I love you."

Anya's face contorted, not knowing what expression to make, before settling on one of sheer happiness. "I love you too."

With her smell in his nose and her taste in his mouth, Xander closed his eye and swallowed up his courage. Now was the time, and if he thought about it, it wouldn't happen.

In less than a second, Xander gripped the axe tight and swung around 360 degrees. The axe swung smoothly through the air and through the Oath's body.

When he stopped, he staggered slightly to regain his balance before looking around. Where there had once been two Anya's, there were now none. Only Gunn and Xander remained.

Gunn hesitantly walked up to Xander, not quite believing he'd done what he'd done. "You okay, man?"

Any answer of Xander's was cut off as their vision exploded in light and they were expelled from the white room.

When the day passed it's twentieth hour, Willow saw it as a signal to go and check on Tara. She couldn't stand lounging around the lobby, keeping an eye on Kennedy while at the same time trying to ignore her and helping Giles out with the Tome. She also couldn't stop her right foot, the leg of which was crossed over her left and hovering over the floor, from twitching nervously and she knew everyone had noticed and were just not saying anything. Or maybe they were waiting until she was out of the room to laugh at her…? Or maybe she was just a little paranoid?

As well as it giving her foot something to do other than twitch, she was quite certain that once she'd seen Tara, hopefully she'd be less anxious and it wouldn't twitch at all. On the other hand, it could make it even worse.

The knock Willow performed on the door was so soft it might as well of been made out of sponge. She noticed as each visit to check how Tara was turned out worse than she hoped, the gentler she knocked on the door the next time, like she was afraid loud noises would completely break the blonde.

Her voice came floating through the door after what seemed like a lifetime of contemplation for the redhead. "Come in."

She swallowed, not knowing whether to actually go through with what she was here to do, or to run away; take the cowards' way out. Her minds' eye drew a road in front of her, which splits into two. On the right is the cowards' road. Here she saw herself, black-eyed, with lethe's bramble in her hand and Tara rambling beside her, devoid of any coherence as it had been after Glory. On the left she saw herself shaking and sweating, suffering the repercussions of magic. It was a long road, but at the end there she was. Tara, standing proud and smiling sweetly and lovingly. Her mind was made up; she was going left.

Tara was only half surprised to find that it was Willow who'd entered. After all, it was only Willow who'd come up to see her, except for once when Buffy checked on her. Every time, Tara had told her she didn't have to knock. Every time she did.

Willow studied the girl. She was curled up on the sofa, and her eyes looked red and wet. That Tara had been crying was easy to see. What she'd been crying about was not see easy. "Tara, what's wrong?" The second she realized she had been crying, Willow rushed forward to sit on the sofa next to her, forgetting that the door was still wide open.

"Nothing." She shook her head furiously yet briefly, making her long hair flick about.

Tara tried to perform the half-smile she knows always melts Willow's heart, but couldn't quite bring herself to. "I'm fine, really."

"Tara, I waited three years to hear your voice again." Her voice wavered as she spoke the words of facts still hurtful. "I don't want it full of lies."

Tara glanced to the redhead on her left and regarded her desperate eyes. She knew she couldn't give that beautiful girl anymore lies. "I heard. I heard what Kennedy said…in the hall." She looked down at herself, ashamed at Kennedy's words.

"No, she isn't." Willow wanted to wrap her arms around the blonde. Kennedy's vicious words had angered her, but she knew Tara was incapable of rage. Only of hurt. "Kennedy was just upset and angry, she didn't mean…"

"But she did" Tara interrupted. She didn't tell Willow that Faith had agreed. She didn't want tension between the two, not when there were bigger things at stake. "She's better than me, Willow. She's beautiful and…"

"You're saying you're not?!" Willow blurted out. She knew Tara had trouble with self-confidence, but deluding herself into thinking she was anything short of breathtaking was just taking the biscuit. "God, Tara, haven't you looked in the mirror since you've been back? Have you just forgotten how beautiful you are?"

"She's sexy." Tara accentuated the last word, telling Willow she definitely didn't feel that way about herself.

Tara's head shot up, startled at the sudden question. "Of course not. Not except…except you." She blushed a light pink, even though she expected Tara to know that anyway.

"Then you've got nothing to worry about. Because you're a sex goddess." The right side of Willow's mouth curled up into a smirk. "If it were a choice between you and her-or anyone in the whole world-it'd be you every time, baby. You know that."

Tara nodded. Even if she doubted everything else in this world, she could never doubt Willow's love for her, or her own love for Willow. "I do." Willow gathered her in her arms, and tears sprung from the blonde's sea blue eyes. "I feel wrong. I…I shouldn't be here." Tara stuttered as she sobbed into the fiery red hair pressed into her nose, smelling like sweet peaches. "I'm not supposed to. And now…now something is coming…and it might be my fault. And I don't want to go again. I felt how much I missed you and…and I don't want to leave you again. But I'm scared that to stop it, I might…I might have to…"

"NO!" Willow pulled back sharply and looked Tara dead in the eyes. She had to clench her fists in an effort to restrain herself from intervening earlier, but she wouldn't allow herself for Tara to think such things. "You…you wont."

"Then we'll keep looking." Willow's lip quivered and her eyes were bloodshot, but still she managed to maintain her resolve face. "Because I wont leave you. Never again."

Willow pulled Tara back into the embrace, holding her tighter and with more urgency than before, and sobbing back in response to Tara's cries. "Never again, never again…" She repeated it over and over into Tara's long blonde hair, mimicking Tara's own cries earlier on. But no matter how many times Willow said it, no matter how much she knew Willow herself believed them, she couldn't help but keep her doubts.

From the open door, which neither Tara nor Willow ever looked towards, Kennedy stood. Each word of love and devotion tore into her deeper than any dagger. She could see in Willow's demeanor, how she'd avoided Kennedy downstairs, that the hacker really was upset with her. But it wasn't until now that Kennedy realized to what degree. Each tear that fell from Willow's eyes contained equal parts love for the blonde and pain of Kennedy's vile obscenities, and the slayer knew that. However, she also knew the why it was that Willow had suddenly started to turn from her. Tara. The blonde witch was the route of Kennedy's problems, and every time a sob emerged from Willow's throat, so too did Kennedy's soul grow a little more in hatred…

Fortunately for Buffy (and unfortunately for them) tracking Angel proved to be a simple case of following the trail of beaten demon bodies. The brutality used by the vampire was shocking to Buffy. Every one of the demons Buffy spoke to told her that Angel had been trying to find out about the new bad guy. They all seemed to be quite gentle, informing demons that had nothing to inform. It seemed Angel didn't seem to accept the lack of answers. She was eventually led to a multi-storey car park.

The sounds of Angel beating up the demon could be heard from over the other side of the street. By the screeches the demon was making, Buffy doubted if it could speak even if Angel did give it a chance. When she actually set eyes on the demon she was even more surprised. It was yellow skinned and skinnier than Calista Flockhart, with no visible means of defense or attack. With Angel slamming it against the side of the car by the demon's 'Dungeons and Dragons' T-shirt, it looked like some kind of demonic version of a school bully after the geek's dinner money.

Buffy ran up to the vampire and tried in vain to pull him from the demon. "Angel, stop it. He's helpless."

Angel shrugged the lecherous slayer from his arm and slammed the demon back into the car, shattering the side window. "Tell me or I rip your face off!" Growled the vampire.

"She's…she's right. I don't know anything, I swear." The small demon pleaded, his high, squeaky voice feeling like a pin piercing her ear drum. It only added to the pre-pubescent teen visage.

Angel continued to stare at the demon, watching him for any sign of deception. When he saw none, he flung the demon behind himself, not watching as the demon scampered away, whimpering as he went. Angel waited until the demon's footsteps could no longer be heard, even by vampire and slayer ears, before saying anything. "Buffy, go home." He marched away from the slayer, not glancing back at her, just as he hadn't the demon.

"And let you pound on more demons? Gee, relishing in the not-gonna-happen-ness." Buffy followed him at a steady pace.

"We have nothing to go on, something is bringing about the end of days and I decided to find something out. Besides, last time I checked, demons weren't exactly on our don't hurt under any circumstances list." Angel sarcastically remarked .

"Yeah, but we don't beat the crap out of them when they don't know anything." Buffy followed him at the same pace for another few moments, but eventually just sped up and stepped in front of him, hindering his progress. "Angel, tell me what's going on."

"Buffy, get our of my way." The warning growl in Angel's voice was something Buffy had seldom heard since the dark days of Angelus.

"This has nothing to do with you." Angel dismissed as he moved to pass straight by her.

"Angel, wait!" Grabbing his arm to stop him was a maneuver she regretted when he responded to the sudden action by back-handing her swiftly across her face. As an uncontrollable reaction, Buffy punched him back in the face. Angel would've retaliated, but Buffy had grasped both his wrists. "Angel, tell me. Now."

"Tell me what's wrong." Buffy pleaded. Angel looked away, trying to escape her eyes, which searching his soul for the answers. "Please."

He turned back at the tears in her eyes, and couldn't help the sub sequential spillage of his own. "It wasn't supposed…he shouldn't have been hurt."

Buffy recognized what it was Angel was feeling. It was grief, but not just for some unknown victim. It was someone extremely close to Angel's heart. "Who is he?" Buffy waited as he struggled with the turbulent emotions inside himself. While he did, her own memory came back to the name he spoke. "Who's Connor?"

Angel sucked in the deepest breath he could manage through his quivering lips in an attempt to keep a sob locked up in his body. "He was supposed to be safe…that's why…"

Buffy couldn't understand what he was talking about, but it felt like talking to a completely different person. "Angel?"

"Connor…he's my son…" Angel couldn't contain himself any longer, and collapsed into Buffy's arms, dragging them both down to the floor.

For over an hour they sat while Angel, through his tears, explained the story of what happened to Connor, and why no one even remembered he existed. Buffy could do nothing but try to soothe him as she cradled him in her arms. Angel crying, and being so completely vulnerable as he was being at this moment was something completely unprecedented and new to Buffy. The vampire's pain was deafening; it wrenched at Buffy's heart to see the man she still, and always would, love in such a state. But, as well as that, she felt closer to him than ever before. After years of being apart, she felt as if they were finally equals, and she was in a position to help him, whereas all the time she'd known him it'd be the other way around.

Although it pained Buffy that she could do no more than listen do his feelings, it made Angel feel a lot better. Not only had Angel hidden his vulnerable side to Buffy, he'd hidden it from everybody, including himself. He never allowed himself to unleash the feelings he was having, until now.

Eventually, Buffy received an urgent phone call on her mobile phone from Giles, asking her and Angel to return to the hotel. Buffy had been reluctant, but Angel had assured her he was fine. And while it wasn't completely true, and Connor's death had been one of the worst things he'd ever experienced, in another way he felt better than never before.

By the time Buffy and Angel returned back, Angel's eyes were void of any evidence he was ever crying in the first place. Everyone was gathered in the lounge with their attentions on Giles, who stood beside the counter where which the Tome laid upon. Xander and Gunn had returned from Wolfram and Hart, without any indication they'd gone at all. Willow and Tara had also returned from upstairs, and all the slayers who had made it to Los Angeles were there. Even Spike and Ethan had their attentions on the ex-watcher.

"I haven't deciphered it all, but what I do have is quite…crucial. I thought you'd all better be here." Giles spoke nervously. Crucial was not how to describe what he'd found, and he knew how easily Buffy could read him.

Giles gulped, before turning toward Willow and Tara. "I think we might know what happened."

The cosmos hung over the vast desert, leaving the sand lit dimly by the thousand twinkles and giant bright moon that loomed in the sky, guarding the land from unseen predators beyond the eyes of man. The icy air stung his dark, worn face, but everything besides this was perfect. The wind was non-existent; each grain of sand knew its place and never dared move. That gigantic moon, as well as caressing the darkness in a brilliant light gave him maximum mystical energy. The time was perfect.

He turned back to face the city of huts and tents he left behind. Not one of the G'lukhandi tribe were sleeping, of that he knew. They were always anxious when the moon showed itself in full, and the ritual had to be done. No one could join him in the ceremony, not even G'lakhi. As Hidani, the G'lukhandi tribe's head priest, it was up to him and he alone to perform the ritual of banishing that kept all demons from attacking the community. The job was as dangerous as it was sacred, but it would only endanger the entire tribe to not do it. His own life was a small price for the G'lukhandi, particularly G'lakhi. Their chief had given Hidani the job of head priest after the previous had died, and it was truly a great honour to be given such respect in the presence of such a man. G'lakhi was truly the greatest of all the G'lukhandi chiefs that ever lived.

With the sacred oath to his emperor in his mind, Hidani went about his work. He arranged the ingredients given to him by the shamans the way he always did. Every month the three shamans, the most powerful magic users in the tribe, went over the ingredients to be sure that Hidani had everything correct. They were much more powerful than Hidani himself, but they were not permitted to perform the ritual, that was the head priest's job. That was how it was and how it will always be.

Once everything was in place, he sat cross legged on the sand in the centre of the sacred circle, facing out to the tribe.

"Hmmmm, hidi dae mostru. A radianaba G'lukhandi.Residisika Aarbli. Residisika Madarla. Residisika Turok-"

The ritual was cut short at an ironic point. Just as he spoke the words to keep away the herd of Turok'na demons, who roamed only a short distance away from the G'lukhandi tribe, a green claw of a Turok'na took hold of Hidani and pulled him from the sacred circle before tearing him apart and drinking his blood; the Turok'na demons' natural food.

As his life was sucked from his body, Hidani felt himself dying in his shame. That he had died was something he was fine with. That he had died before the ritual was finished, he was not. The G'lukhandi tribe was now vulnerable, and no doubt Turok'na knew that. Once the demon had finished his meal, he would inform his clan of this fact, and the following night the Turok'na would no doubt tear the G'lukhandi tribe apart. Hidani could only prey that once they found his body, G'lakhi would order an attack on the Turok'na tribe, erasing the species from existence before it could do its damage.

Hidani had no way of knowing that when his prayer was answered and G'lakhi ordered the attack, it would herald the beginning of a story spanning thousands of years. A story of vampires, slayers, and Gods…

Buffy, noticing the gap in Giles' annotations, decided it was time to speak up. So far, he had the entire room on fishhooks, hanging intently on his every word, awaiting the answers he promised. But as he went on about some priest in an ancient tribe, Buffy found herself getting more and more frustrated.

"Giles, what happened to the answers? We wanted facts, not bedtime stories for monsters!"

"Quiet, it was just getting good." Spike protested to Buffy's interrupting, whom responded with a withering glare. "I, uh, I mean yeah. Where are those answers, watchy?"

Giles removed his glasses to shift his attentions from the Tome to the group. "Well, you see the thing about the Tome is that…watchy?" He frowned at Spike, just catching the vampire's choice of pet names. Shrugging it off, he returned to his exposition. "The thing about the Tome is that, as well as listing spells and general information of great importance, it will also document the stories behind them. When an event of tremendous significance occurs, the Tome records it."

"What do you mean 'records it'?" Fred asked, finding the whole thing quite intriguing.

"The Tome, as far as we know, has existed for all time. It is one of the only links the Gods have to the mortal world. It is used to guide warriors and sorcerers against entities of darkness. Whenever it is of importance, the Gods will add another chapter to the Tome, documenting the event for future generations. No doubt your defeat of the First and the destruction of Sunnydale is in here."

"Really? I'm in a book? Wow, how cool is that?" Buffy frowned and her excitement disappeared as she thought about what Giles was suggesting. "Wait, they can do that? Add more pages whenever they want?"

"They're Gods. They can do almost anything." Giles reminded. "Adding a couple of pages to a book they already own is quite simple."

"But why are you reading us this story? What's so important about some old tribe?" Asked Willow.

"Whenever a child of the G'lukhandi tribe was born that was destined to become chief, he would be named…" Giles replaced his glasses and bent back down to study the Tome. "…G'lakhi. The morning after the attack, several hunters from the tribe came across Hidani's body and told G'lakhi. Recognizing the attack to be from a Turok'na, a particularly vicious species of demon, G'lakhi ordered an attack on their nearby dwellings. It was the last of the Turok'na tribes, and G'lakhi had every intention of having the species extinct before nightfall; when the Turok'na would attack. It looked like they had succeeded. They destroyed every Turok'na they found by throwing them into sunlight; the Turok'na's natural enemy."

"Sunlight?" Angel asked for clarification. The Turok'na sounded as if they had more in common with him than it seemed.

Ignoring Angel's exasperation, Giles pushed forward. "Unfortunately, when night fell, G'lakhi realized he had been mistaken. A badly wounded Turok'na, one they thought they had killed, came into the tribe and took G'lakhi's consort, Nadeeri, back to…"

"What?" Giles asked, annoyed slightly at the interrupting, particularly considering who it was from.

The audience parted to reveal Ethan sitting against the pillar at the side of the stairs. "Her name was Nudeeri." He corrected.

"Nudeeri." Giles turned back to the Tome, storing the knowledge that Ethan knew more than he was letting on for later. "The Turok'na took Nudeeri from the tribe and carried her back to the cave where the G'lukhandi had slaughtered his brothers. The G'lukhandi weren't shy about their love; on the contrary, they were very proud to be in love. However, this also led them to do some rather…stupid things when their loved ones were in danger. G'lakhi was no different. When he found out his beloved Nudeeri had been taken, he travelled single-handedly to the cave after them."

With his short sword firmly in his grip, G'lakhi made his way through the caves. The stench of rotting bodies, both man and demon, was overwhelming. The only thing that was pushing him forward, through the wall of sickening odours, was his determination to keep this place from being the last thing Nudeeri saw. His partner was the most precious thing in his life, and he would gladly lay down his life for her welfare.

Although aided in his search by the torch that flickered in his left hand, the naturally formed caves were nothing less than a labyrinth. It was probably their size that kept this Turok'na alive. It could've easily hidden in a particularly dark corner and waiting until the warriors were gone to make its move. 'Well, it made the wrong move.' G'lakhi thought.

He could tell by the increasing number of corpses he had to avoid where he was. Earlier, when the tribe had invaded the caves, the fight was mostly restricted to a large area of the caves. He hoped it would be here that he would find the Turok'na. It would be much easier to fight it in an open area, even if it was littered with the dead bodies of brave warriors.

At the time of the battle, he noted it quite interesting that the Turok'na were actually quite a vulnerable race. Loss of blood, for example, would kill them, and that was the downfall for most the deceased demons that lined the caves. However, for some reason they would sometimes be reduced to dust. He noticed that this would happen depending on how they were dispatched; sunlight, being set on fire and decapitation always left the demon being turned into dust. Curiously enough, one soldier, when their torch had been extinguished, pierced a few of the Turok'na's chests with the wooden implement, and was shocked when they too disappeared in death. It seemed that, although swords would kill the Turok'na, only a weapon made out of wood would leave the demon transformed into dust in death. Right now, G'lakhi didn't really care how he dispatched of Nudeeri's captor, so long as this time it was truly dead.

Stepping into the large area, G'lakhi felt his breath catch in his throat. Even though he had seen the area littered in the bodies of the dead only hours before, seeing it after he had cleansed his mind of such thoughts of battle, death and destruction was quite a shock. The floor was literally covered in corpses. Wherever you saw the ground, the sand was red. The smell of copper was ripe in the air; it seemed the blood of the G'lakhi was much like a human's, both in appearance and smell. The worst thing about the area, however, was the large stone in the centre that jutted out of the sand. It too was red, however not stained like the sand. The blood on the stone was still rolling gently down the cold, hard rock, not having given the time to taint the grey of which it descended. On top of the stone lay Nudeeri on her back. Her limbs were dangling from the rock haphazardly, each one stained in her blood. Her neck was bleeding, having been punctured. Blood was also gushing from her abdomen, which had been severed severely. Her left thigh also had a tear running from her knee all the way up to her hip. Although it wasn't bleeding as profoundly as her torso, it was still a nasty wound, and it was doubtful she could handle the stress of walking without causing some serious pain one way or another.

She was barely moving, but the fact that she was moving at all was enough to keep G'lakhi from breaking down, and instead he ran straight to her side. "Nudeeri! Nudeeri, you're alive…oh thank the Gods…" He clutched her face between his large, pitch black hands and kissed her deeply. Unlike today's society, the G'lukhandi tribe saw the expression of emotions as a sign of strength, and not to be avoided. G'lakhi, therefore, had no reservations about crying over his adulation of finding Nudeeri alive.

Gauging her hideous wounds, G'lakhi went about trying to save her from any further harm. Carefully leaning the torch against the stone and returning his sword to its sheath, G'lakhi tore off the top part of his robes, with the intent of wrapping them around his consort and slowing her bleeding.

G'lakhi's loving kisses were enough to pull Nudeeri out of the abyss of unconsciousness, albeit barely. Her vision was very blurry, helped in no way by the dim light of the room. She wanted to smile at G'lakhi feverishly tearing off his garments, knowing he was doing it to save her life. Fighting to keep herself awake and strong, she tried to keep her eyes focused on G'lakhi's urgent, yet loving and caring face. She watched as he folded the cloth of his garments into what could be a formidable bandage. He looked up at her and smiled in assurance. As he did, her eyes wavered, noticing movement behind him. It was large, and creeping towards him slowly, become larger and larger to her perception with every second that passed. He was unaware of the strange shadow that was bearing down on him, but she couldn't allow her eyes to stray. She could feel the vibrations of its footsteps through the stone, and could only presume G'lakhi was too preoccupied in his frantic state. Eventually, the figure stepped out of the shadows-only a foot away from the oblivious G'lakhi-to reveal its hideous visage. It was green with razor sharp teeth and bones protruding from its head, following the shape of its skull down like solid hair. Its huge arms ended with hands the size of G'lakhi's head and claws equally as sharp as its teeth. It was the Turok'na.

He didn't even have time to see the beast before it clamped its massive claw over his face, pulling him to its chest. The demon's size meant G'lakhi's feet barely even touched the floor. As G'lakhi struggled against the monstrosity, kicking its legs with his heel and trying to pry the giant sized-hand from his face, Nudeeri gasped for breath, wearily fighting against her own pain in her eagerness to help her consort. Her body couldn't handle it at all, and she collapsed whenever she tried to lift herself up from the rock. Nonetheless, she refused to give up.

G'lakhi became even more determined when he saw Nudeeri struggling, knowing she was risking herself to try to help him. He would've screamed for her to stop struggling, if it weren't for the Turok'na's claw gripping his skull, squeezing his brain and cutting into the skin. Suddenly remembering his sword in his sheath, G'lakhi silently cursed himself for not reaching for it automatically when faced with danger, like he always would. He just wasn't thinking straight. Disregarding the thoughts for a time when they might actually be appropriate, G'lakhi's right hand left the demon's thick wrist and grabbed the handle of the sword. Unfortunately, just as before he pulled the sword out, the demon pushed itself a G'lakhi forward and face first into the ground, trapping G'lakhi's right arm and sword under the tremendous weight of himself and the Turok'na combined. With its prey right where it wanted it, the demon bared its teeth and buried them into G'lakhi's throat, sucking the blood as it poured from wound.

G'lakhi wanted to scream at the shearing pain of having the abomination tear into his neck, but all that came out was a gasp, the rest of the scream escaping out of the puncture and into the demon's mouth. With his face pressed securely into the sand and only his left hand free, G'lakhi flailed his hand around blindly in search of any weapon, but found only body parts. When he felt the demon sucking his life force from him, G'lakhi unconsciously gripped his hand into the head of hair that it was resting on, digging his fingers into to scalp of the brave warrior who had his head torn off by a particularly strong Turok'na.

His grip into the hair was loosening as the demon drank away his life. Everywhere in his body was numb, except from where the teeth of the demon were embedded into his neck. As the spark in his eyes threatened to flicker out, G'lakhi screwed his eyes shut and forced his fingers to clench around the hair of the fallen warrior's head. In a move fuelled by the miniscule remainder of oxygen left in her lungs, G'lakhi swung the head around, knocking it into the side of the Turok'na's head. The sensation of having the demon's teeth rip from his throat viciously was unlike any other, but he hadn't the time to dwell on it. Using his swinging left arm for momentum, G'lakhi rolled himself onto his back. The attack on the Turok'na was enough to knock it from his neck, but caused the demon no actually damage. However, it was enough. The Turok'na lunged back onto G'lakhi, but the chief was ready for it. Because he hadn't the energy to actually swing, G'lakhi just held the sword facing up, allowing the Turok'na, already in the middle of its lunge, to fall onto it. The sword pierced straight through the demon's throat and out the other end, coated in deep red blood. The demon flinched for only a second before collapsing completely onto G'lakhi.

The area, which had been transformed into a graveyard, fell silent. The dying breaths of the two beings that were still actually alive were so shallow that even the sharpest of ears wouldn't have been able to pick up even a whisper. Nudeeri had since stopped struggling to try to help G'lakhi, having realized it was hopeless. However, she still strained her neck to be able to see G'lakhi, not caring that the action only increased her bleeding.

Eventually, upon hearing Nudeeri wince, G'lakhi pushed the Turok'na off himself and took hold the sword, still sticking out of the demon's neck, to pull himself up onto his knees. His head was so heavy it felt as though it would drop to the floor, tearing itself from his body. However, he knew he had to get himself, and more importantly Nudeeri, back to the tribe. He kept hold onto the sword for support while shuffling his knees forward towards the rock and his dear, sweet Nudeeri. When close enough, he let go of the sword and collapsed onto the rock, his face mere inches from hers and his cheek resting against the cold, rough surface.

G'lakhi was silent for a long while. He swallowed, trying to find his voice as he caressed Nudeeri's hand with his thumb; a simple action that was costing him his entire energy reserve. "You will get back…we will get back. I can carry you…"

A tear emerged from G'lakhi's eye. He wanted to refuse that it was true, but he knew it was. He was dying, and so was she. "You won't die." With determination running through him, he lifted his head from the rock. His hands were planted securely on the surface supporting his weight, while his entire body shook. Despite this, he smiled slightly at her, pleased at his achievement. "I will carry you…and you will live…"

Nudeeri looked up at him, begging for some kind of hope in a situation she knew had none. "How…?"

For an eternity G'lakhi searched his mind for any kind of idea or hope of salvation where perhaps none exist. He prayed for it for himself, but more for Nudeeri, who he'd just promise he'd save. And then, like the sun rising over the horizon, his eyes brightened as a memory came to mind. From what the G'lukhandi tribe knew of their nearby predators, the Turok'na-which thanks to him were now extinct-were believed to have blood with regenerative qualities; they could survive even the most horrific blows, but not blood loss. It was the G'lukhandis' belief that their blood would rebuild any damage done, until the demon hadn't enough blood to go on. It was a slim chance, but it was all they had.

With a new goal to reach, G'lakhi began the longest journey of his life, from the rock to the demon he'd just slain two feet away. With just two shuffles towards it, he collapsed forward, grasping the sword in the Turok'na's neck to save himself from falling completely. With another few minutes to give himself enough strength, he lifted the sword completely from its neck. With his support gone, G'lakhi's collapse was inevitable. However, with the sword removed and himself at the demon's side, his journey was complete; he only had one more thing to do. With sluggish movements, he pulled himself up the demon's body, until he was up to the demon's neck. It was now or never. In one quick movement, he allowed himself to collapse completely, his lips firmly around the bleeding wound. Just as the demon had done to him, G'lakhi sucked as though his life depended on it-which it probably did. The taste was unmatched in its vulgarity, and with each swallow he knew he was only moments from death. But still, he drank. It was the last thing his mortal soul remembered, as even in his last breath he drank.

Eventually, G'lakhi's heart stopped, and his soul drifted from his body. She couldn't see it, but Nudeeri knew her love was dead by pure instinct alone. With everything in her life gone and meaningless, Nudeeri stopped fighting the inevitable, and just allowed herself to go limp…

"In a sense." Replied Giles, pushing himself away from the counter and the Tome. He sighed, looking up at Buffy. "G'lakhi awoke just before Nudeeri was dead."

"Awoke?" Buffy had a hard time believing he just 'awoke'. "Giles, these Turok'na, they wouldn't happen to have anything to do with…"

"Turok-han." Giles confirmed with a sad sigh. "G'lakhi was the very first vampire."

"The Turok'na is the demon inside every vampire." Wesley spoke up, turning to Angel. "When we were in Pylea, you remember you're human self was separated from your demon? When the demon emerged, I believe what we saw was…"

Wesley nodded grimly. "I believe it was the tie to your human self that kept the demon bursting into flames by the sunlight there."

"The difference between a Turok-han and an ordinary vampire appears to be how the Turok'na acts within the body. In a Turok-han it will push against the human body, trying to escape. This makes it ferociously powerful, but at the cost of their human mind. However, in an ordinary vampire, the Turok'na will work in harmony with the body, lending its power while staying deep within the human." Giles reported, having gone through a full five hours of studying the Tome before uncovering the fact.

"So the demon in England, that was a Turok-han?" Willow asked. "But with a Turok'na's head?"

"I believe that when I decapitated the corpse's head, the Turok'na had yet to be awakened. Finding that there was a missing part in the body it was occupying, it pushed its own head through." Giles nodded in confirmation. "Of course, for a regular vampire this wouldn't work, as, as I said before, the demon stays within the body, and hence wont push itself out in the same way."

"While I'm sure this is all fascinating for anyone that was listening, can we get back to the point?" Spike was getting frustrated with all the facts and theories that were being thrown around, none of which he really understood.

"What was G'lakhi? When he woke up?" Buffy asked, equally as impatient as Spike. "Turok-han or regular Joe vampire?"

"It's difficult to say." Giles rubbed his temple, leaning back towards the Tome. "While he kept his mortal face and mind, his power was unmatched. Also, when he sired, the person would be transformed into a Turok-han."

"What about Nudeeri?" Willow asked urgently. She didn't like the idea of these lovers not having a happy ending, even if one of them was now a deadly monster. "What did he do to her?"

"When he awoke, the first thing he did was turn Nudeeri." Giles sighed. It was a sad fact that vampires invariably either turn their mortal consorts, wanting to share the 'wonderful' experience, or just kill them, wanting to lash out on everything that made them human. "She started to transform into a Turok-han. G'lakhi, however, couldn't bear to see her as a hideous monster. So, with the G'lukhandi powers he naturally had, being the chief, he was able to calm the demon within her. It used up his powers, but that soon became less of a problem."

"Together, G'lakhi and Nudeeri terrorized the world. They created an army of the undead that only increased in size as they went on. Whenever G'lakhi sired he would make a Turok-han, however, whenever Nudeeri sired, she would create an ordinary vampire. Both lost the vulnerability to loss of blood carried by the Turok'na" Giles had to eye his notes carefully to be sure he was reporting the facts accurately. "Together they had an army of Turok-hans and vampires. G'lakhi had designs on becoming the most powerful being in the universe. He went to every magic user or link to a powerful entity there was and robbed them of their power. Soon, as well as keeping Nudeeri's demon calmed, G'lakhi had enough power to do almost anything. Sunlight and stakes were no longer a threat, and he could control any vampire that shared his blood. There are even reports of him being able to pierce through dimensional walls where the fabric was thin."

Where less than a year ago the G'lukhandi lived their lives freely, their bodies were now scattered across their former dwellings, lying face down in the river of blood that now ran through the valley. The Turok-hans splashed through the substance like dinosaurs, predatory in their movement as if the reputation hadn't already been gained. Some lapped at the red stream that flowed beside their ankles, although many of them weren't interested; they were already full.

Nudeeri's dark skin and clothes made her almost invisible against the night sky; it was only when she wore her demonic visage that she was noticeable at all, and that would only happen when she was about to feed. The reason was that she wanted to become invisible. It didn't stem from any kind of deep routed psychological complexity that meant she didn't want to be part of this reality, or that she lacked self-confidence; it was purely for hunting. She could sneak up on her victims, appearing as if from nowhere. As well as adding an air of mystery around herself, it also made her renowned for a reason other than being G'lakhi's consort-she was Nudeeri, the vampire that appears from nowhere!

From her position on the cliff, overlooking the Turok-hans, Nudeeri could count only seven G'lukhandi tribe members missing from the valley. The G'lukhandi tribe had been worried, not having heard from G'lakhi or Nudeeri for almost a year, while all the while they were busy living as immortals, walking a path with trembling strangers before them and death behind, creating an entirely new race of human/demon hybrids. When the word had come that the G'lukhandi were under a new chief-a new G'lakhi- Nudeeri and the Turok-hans left to take vengeance on the tribe, while the vampires assisted G'lakhi on a personal mission. They agreed to meet up in the valley. The new G'lakhi was not nearly as strong as her beloved, and wasn't able to kill a single Turok-han before he was torn apart.

Something caught Nudeeri's watchful eye in the valley. Near the cliff face, far away from any of the Turok-hans, an injured man was trying to make his way to safety, slowly as to not alert the monsters. He had succeeded, as they were no longer in that section of the valley, where only a few corpses lay. However, Nudeeri was not about to let anyone escape. With the grace of an eagle, Nudeeri dived into the valley, somersaulting to have her feet facing the floor for an equally graceful landing. So gentle was it that even though the man was pulling himself along the floor only thirty feet in front of her, he heard nothing. With her movement as fluid as the stream, Nudeeri crept up to him and pulled him up by the back of his neck before tossing him back against the cliff face. She walked towards him, seductively, swaying her hips and looking up at him through her eye lashes like the purist virgin awaiting her first. However, her eyes told a story of deaths, demons and horror well beyond realms of purity.

As Nudeeri walked closer to him, the man's eyes squinted as he tried to look through the veil of darkness that shrouded the mysterious figure. He knew who it was, though. She was the most beautiful of G'lakhundi women; it felt as if even the air thought itself unworthy to be in the same space as her, and parted before her as she moves. But still, it wasn't until he could clearly see that it was indeed her that he let himself believe it; it would give him hope that was perhaps false to believe that it was. When he saw that it was indeed Nudeeri, he felt his drumming heart fall silent for the first time since the Turok-hans attacked. If Nudeeri was here, that also meant that G'lakhi-the previous G'lakhi- would be close. If anyone could save them, he could. "Nudeeri…it is really you?"

"Is G'lakhi well?" He was urgent and hushed, but none still spoke with sufficient respect.

He was both crestfallen and ecstatic. While G'lakhi's survival was wondrous news, he doubted he would be able to get out alive, and it was his duty to do everything in his power for Nudeeri's well-being. "We need to leave the valley…demons are…"

The man didn't know what to say. He wanted desperately to be on the move, for he was sure that the monsters would notice them at any moment. "Our lives are in peril unless…"

"G'lakhi is meeting me here." Nudeeri's dangerous eyes now over shadowed the innocent image completely, leaving her looking utterly threatening. "We wont leave."

Her eyes glowed orange, illuminating the immediate atmosphere around them and her recently disfigured, demonic face. The man was too shocked to move, and Nudeeri swiftly took action before he did. She lunged forward and grasped his jaw in one hand with her thumb inside his mouth and pulled him towards her and her fangs.

With the damage the Turok-hans had already done to him, the man didn't last long. Nudeeri soon dropped his limp body and strolled onwards towards her army of demons, her thoughts drifting to her beloved G'lakhi on his mission.

The sorcerer was exhausted. The ritual itself took over twenty hours of excruciating pain and drained him of both his magical and physical strength. As well as that, it was something he'd been preparing for all his life. Decades of work, meditations and isolation had all been for this one ritual, and now it was done. The Key was in this dimension.

Since finding out of the Key's existence, the man had feared its power. Both his parents were potent individuals, and he was one of the most powerful mortals in the world. However, when he discovered that there was a mystical entity called the Key, he left his family and tribe to seek others who might know more about the elusive energy. He came across a group of individuals who were dedicated to the destruction of the Key. The tribe, Bzantia, described to him the nature of the Key. He was told how the Key drifts through dimensions without any physical form. Like this the Key holds no real danger. However, if a dangerous entity was to hold the Key captive in this dimension, they could do anything with its power. It would be possible to completely diminish the walls that separated realities and allow them to bleed into each other.

The Bzantia tribe, however, seemed much more concerned with an entity they called The Hollow. They told him The Hollow resides in the gap between dimensions, manipulating realities with its henchmen; 'the hooded corpse' and 'the whispering air'. They feared The Hollow would use The Key's power to create wave after wave of deadly demons capable of erasing this and every other reality in existence.

Such beings would be capable of trapping the Key in this or any other reality and harnessing its power for their own destructive means. It was the Bzantia tribe's goal to trap it in this dimension themselves. While this would leave it open to allow beasts to use it themselves, it was the only way the Bzantia tribe had to destroy the Key once and for all, eliminating any such threats. Unfortunately, trapping the Key in this dimension requires incredible strength, resilience and power, and that was something no Bzantia had. Until the sorcerer arrived.

The Bzantian elders had sensed the power within the man and trusted that, with the right amount of tutelage, he would be able to hold the Key, allowing them to destroy it. Despite the sacrifices involved, it hadn't taken long to convince the sorcerer to follow the Bzantia's instructions, understanding that the risks of not doing so were insurmountable. He secluded himself in a cave for over a decade, preparing himself and gathering his strength for the ritual. He saw no people since he set off for the journey, but he understood his duty and was prepared to do anything necessary to see it through.

Now that duty was finally fulfilled. The Key was locked inside this reality, tied to his magical power like a dog tied to a post. So long as his magical power existed, the Key would be trapped here. The sorcerer, after two days of recovery from the ritual, decided it was time to head back to the Bzantians. With his power combined with theirs, they would be able to destroy the Key completely. It was his responsibility to deliver the word to the Bzantia tribe that the Key is here.

He began his journey at daybreak with the aid of the map that led him to the isolated caves in the first place. After so many years, it was understandable that he had forgotten the way back to the tribe. He had litres of water prepared for the walk back, and enough food to hopefully last him. If not, he would hunt. As it turned out he needed food and water a lot less than he anticipated; the determination to see his duty performed to the end was enough to keep him going.

It was when the night fell, and he took shelter in another cave that things turned devastating for the sorcerer, and the entire world. He had a meal before laying his head down, wanting to have sufficient energy for the following day. Not one hour after he dropped into slumber was he awakened by a deep, menacing voice.

The sorcerer focused his eyes and saw through the darkness an outline of the figure. Even through the restrictions of almost complete darkness, the sorcerer could see the evil in his face, and the power in his hands. He would have to be powerful to command the demons behind him. Like stars in the night sky, the complete blackness of the cave was lit by dozens of orange eyes, fixated on the sorcerer, awaiting the pounce. But they were respectful to the dark figure in front of them, and would not move until he gave the word.

"So much magic goes off into the air. I could smell it; strong and delicious. I wanted it. So I followed it."

G'lakhi stepped forward, pinning the sorcerer between himself and the stone wall.

"I followed it to here. To you. I can smell it all over you. Powerful and unrestrictive. I'm thirsty."

G'lakhi struck the sorcerer through the chest, breaking through his ribcage and sucking up his soul.

The sorcerer's power was sucked from his body into the immortal's. He had failed his duty, and now he was going to die. Worst yet, he had brought the Key into this reality. The evil entities that want to use the Key for their own evil ends would be able to quite easily now. His only hope was that this demon, which had sucked up his power and with it the tie to the Key, would die before any evil could use the Key. As soon as he dies, and the power is gone, the Key will once again drift in and out of this reality, no longer tied to this dimension. Although it wouldn't be destroyed, at least it would be more difficult to use the Key.

"So, G'lakhi and Nudeeri were pretty high on the scare-o-meter." Buffy summarised, not having heard the part about the sorcerer and The Key. That was one detail Giles had yet to decipher from the Tome. If they did know, Buffy would've reacted much more urgently. "What changed? Where did they go? Where did the uber vamps go?"

"Nudeeri and G'lakhi destroyed the G'lukhandi tribe. However, there were a few who survived the attack, including the three most powerful shamans from the tribe. When they discovered it was their beloved G'lakhi who did this, they decided it was their duty to save their chief's and his lady's soul." Giles hesitated, wiping his brow of the sweat that was building up there. He knew Buffy wouldn't like the following part. "There was also a brave young woman who survived. It was her who saved the shamans lives, taking on and killing a number of the Turok-hans using only her hunting knife. The men were so impressed with her courage that they decided she would be the perfect instrument to cleanse the world of demons, if only she were stronger."

Buffy's face paled with the realisation of where the story was going. "Oh my God. Those men…it's them, isn't it?"

Giles knew who Buffy meant, and nodded sadly. It was only a few years ago that Buffy had her own experience with the men. "The shamans found an ancient treasure called the 'essence of the demon', and used it to grant the woman tremendous strength to fight G'lakhi. Unfortunately, when the woman was reluctant to go through with what the shamans had in mind, they chained her to the ground…"

The shamans ignored her. They were positioned in a square, with a shaman to the left and right of her facing each other and another shaman opposite her, with his back to her. The ones on the left and the right of her were banging their staffs against the ground in synchronicity, sending a drumming noise that echoed throughout the cave. She thrashed about wildly, pulling on the chains that held her down to no avail. The drumming was taking her to the brink of insanity, ticking down to her execution.

Her hunting knife was right in front of her; in the centre of the square herself and the shamans made up. A part of her hated herself for saving the men with that knife. As part of G'lakhundi tribe she was obligated to fight to protect the shamans, but now the obligations of the tribe were meaningless; G'lakhundi was finished. She watched as her families' stomachs were torn from their abdomens and Turok-hans drank from their organs like they were jugs of water. Her name used to be Rhindijo, meaning 'daughter of the priest', the priest who died while protecting the G'lukhandi tribe. But now she was the daughter of nothing. She has no name; she has nothing.

The third shaman, facing away from the girl, was just finishing anointing the box containing the essence of the demon for the ritual. He wanted to make sure that they were fully prepared, but at the same time he knew they could fail, no matter how well they planned. It was for this reason that they had buried a chest containing a number of ingredients for another ritual. It was their hope that, should they fail, future generations could use the ritual for aid in the war against evil. Completing the ritual would open a doorway into a mirror dimension of the world around them, and the shamans had already made sure that their essence would remain in the mirror dimension after the death, ensuring any future warriors of their assistance.

With the anointing finished, he turned to face the girl. She was struggling furiously, grunting and howling like a wild, caged animal. Hours before they had dressed her in the traditional white wrappings and face paints of G'lakhundi warriors, and her hair was thick and tangled, sticking out at every angle. As she shacked her head in her struggles, the thick tresses moved about like giant spider legs.

The shaman placed the box on the floor and stepped away from it like it would attack him. He raised both his hands and initiated the chanting, which the other two soon joined in on while beating their staffs. The chanting and drumming created a sort of threatening music. The chants were not words but sounds, calling out to an unknown being to come to them. When the principle shaman closed his mouth, the other two changed their chants to a sound that promised things to come. The girl stopped her struggling and watched in fear as the shaman facing her stepped towards the box once again and slid open the panel on the top. It was dark inside, and impossible to see what lied within. The shaman stepped back again and began a new chant to accompany the other shamans' and beat his staff with theirs.

Together, they coaxed the essence from its home. Slow at first, a piece of dark mist floated from the box, like a rabbit gauging the area around it for danger. Reassured, it slithered out of the box, gliding through the air and searching for its prey. The girl shrieked and tried to back away from the mist, but the restraints were far too strong. Finding what it was looking for, the demonic ooze bled through the air, caressing the girl and wrapping itself around her body. The girl felt disgusted and shook violently to push it off. She looked pleadingly at the shamans, but they just kept carrying out the ritual with no inclination of pity or mercy.

When the essence found what it was looking for-an opening-the girl gasped and keeled over. The mist didn't stop there, however. It found every opening the girl had and forced its way into her. Every one of her shrieks of shudders failed against the violation, and soon the essence had pushed itself into her entirely. And then everything fell silent. The shamans fell completely silent and the girl's face died in an expression of waiting and curiosity, her eyes focusing on an absent space in the cave.

The demon took hold of her insides. She threw her head back and roared an unholy howl that was echoed back cruelly, forcing all present to hear it until it died in the air. It filled every vein and artery in her body and flowed into her organs. Every place it touched it pulled at, twisting it and manipulating it for strength. It was as if the demon was physically taking form, growing in her body and tearing her apart. It went on for several minutes, during which she'd blacked out, however, the sheer pain pulled her reluctantly back. The agony seemed never ending, but eventually it did, leaving her in a heap on the floor. Broken.

The shamans weren't sure what to do. The trouble was that they didn't know whether or not they had been successful, and what they should do in either case. Sceptically, they inched towards what, for all they knew, could be a dead girl. It was when they were only a few inches away from her that she exploded.

She lunged forward with a deadly roar. The shamans promptly stepped away from her, thankful that the chains kept her at bay. But the restraints were no longer a match, and they were soon broken by her extraordinary strength. She pulled both of the chains from the floor and started swinging them, all the while eyeing the nervous shamans dangerously. In a flash of action, she swung the chain on her right hand at the shaman on her left. It wrapped itself around his thick neck tightly, leaving her to pull sharply on the chain. By the time his body reached her feet, his neck was already broken. Her attentions were already focused elsewhere, however. She tugged her right arm forward, unwrapping the chain from the corpse's neck and allowing her to retrieve her knife from the floor. In a simultaneous movement she swung the left chain at the shaman on her right, this time securing his arm. When she pulled him towards her she spun herself completely around, making sure that he was left with his back to her front. She quickly slit his throat and pushed him away, untangling the chain from his broken wrist. She raised her eyes to meet the shaman directly in front of her. He was shifting nervously, gripping his staff in both hands and ready to engage the girl. She swung both chains in wide circles before flicking them towards his legs. The restraints closed around his ankles securely. With a tug of both arms, the girl pulled the shaman's feet from underneath him and dragged him across the floor on his back towards her. When he was close enough, she threw herself on top of the man and dug her knife into him. And then again. And again. She kept stabbing him, over and over and over, long after he was dead. And when she stopped, she ran her hands through his blood and ran it over her face, hair and body. Without rhythm nor purpose she spread the blood onto herself, before burying her face in her bloodied hands.

"It's sad how things happen." The girl spun her head around to the voice. It belonged to a woman, not much older than herself, standing a few feet beside her. She was dressed all in white, and appeared to glow in her purity. She walked slowly up to the girl, gazing sadly at the three dead bodies. "These men did things wrong. I apologize on their behalf; they only meant to spare the world of pain." She stopped beside the bloodied girl and put her hand gently on her shoulder. "They failed you, but you needn't fail them. We can help you. We will help you. You can keep away the mounting darkness with us at your side." She smiled fondly at the girl.

The dark girl frowned in contemplation. She looked between the woman and the dead bodies on the floor, the death she'd caused. She cast her mind back to the G'lukhandi and her family. She suddenly realized how truly alone she was; she was a one of a kind with no family, no name, and no friends.

She spun back around and plunged the knife into the pure woman's heart. She gasped, gurgling on her own blood that had some how managed to push its way up into her throat and collapsed to the ground. The blood soaked girl stood up and walked from the caves, the chains dragging behind her.

With these words, she left the cave. From this day until she died, she never spoke another word.

"Well, that officially wins the 'look who's talking' award." Xander quipped grumpily at the slayer.

"She was scared." Buffy snapped at Faith, cleared disturbed by the graphic description of the girl's torture. "Wouldn't you be?"

"It would've undoubtedly been a truly horrific experience for the girl." Giles agreed. "The brutal nature through which the men changed her transformed her into little more than an animal; primordial and angry."

"Like in our dreams." Willow spoke up, referring to the time the first slayer attacked them all in their unconscious.

Giles nodded. "I imagine that invoking her spirit made her angrier than ever, and finding out that Buffy was slaying with friends would've certainly perturbed her; by all accounts she hunted alone and became a killing machine."

"Killing what? Did she keep killing humans?" Karen asked. Since coming to Los Angeles she had felt like a voyeur of the group, watching something of which she didn't belong. It was these feelings that kept her from speaking out, but now was an exception. The first slayer's angry and confused reaction to become a slayer reminded her of her own, and she could only imagine how much worse it must've been for the poor girl.

"Rarely, thankfully." Giles responded. "She hunted the demons, finding them to be a more formidable foe than humans. While the guardians didn't contact her again, they still believed they could help rid the world of evil. So they worked secretly to aid the slayer."

"The scythe?" Buffy guessed, remembering her conversation with the last of the guardians; an old woman whom was killed at the hands of the First's minion, Caleb.

"Yes." Giles bowed his head in confirmation. "The slayer soon discovered that, while she could dispatch of the lesser demons with her traditional hunting knife, she was no match for the pure demons. The guardians left the scythe for her to find, and with its power she banished the last of the pure demons from the face of the Earth." Giles found it quite astonishing that this slayer had achieved so much. Remembering back to the pure demon the mayor transformed into, it seemed impossible that just one slayer, without the explosive resources Buffy had, could destroy every one of them. It was his guess that the scythe made her stronger than she could've ever been without it.

Giles dropped his head and sighed mournfully. Buffy noticed her watcher's sombre movement. "He killed her?"

"But what about the next slayer?" Kennedy asked. "One of them must've killed him."

Wesley stepped forward, deciding to give Giles a break from the exposition. The stress was beginning to take its toll on the weary watcher, and Wesley could see that clearly. "The shamans only meant for this girl to be a one off. It was in fact the guardians that changed things; having another slayer called after the previous one dies to guard over the land."

Wesley was about to reply, but Giles stepped in front and cut him off. While he appreciated Wesley's help, they were getting to the crux of the explanations, and he felt he should be the one to deliver the facts. "The guardians created a well to store the slayer's power. When a slayer died, her power would be added to the well. This well called the next slayer and lent its power to her. And when she died, the power and strength in her soul, none of which are needed in the afterlife, were added to the well, allowing it to grow ever more powerful."

"Yeah? Why don't we just blag all this power and turn these girls into super-girls?" Spike shrugged, thinking his idea was the most logical.

"It isn't a physical well." Giles rolled his eyes at the peroxide vamp. "It exists out of synchronicity with this reality and cannot be 'blagged'."

"But what happened when I made everyone slayers?" Willow asked, suddenly panicking that she'd reckoned with a force she shouldn't have. "Didn't I empty it?"

"The well is based around power more than quantity; it doesn't actually empty. In a sense, what you did is divide the well into a number of parts without actually making them smaller." Giles explained, hoping that the redhead understood.

"That's impossible." Willow protested, almost childlike. "It's like have 200%. It's just illogical!"

"Physically, yes. But you must remember that magic makes it's own logic." Wesley reminded her.

"You needn't worry. You did nothing to upset the well." Giles smiled reassured at her.

"Okay, so slayers are being lined up and fired. What about G'lakhi?" Gunn asked.

"Slayer after slayer went after him, but to no avail. He was growing so potent that everything started to fear him, even The First."

"The First?" Buffy frowned at the mention of the ancient evil. "What's the First got to be scared of? Not as if it's got an ass to be kicked."

"It feared G'lakhi would attempt to steal it's power for himself." Giles explained. "If he were to succeed then the world tumbled into complete annihilation. He would've become unstoppable; whereas the First was non-corporeal, G'lakhi could actually attack, and already had vast amounts of power."

"B-but he failed, r-right?" Tara stuttered, fearful of G'lakhi's power and speaking in front of such a large audience.

"Yes." Giles confirmed. "The First, realizing it couldn't defeat the vampire alone, made unprecedented alliance with the guardians, both being powerful beings who wanted G'lakhi gone."

"So how did they do it?" Buffy questioned. It seemed an interesting twist that in the end The First had eradicated the last of the guardians from the Earth, while thousands of years ago they were in cahoots.

"In the guise of Nudeeri, The First fooled G'lakhi into following him into the shrine of The First without the protective ring of Yulha. The ring would've protected him in this place, where The First's power is at its most potent. As it was, without it The First could render G'lakhi powers, other than the ones he acquired as a mortal, dormant. The guardians and The First trapped him in the shrine, and left him with an impossible choice to make…"

It was something G'lakhi wasn't used to; following orders. But Nudeeri had asked him to follow her, and he would follow her to the ends of the world if she asked. However, he was becoming unnerved with the fact that she was moving tremendously fast, forcing him to run through the thick jungle after her, only knowing in which direction to go when he would notice the brief glimpse of her through the leaves. But while she may just be in a playful mood, which was quite common, he didn't know why she was heading towards the shrine of the First. The place was dangerous, and both he and Nudeeri knew it. He was even tempted to use his powers and stop Nudeeri before she could get any further. Although it wouldn't hurt her, he didn't; he never used his powers against Nudeeri in any way except from maintaining the calmness in her demon, even if it was just for gaining an advantage in a game. He would just trust Nudeeri, and luckily that was something he could always do.

So he just continued to run after her with a light jog, but thanked his enhanced agility for making his way through the overgrown vegetation. He was quite surprised at the speed Nudeeri could maintain, it wasn't that she was a slow vampire, but even the fastest of beings would've found trouble getting through the jungle at the velocity Nudeeri was moving, but she seemed to be moving with ease, as if she could just pass through the trees.

It wasn't long before G'lakhi could feel the intense heat of the flames from the huge torches surrounding the shrine of the First. The as per usual in all of the First's major dwellings, nothing grows above or below the shrine, and so the vegetation of the jungle stopped abruptly around the complex. G'lakhi followed Nudeeri up the few steps into the courtyard. With two large walls on its left and right, the courtyard was approximately 800 metres long and 400 metres wide. At the end of the courtyard was the doorway leading downwards into the catacombs of the shrine. There were two sets of stairs, one on the left and one on the right of the doorway, both leading up to the open area overlooking the massive courtyard. There were four brightly lit torches at each corner of this large platform, and three on each of the walls on the side of the courtyard. Not one of the torches was ever known to burn out. The shrine was said to be impenetrable, unless the First allowed entry.

Nudeeri made no hesitations in running up the steps into the vast courtyard, laughing as she did. Despite his reservations, G'lakhi followed her, knowing she wouldn't be leading him here without a good reason. Besides, she may be walking into danger, and he'd need to be around to protect her.

With their vampiric speed, it didn't take long for G'lakhi and Nudeeri to cross the entire length of the courtyard to the doorway. However, Nudeeri didn't stop there. With a quick glance behind her to be sure that G'lakhi was following her, Nudeeri went through the doorway, descending further into the shrine.

Unsure what was going on, G'lakhi started running faster, following her down into the shrine. "Nudeeri, where are we going?" She just kept running down the stairs.

The stairs inside the shrine spiralled downwards, reaching deep into the Earth. They were lined with torches mounted onto the wall, lighting the way. G'lakhi could only assume that these were equally inextinguishable as the much larger ones on the exterior. Eventually the spiralling stairs stopped at a small, narrow corridor, which then led to more stairs, leading downwards into the alter room. This was the most sacred place in the shrine, and G'lakhi was surprised to see, as he followed Nudeeri down the final set of stairs, that it wasn't sealed off. Was this what she wanted him to see?

When Nudeeri disappeared into the alter room, G'lakhi realized he had little choice but to follow her. Upon running into the alter room, he gasped at what he saw.

The alter room was a massive circular area. Along the walls were more invulnerable torches and four other doorways that led elsewhere, but G'lakhi couldn't see where, as they were sealed shut. The room was about twenty foot tall; a sufficient height to house any demons the First may summon. There were now at least twelve of the First's harbingers inside, along with himself and Nudeeri. Near the centre of the room was a large stone alter, on top of which was Nudeeri, bound and gagged. Beside her, smiling, was also Nudeeri, or rather the First imitating Nudeeri.

A harbinger behind G'lakhi slammed a large stone slab into place in front of the doorway, sealing them all in the alter room.

The echoing slam of the room being sealed broke G'lakhi out of his shock induced state. "Nudeeri!" He ran straight up to the alter and worked the restraints and gag off of his beloved.

The harbingers made a move to stop him, but the First, keeping with its guise of Nudeeri, simply smiled and waved them away. "Don't worry. It doesn't matter if she's bound or not anymore, so long as he's here."

As soon as Nudeeri was free, G'lakhi spun away from her to face the First. "HOW DARE YOU!" He roared to the unflinching evil. "Do you have any idea what you have done by attempting to best me? Worst yet, you attack me through Nudeeri!" G'lakhi seethed. Attacking him through his beloved was worse to him than killing him. "You are indeed are very foolish being."

The First chuckled maniacally, turning away from G'lakhi, while he continue to stare intently at it. "It is you who are the foolish one. Letting your love get the better of you." The First spat out the word 'love', being sure it got it across as a weakness just waiting to be exploited. It turned back to face G'lakhi once more, a smug smile playing over Nudeeri's sweet features. "You follow your beloved here mindlessly; right into my palm, without the protection."

"The ring of Yulha." G'lakhi muttered to himself ruefully. He knew about the ring through his studying of how to steal the First's powers. Going into the shrine of the First is deadly without it, and that was exactly what he'd done. "My powers…"

"Locked inside with no way of escape until you leave the shrine." The First smirked. "In here you are just another vampire with no powers-except the ones obtained as a mortal." The First frowned in thought mockingly. "Which, if I remember rightly, is just enough to take care of…" It nodded to behind G'lakhi.

G'lakhi turned around, and gasped as he saw Nudeeri. She was thrashing about wildly, as if having a seizure. Without his power, the demon inside her had once again stopped being calm…she was transforming into a Turok-han. "Nudeeri!" He ran up to her, seizing her shoulders in an attempt to calm her. However, one of her flailing arms caught him, knocking him backwards. Her hands had already transformed, and now her face was starting to morph into that of the demon's. G'lakhi scrambled back up to her, looking on helplessly as the demon inside her fought against the body.

"The choice is yours to make." The First spoke softly over Nudeeri's convulsions behind G'lakhi. "You have enough power to defeat all the harbingers in this room, at the cost of your dear Nudeeri." The First grinned as it saw G'lakhi scowl even through the back of the vampire's head. "Or you could save her. It will be you two; two ordinary vampires, against fourteen of my harbingers."

G'lakhi watched as Nudeeri's hair fell from her scalp; Turok-hans don't have any hair. "I can kill them all even without my power." He growled at the entity behind him, never once taking his eyes off his consort.

G'lakhi gulped. For the first time since becoming a vampire he was scared. He wasn't scared for himself, but for Nudeeri. Powerless, he honestly didn't know whether he could defeat all the harbingers in the room and protect Nudeeri from any harm. However, it was either that or see her transform into a mindless, hideous beast. That was G'lakhi's worst nightmare, and something he wasn't prepared to do.

His mind made up, he grasped both his hands on Nudeeri's temples and poured his energy into her, calming the demon inside her. With each second he could feel himself becoming weaker and weaker, but he knew it was the only way. Nudeeri stopped thrashing and started reverting back into her beautiful self. Some of her hair was still missing, but it would grow back soon enough.

When all was done, G'lakhi gently brought his hands away from his beloved's head and clasped her hands in his own. He smiled as he saw her open her weary eyes and heard her sweet, melodic voice…

The moment was cut off when, from behind them, a portal started to open, pouring blue light into the room and filling it with the sounds thunderous claps of lightning. G'lakhi was so confused with the newly opened portal he didn't even notice when eight of the harbingers tackled him, dragging the vampire towards the portal.

"G'lakhi!" Nudeeri tried to help him, but was held back by the remaining harbingers.

G'lakhi punched and kicked out at the First's minions feverishly, forging strength from the rage he felt when he saw the First's face grinning triumphantly behind the gang of harbingers. However, although he managed to knock a few of the harbingers off of him, collectively they were too strong, and were able to easily push him to the portal and throw him through…

"G'lakhi!" Nudeeri screeched again, running towards the closing portal with G'lakhi on the other side. She was so focused on him, she didn't the harbinger's dagger swinging into her stomach.

"Nudeeri!" G'lakhi screamed, watching through the other side of the nearly closed portal. He struggled to get through to the other side, but was being pulled further into the other dimension by some unseen force.

When the dagger imbedded itself into her abdomen, Nudeeri, couldn't stop herself from keeling over, grasping at the dagger. However, in this position, she was vulnerable to the unseen harbinger beside her wielding an axe…

"NO!" G'lakhi screamed out as he saw the axe come down hard on his beloved's neck, lopping off her head. Her body collapsed in a pile of dust as the portal closed itself completely, trapping G'lakhi on the other side.

The lobby was silent as Giles' words died in the air. The story of G'lakhi and Nudeeri, despite what they were, was indeed a tragic one. Willow in particular couldn't help but feel sorry for G'lakhi. She too knew the pain of seeing the love of your life killed before your very eyes and being helpless to help.

"A prison dimension." Giles explained, clearing his throat and mind of the disturbing story he'd told. "The guardians opened the portal, which wasn't strong enough to pull in G'lakhi so long as he had any power, which was why the First did what it did. The well of the slayers' power kept him locked up."

"The First." Those two words were enough of an explanation for everyone present. "It had plans of its own. Without G'lakhi or Nudeeri, the vampire and Turok-han armies were left to run wild. While it didn't care much for the vampires, the First had plans for the Turok-hans. So it took control of them and held them in the Hellmouth for a time when the slayer line was weak enough so it may exploit it; wipe the slayers from existence and control the Earth."

Everyone recognized the story, particularly those who'd been in the battle. "So, the vampires we sorted out in the Hellmouth were the same ones this bloke and his missus controlled?" Spike deduced. It was quite exhilarating to know that he'd wiped out hundreds of vampires from a time that pre-dated the written word.

"So wait a minute," Buffy spoke up as a thought suddenly came to mind. "All along it was actually the guardians' fault for that whole First thing. I mean, they shouldn't have trusted it."

"To be fair, Buffy, they really had no choice." Giles argued in favour of the guardians. "If they hadn't, G'lakhi would've eventually seized control over the entire world."

"Well, we know they hid the scythe for Buffy." Giles drew in a deep breath before continuing. "However, this alone wouldn't be enough, they knew that. The slayer would need real power against the First. They took it upon themselves to create it. With every last bit of power they had left, they created a powerful entity that was connected the well guarding G'lakhi. The drain on their powers forced them underground to escape dangers, but they were successful. They had created the Goddess of the Slayer."

Buffy sighed in relief, realizing they were finally getting towards the important part. However, while she sighed, she also unconsciously shifted her weight from one leg to another, an effect of her nervousness. "So what did this Goddess do?"

"Nothing." Giles shrugged. "At least, not yet. While everything was still safe, the Goddess just watched over G'lakhi. That's how it was for a few thousand years, until a couple of hundred years after the crucifixion when G'lakhi escaped from his prison back into this world."

"How?" Fred wasn't speaking much in front of the rest of the group, but she was interested on knowing the details of the story.

"A ritual by vampires who believed the myth of G'lakhi. He returned in another body and changed his name, but underneath it all he was still G'lakhi."

"But if he is so powerful, then how comes he's been walking around for the last two thousand years and none of us has even heard of him?" Buffy scoffed. Maybe G'lakhi wasn't so powerful after all.

"The ritual failed to bring his powers back." Giles dashed her hopes. "He was little more than an ordinary vampire; his power still locked away and guarded by the Goddess. Unfortunately, the guardians had made plans for the Goddess. The reason they created her was so that when the slayer line was weakened-when the First would be most likely to attack-the Goddess would awaken in a mortal beside the slayer to help her in the fight."

"Like me and Buffy?" Faith asked. She was sick and tired of being blamed for everything.

"Kendra and Buffy, actually." Giles corrected, looking back down at the notes he made. "The Goddess awakens after the first slayer of the second line dies."

"A mortal close to the slayer, yes. They wouldn't have had any real knowledge of it, but they awoke with almost all the power and all the benevolence of the Goddess." Giles clarified.

"If a God or Goddess awakens in somebody they have tremendous power, but it is almost impossible to connect with the God's complete power. It is just beyond mortal capabilities." Giles explained.

"So who is it?" Buffy asked, looking around at everyone in the room as if the person would just raise the hand. Finding nothing, she turned back to Giles. "Who has the Goddess in them?"

"Duh!" Cordelia blurted out before Giles could have the chance to say anything. "It's Willow!"

"But she wasn't that powerful until about the time Glory came. I thought she'd awaken when Kendra died?" Buffy questioned her watcher, although she believed Cordelia's suspicion to be the best bet.

"Oh, she awoke. She awoke big time." Cordelia argued. "You weren't there, but when she did that curse on Angel in the hospital, something serious went through her. And that was straight after Kendra died."

"It is likely as time went on you just managed to realize more and more of the power given to you." Giles explained to Willow, agreeing with Cordelia, but it pained him too much to say it out loud.

"Wait, you're not actually saying this is a real explanation?!" Willow asked in disbelief.

"Will, it does make the most sense." Buffy rested her hand gently on Willow's shoulder.

"But, you said the Goddess was all with the benevolence. I was evil! Plus, what about the whole dagger of the Goddess thing, and let's not forget about the big honking Tara coming back from the dead and weird marking on our palms that glow and glowing books and daggers that turn into swords and weird markings and what about G'lakhi?!" Willow was in full babble mode.

"Well, I must agree your descent into dark magics does go against the evidence." Giles sighed off Willow's ramble. "But as for the sword of the Goddess, well the guardians created it for a link to mortal world. Every entity has one; a way to channel some of the God's energy. I don't know how it was transformed into a dagger; it's something I will look into. While I don't know completely what happened to Tara, I believe you being the Goddess would explain the markings and G'lakhi. You see, once the mortal carrying the Goddess dies, the soul of the mortal would go onto the afterlife and the Goddess would return to the well to guard over G'lakhi's power. However, there is a split second when the Goddess follows the soul to the afterlife. In that time, the link to the well would get severed, leaving G'lakhi's power unguarded. G'lakhi took full advantage of this."

"Wait, why would the guardians do that, then?" Buffy asked. "If they knew G'lakhi would be able to escape when the Goddess died?"

"They didn't know G'lakhi would've escaped. If he were still trapped when the Goddess died, even with link to the well momentarily severed he wouldn't be able to escape as nothing is pulling him out into this dimension. With him here, however, his body was always pulling on his powers. The second the link was severed the powers were pulled out of the dimension and back into his body." Giles explained with some difficulty.

"Wait just one cotton picking minute! For that to have happened, I would've had to die. And as I am clearly in the 'alive' group, I think that excludes me from the 'Goddess' group." Willow smiled as she finished off her argument.

"Well, when G'lakhi pulled his power back into his body, he also pulled the Goddess back into the dimension along with the mortal the Goddess was in. That's why, for his power to have been returned to him, G'lakhi had to be sure that when she was killed Willow's body was completely destroyed." Giles sighed as he tried to tell Willow she was wrong.

"His powers couldn't return without sending the Goddess back, and two identical bodies cannot share the same dimension." Giles explained. "There can be doppelgangers, robots, The First and two humans with weak and strong traits but not an identical copy with identical memories and traits. The universe will not allow it to happen, even if one of them is dead. Therefore, the dead one needed to be destroyed" Giles had to search his mind for every example he could think of when there were two of any of them.

"Aren't we forgetting something? The lack of me dying?" Willow argued, frustrated.

"G'lakhi sired The Master; his name now is Aurelius." Giles didn't stop to gauge Buffy's shocked expression. This was about Willow. "I believe the vampires who kidnapped Willow and blew up the van she was in were working for Aurelius, trying to completely obliterate her body. And they succeeded." The group was left in a stunned silence, but Giles still pushed on through it. "That is how Willow 'survived' with no injury despite her power being bound. She didn't survive at all; she was just brought back moments later, along with Aurelius' magic."

"Oh my God." Xander was the first to speak. It was unbelievable to think that his little Willow, his bestest of best friends forever was a Goddess! It was crazy enough when she tried to destroy the world, but this was mad! He was almost as shocked as when she revealed she's gay!

"No. No way. I can't be a Goddess. I can't!" Willow looked at Tara desperately for support.

"When the mortal returns to their body they bear the mark of the Goddess. That's why she's had it on her since the incident." Giles told her, explaining everything he could.

Willow swung her head around to Giles. "But why does Tara have the mark too? Maybe she's the Goddess." Willow suggested as the idea popped into her head. "She died and came back! Plus, her body was lost when Sunnydale fell apart."

Giles took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, the lack of sleep finally catching up to him at a critical time. "I really don't know."

"I do!" Giles argued angrily, then turned back away to pour himself some of the tea on the counter. "Just not all of them."

"So how do we get the rest? Ask the tooth fairy?" Spike suggested sarcastically.

Something suddenly went off in Giles' mind, and he silently thanked Spike for giving him the idea. "Not the tooth fairy." Giles turned, and ran his eyes across the room until they fell on Ethan. "But a fairy, nonetheless."

"Okay, I know that. But that's all." Ethan promised in the most convincing voice he could pull off.

Giles marched up to the bound Englishman and grasped his throat in his vice-like grip, pinning him to the pillar. "You tell me what you know, or I'll do what I should've done the moment I first met you."

"You don't have the guts." Ethan challenged as well as he could with Giles squeezing his throat.

With his left hand Giles pulled out the knife he'd used on Ethan's leg and held it against Ethan's Adam's apple beside his hand, with just enough pressure without the skin breaking. "Is that right?"

"Stay back, Buffy." He commanded, never taking his eyes off Ethan. "You know exactly what I'm capable of." He whispered just loud enough for Ethan to hear, and then raised his voice again. "Who is the Goddess? Willow or Tara?"

Ethan recognized the look in Giles' eyes and shivered. It was a look he hadn't seen in years, but it was still one of the scariest sights he'd ever witnessed. It meant Giles didn't have any reservations, and was more than prepared to kill. Ethan was smart enough to know when to mess about, and this wasn't it. His life really was on the line.

"A oath ah!" He gurgled out as best as he can, as Giles had increased the pressure on his throat to accentuate his threat.

Giles eyed Ethan for a few moments before pushing him to the floor. He loomed over his nemesis, with his knife still in his hand. "Say that again." He demanded. He thought he heard what the Ethan had said, but needed confirmation.

That was what Giles thought he'd said, but it didn't make him any less shocked. The entire room had their mouth wide open as the implications set in. "There is only one Goddess." Giles argued.

"You really are a silly boy, aren't you Ripper?" Ethan chuckled as he rubbed his sore throat. "The guardians were powerless when G'lakhi-or Aurelius-escaped. But the watchers' council wasn't. They realized what would happen if the Goddess awakened and her body was destroyed, and so decided to prevent it."

"They split the Goddess in two." Ethan replied, pleased to be in a position of hierarchy. "They both awakened at the same time, when you said, but only one alongside the slayer, and the other miles away."

"The one alongside the slayer was gifted with the Goddesses' power and some of her benevolence, and the other one was gifted with benevolence and some of the power." Ethan glanced briefly at Willow and Tara, who were now standing beside each other and staring wide eyed at him, before turning back to Giles. "Hence the terms…"

"Smart girl." Ethan nodded smugly to the redhead. "The Power half could help out the slayer while the Benevolent half just lives out her life without ever knowing anything." Noticing Tara's expression, which looked as if she was about to cry, he turned to her gently. "Oh, don't worry, love. I'm not saying you're only sweet and innocent 'cause some God set up in your body. The Benevolent half was attracted to pure souls, so it really didn't change you at all…didn't make you any nicer or more powerful…it just means you're connected to the tremendous power."

Giles recognized that Ethan's attempts to make Tara feel better, while he was probably telling the truth, were not really genuine; he was just making fun. "What about the sword?" He asked, pulling his attention from the scared blonde across the lobby.

"The sword is activated if the Goddess is at full power." Ethan brought his attention back to the ex-watcher above him. "By that I mean once the Goddess awakened the sword turned back into a crappy little dagger, when those birds fell in love it was a sword again, then the blonde one dies and it's dagger again. Now that their together again and bonded soulfully, by which I mean declaring your love or whatever, the sword is activated again."

"Well, well. You're not as stupid as you look, are you Rupert?" Ethan remarked, smirking at Giles' scowling response. "What we saw earlier was the Goddess being completely bonded together momentarily when the girls started the kissing and romance stuff. It broke the lock on the Tome of the Gods, activated the sword of the Goddess and took care of 'big, bad Ethan' for you." Ethan rolled his eyes. "Lucky you."

"What did the council hope to achieve?" Giles asked, still looking down his nose at Ethan with a threatening demeanour. "How would separating the Goddess change anything?"

"The first one out of them who dies goes to the well to guard over Aurelius' power. It wouldn't escape because the one still alive would still be linked to the well" Ethan was oblivious to Tara's visible shaking. She'd now realized where she was for those few years; she was guarding Aurelius' power. "When the other one dies, the link is severed, but it doesn't matter because the first one who died is already guarding over the dimension. The soul moves onto the afterlife, and the half goes back to the well and other half where it once again becomes the Goddess of the Slayer. With everything safe and well, the soul of the first who died is then free to move onto the afterlife. Everyone's a winner. Except, of course, things didn't end up like that."

"What went wrong?" Willow asked through clenched teeth, pinning Ethan with her gaze. She hated the idea that a group of men had a plan for Willow and Tara's life and after lives centuries before they were even born.

"You did." Ethan replied calmly. "There's a loophole in the council's scheme; soul mates. Back in those days the council didn't think much of it because soul mate invariably tends to mean lovers, and as the halves would both be women, and as that sort of thing wasn't as mainstream as it is now, it didn't seem important." Ethan shrugged, not noticing how Willow and Kennedy (Tara was too shaken up) seemed to be seething at how Ethan referred to homosexuality as 'that sort of thing', like it was an illness. "Besides, you wouldn't be anywhere near each other. But, of course, soul mates seek each other out, and you both ended up in Sunnydale. You met and fell in love. How touching." Ethan pressed his hand to his heart in sarcasm.

"How does that change anything?" Willow was getting infuriated with Ethan and his explanations, so much so that she was physically shaking.

Ethan turned towards Willow and Tara, and his expression turned dark. This was the part he'd been looking forward to. "Because when soul mates meet, they will always seek the other one out." He nodded at Tara. "You were busy guarding over Aurelius' power, but when the redhead died, you felt her soul and followed it, abandoning your post while you were at it. With both of the links severed at the moment she died, Aurelius' power was dragged back, bringing you two back with it."

Tara was on the edge of collapsing in tears. She didn't want to believe any of this. What he was implying was like a worse nightmare…it was something her family always told her, but against everything she ever believed in. "Y-y-you mean…"

At Ethan's confirmation, Tara darted from the hotel in tears, not caring about the danger of going outside.

"Tara!" Without any qualms for her own safety or any rationalization, Willow bolted after her love.

Giles looked over his shoulder quickly to where the slayers were all sitting. "Karen…"

"I'm on it." Agreeing to Giles' silent plea, she went after the witches without a word of protest.

When he turned back to Ethan, Giles felt sick at the obscene grin on Ethan's face. It was obvious that Ethan had taken great pleasure in destroying Tara's life. When the slithering man started to cackle slightly, Giles couldn't help himself, and punched Ethan in the face. It was quite difficult to make the punch count, considering Ethan was kneeling while Giles was standing up, but Giles' attack knocked Ethan back as far as the restraints would let him.

Ethan sat back up to a kneeling position, and chuckled again as he held his bloody nose. "You've always had a terrible temper, Ripper old boy."

Ethan sniffed, as if trying to suck to blood back up his nose. "Maybe because I still have things you need to know."

"Then you're stupid." Ethan let a moment pass before tilting his head at the man he once considered to be his best mate. "Did you ask yourself why I asked if you'd kill these kids if it'd save the world?" Giles' demeanour wavered as he realized where Ethan was going. He was too pre-occupied with Ethan's focused eyes to notice the surprised stares the others were giving him at the news that he'd shared such a conversation with his worst enemy. Ethan, noticing he was troubling Giles pushed on. "Maybe you would've realized something earlier if you did. Like how I know what's going on. And how I know that the Goddess and Aurelius, in one way or another, is still mystically linked. His success is hinged on them remaining in this plane and not figuring out a way to best him up there where the power is." He nodded up towards the ceiling.

"What are you saying?" Giles' question came out as a warning of what his next words better be, or more accurately better not be. Ethan didn't take heed to the warning.

"I'm saying that the chances are you've got a choice who you kill. An unstoppable, ancient immortal with more power than you can handle, or one of two of the people you love most in the whole world." Ethan started giggling maniacal at the darkening of Giles' features.

It was beginning to look like a real work of art. The five year old took great care to transform her A4 piece of paper into something worthy of even the most prestigious galleries with nothing more than a few crayons. Any other toddler would've undoubtedly rushed the picture, or lose interest in it altogether, and so would've she, if not for the fact that she was drawing this for the most important person in her whole world. Her mommy.

Tara Maclay was determined for the picture to be perfect, just as she always was when she did anything for her mommy. Once it was completed the page was entirely covered in her bright palette of crayons. She hadn't allowed any of the white from the paper to see through the wax except where she had wanted it to. Almost half of the page was bright blue sky and in the top right-hand corner Tara had drawn a large sun to overlook the rest of the picture. In a beautiful green field sat herself and her mother, cross legged and holding hands, surrounded by dozens of daisies in the grass. Next to them was a small deer, watching them on it's stick thin legs.

After taking a few more minutes to perfect the picture, Tara held it up to fully regard her work, and smiled in satisfaction. Quite certain that it would be well-received, Tara jumped fluidly out of her cross-legged position and onto her feet before running downstairs as fast as her tiny little legs would allow, eager to see whether or not she was right.

She found her mother sitting cross-legged in front of the fire with her eyes closed, obviously in a state of meditation. A lesser person would be angry at being disturbed during such a calm and peaceful state, particularly when such states were so hard to come by in her life, but Tara knew her mother wouldn't mind, or get angry with her. There had only ever been one instance that Tara could remember when her mother had really been angry with her. It was a year ago, when her and her mother were studying magic. They'd packed it all away before her father returned home. However, Tara secretly did a couple more incantations in her room that night, despite her mother's insistence not to do magic when her dad was at home, especially without her supervision. Tara's father had caught her, and both she and her mother were thoroughly beaten by him. Tara remembered Donnie standing in the corner, watching as her dad hit them, not knowing whether to cheer her dad on or break down in tears and beg him to stop. When he left, her mother was furious with her, but it was no worse than how bad Tara felt. Her face was streaming with tears, and it didn't take long until she was accepted back into her mum's arms.

"Mommy! Mommy!" She jumped on the spot excitedly. Her mum opened her eyes slowly and gracefully and turned her head to her daughter. Seeing the excitement plastered on her daughter's face, she couldn't help but smile a lop-sided smile. Tara proudly held her artwork out for her mother's inspection. "Look!"

She took the picture from her daughter and drank from the colors on the page. The picture was typical of Tara's drawings; just the two of them in a beautiful, peaceful setting. Tara had never drawn her brother or father into her pictures. Tara's mum smiled fondly at the picture.

Pleased at her mother's acceptance, Tara jumped into her arms, almost bowling the older woman over. With her cheek pressed hard against her mother's chest, Tara tightened her arms around her mother. She was ecstatic at having pleased her mother, just as she always was.

Tara's mother felt a warming sensation roll through her as her beautiful little girl hugged her. Just as Tara felt about her, she loved Tara more than anything else in the world. Sometimes she felt guilty; Tara was everything in the world to her, and sometimes she'd completely forget about Donnie. It wasn't that she didn't love Donnie, he was her son and she'd always love him. It was just that, on some level, Donnie was always his father's, and Tara was always hers. Donnie was only seven, but she could already see his father's traits manifesting in the boy. He had violent outbursts, and while he had never hit her, he would never hesitate to attack Tara, even though he knew his little sister was defenseless and never fought back. In fact, she'd never known Tara to strike back at either her father or brother whenever they hit her, even when the attacks were particularly brutal. Deep down inside of her, she knew that one day Donnie would turn out exactly like his father, perhaps even worse. It was this that kept Donnie from the same kind of love she showed Tara.

In an effort to push these deeply unpleasant thoughts from her mind, she scrunched her eyes closed, swallowed hard and tried to focus on the feeling of having her daughter's loving arms around her. It was always a fate worse than death whenever Tara was hurt, and just the thought of it brought tears to her eyes. It pained her that she couldn't take the girl away from this lifestyle of having to always look over her shoulder. Sadly, she knew that was out of the question, because of who she is….what Tara is. It was that that Tara's mother hated most of all. She knew that eventually Tara would endure all the pain and anguish that she did, and she hated it. Everyday she wished it could all be changed, if not in her lifetime then in her daughter's. She wished it was all one big lie; that her and her daughter could run away and that she could watch her live out her life happily. Sadly, that was never to be, and they both knew that.

Reminding herself that she was trying to keep the depressing thoughts at bay, Tara's mum pulled away from her daughter to examine her picture more closely. "Is that you and me?"

"We're meditating." She stated in a matter of fact way, and then broke out into a frown. "Remember? With the deer?"

"Of course." Tara's mother hugged her tighter, fondly remembering the day only a couple of months ago when they meditated in a meadow a few miles away and came across a deer both herself and Tara became very fond of. "This is a picture of then?"

Tara smiled in relief, having almost started crying at the thought that her mum didn't remember one of her most treasured memories. "Yeah. See, that's Hoppy." She pointed to the deer, using the affectionate name she'd given it at the time.

"It's lovely, sweetie." Tara's mum kissed her on the crown of her head, pulling the little girl closer to her. "I love you. My sweet little baby girl." She grinned as tickled Tara in the belly, inciting a squeak of surprise from the girl.

"Mommy!" Tara giggled and squirmed in her mother's grip, trying to get away from the older woman's playful tickling.

The gently, loving atmosphere was broken in a mere slam of the front door. Suddenly, Tara's mother's laughter and tickling disappeared. The violent noise launched her onto her feet, carrying both Tara and the picture with her to the kitchen as fast as she could.

"It's okay, baby. Stay quiet for me sweetie, okay?" She whispered in the girl's ear as she pushed the door open. Without a thought of her own safety, she crossed directly to the other side of the kitchen to a row of low-down cupboards hidden reasonably well by the counter. She pulled open one of the widest of the cupboards open and, finding it nearly entirely empty, save from a few cups, she ushered Tara into it, which the girl did without any hesitation.

"Stay here until I tell you, 'kay?" Tara simply nodded and curled herself up into a ball to accommodate herself to the cramped size of the cupboard. She knew the protocol for when her father came home after drinking. "I love you, baby."

Heartbroken by her daughter's desperate declaration, Tara's mother leaned into the cupboard and kissed her softly yet urgently on her cheek before closing the door and standing up to recompose herself.

"What were you doing?" The horrible, gruff voice grumbled behind her. His voice sounded just as it should after being attacked by a full night's drinking.

Tara's mother tried to recompose herself as well as she could after the shock of her husband's accusing voice at the doorway of the kitchen. "I didn't see you there." She tried her hardest to speak calmly and nonchalantly.

"You had dinner before you went out. Remember?" She reminded in the most respectful voice she could. With her head down and swift yet gracious steps she tried to past his lean form, leaning herself away from him as she came by as if he were blaring heat. With speed she was unaware that people who'd consumed so much alcohol possessed, he seized her wrist in a vice grip.

In all the haste of hiding Tara, she'd forgotten she was still holding her little girl's drawing. Just one glance at the drawing would be enough to show Tara's father what it was; a picture of her and Tara meditating. He would tear the piece of paper up, and then he would most likely hit Tara, once he found her. Tara's mother wouldn't allow that to happen.

"It's nothing." She silently begged for him to believe her, looking up at him with large, hopeful blue eyes.

Meanwhile, across the kitchen in the cupboard, Tara heard as the muffled voices turned to shouts and screams. She heard as the deeper of the voices, her father's, grew strong and angry, and her mother's got smaller and more desperate. And then it came. The hitting. The shrieking of her mother as she hit the ground. Tears rolled down her face, which began to glow red as the blood rose to her skin. And then the screams of pain that accompanied her father using his fists changed, and a new shrieking started, of not only pain but something else. Something Tara didn't really want to know, but couldn't help but hear. Her body shook violently as the emotional state of the girl diminished with each of her mother's anguished shrieks. She fought a war within herself in an attempt to mute her own sobs and stop her own shaking, fearful that her father would find her. In the darkness of the cupboard, she could see nothing. Everything she heard made her feel even worse. He body ached to go out and help her mother, but she was helpless. She must sit there and endure the torture of hearing as her mother's bones break and her father's fist's cracked across her face time and time again, not knowing if the next time would be the last. If it was, she could be next. He could find her, and kick, slap her…maybe her brother would join in? She hated it all. And she was helpless. Her father controlled everything, locked her in this dark, dark place…made her helpless…

"Tara! Tara, slow down!" Willow's rapid footsteps echoed down the empty the alleyway behind the blonde, whose own steps were too gentile to make any real noticeable echo. Neither were aware that Karen was tracking them, or that the slayer had since lost them and was heading back to the hotel.

Tara finally stopped and turned back to the redhead. Years of being a Scooby had made Willow more athletic than Tara, and she couldn't outrun the small hacker for much longer, and she knew it. Besides, the foolishness of running into the depths of the demon infested city was beginning to dwell on her for the first time.

Willow came to a stop right in front of the blonde witch, taking deep breaths to keep up with her pounding heart. "Tara, you shouldn't…"

"Willow, please…" Tara's voice cracked as she fought with herself not to cry. "I…I just want to be alone."

"I get that. I really do." Willow's voice was small and hopeful. "But the hotel…really big and less danger of demons."

Tara looked around at her surroundings, having not really thought much about where she was running to while actually running. It was a completely deserted and utterly creepy looking alleyway, very stereotypical of where a stupid blonde girl would run to in a horror movie and end up having her guts ripped out. The fact that the lives they lived were very much like horror movies left Tara feeling very stupid indeed.

She turned back to Willow. Her eyes were wide, revealing her large, green orbs to the world. They too were watery, and were pleading with Tara to come back with her. The mere sight of them broke Tara's defenses, and she was left to contort her face and look away as she talked to try to, unsuccessfully, keep the tears away.

"Exactly what daddy would say." Tara whispered to herself, and glanced sideways to check whether or not she'd said it loud enough for Willow to hear as well. She had.

Willow's eyes and mouth widened in realization of Tara's anguish. "Oh, Tara, I'm so sorry…" She leaned in to comfort the girl, shocked when Tara flinched away from her, looking down as if in shame with her arms crossed. "Tara?" Willow asked, almost in hysterics at having Tara shy away from her.

"I don't want to deal with this." Tara shook her head hard, her blonde hair flicking around and obscuring her face. She took a couple of deep breaths to control her breathing, then raised her head to meet Willow's eyes. "People are dying and evil is winning. I don't want to believe it's all because I love you."

Willow didn't know what to say. She looked on as Tara wet her lips and looked down at herself again. She wanted to offer some words of support or defiance, but she knew none could be offered. Unless they could prove Ethan's words wrong, Tara would forever blame herself for anything Lucius did to anyone. And worse yet, she would blame her love. It was the purest thing Tara had known in her life; Willow knew that, because it was the purest thing she'd known too. To have it blackened, tainted in such a way in the name of evil was indescribable. Suddenly, Willow too felt ashamed and sickened. "Tara…"

Willow didn't know what to say, but she knew she had to get herself and Tara back to the hotel. She had no idea of knowing by the time she'd spoken, she was already to late. Almost twenty vampires came charging down the alleyway, about ten at each side, trapping the girls. There were helpless.

The two looked at each other wide eyed for a moment, awaiting the moment when they would be pinned between the two groups of vamps. With a glance at her beloved, Willow swung herself back around to right hook the first of the vampires to come at her, knocking it back. She then kicked and punched in every direction as more vamps came around her, knocking her back and forth.

Tara, like Willow, was just throwing her limbs blindly in a hope that they'd hit her attackers. With the density of the vampires, it was expected that both succeeded in hitting a number of the vampires, but their attacks were neither fast nor strong enough to do any real damage, and they just didn't have enough time to incant any spells, let alone any strong enough to fight every one of the vampires.

When the vampire in front of Willow moved, she saw Tara clearly for the first time since the vampires had reached them, and also saw why there seemed to be less and less vampires near her. Tara was surrounded by vampires. However, she didn't seem to have a mark on her. Instead, they were dragging her helplessly down the alley, away from Willow. Tara was thrashing about, fighting with all her might. However, against more than a dozen demons, she hadn't any chance.

"Tara!" Willow screamed, but it wasn't any good. The few vampires that were still with her was keeping her from running after Tara, and the vampires with the blonde were moving too fast even if she were free. It was at this time that she realized that it wasn't just Tara who the vampires weren't hurting; they were just keeping Willow from Tara rather than actually attacking her.

However, to Willow this was enough. Furious, she swung her fists round, knocking the first two vamps holding her away. She then ran as fast as her legs would carry her, knowing that there were at least two more vampires, and the ones she'd punched would also most likely be up by now as well. Sure enough, she soon felt one of them seize her ankles together with its large, thick arms, bringing her down to the ground like a concrete block. However, she'd already found what wanted; a broken wooden box, complete with sharp shards. Grabbing one of them, Willow rolled herself onto her back and plunged it into the chest of the first vamp to jump onto her, having taken advantage of his colleague knocking her to the ground. With this vampire done, and the next two a few seconds behind her, Willow focused on the one holding (and trying to bite) her legs. Using a tried and tested formula from her play fights with Xander years ago, she kicked her legs furiously, freeing herself and dazing the vamp enough to get onto her knees and shove the shard through his heart. Through the dust of the second vampire she saw the last two bearing down on her. She screwed her eyes shut tight and began reciting words of what was simple spell to perform, but hopefully enough to kill a vamp or two.

While she incanted, the vampire got to her and threw his entire weight down onto the petite redhead, pinning her to the ground. But still, she kept her eyes shut and her mouth moving. When she heard the hissing voice of the vampire baring his fangs and coming down on her throat, she shot her eyes open and finished her chant in one word.

"Incinderae!" With this last word spoken, she slammed the palm of her hand into the vamp's chest, shooting fire at the unsuspecting demon. The vamp was launched backwards in flames, landing on the last of the vampires and pinning him to the ground under his flailing body, igniting and eventually dusting the last vampire.

With herself out of danger, Willow got back up and turned on her heels, moving as fast as her legs would allow. Reaching the end of the alley, she was pleased to note that to her right was a dead end, so the direction to go was clearly a no-brainer. She ran down the wide LA street until she got to the main street. As soon as she reached the busy road, she saw two unmarked, pure black cars speed past her. In the first, through the dark tainted windows, she saw Tara, bound and gagged and surrounded by vampires. The second followed, containing the remainder of vamps.

"Tara!" Willow screamed and ran after them, wishing that the street was busy enough so that the cars could get caught in traffic. But it weren't and the cars easily sped away from her, gaining more and more distance with every second. She followed for as long as she could, following it around three corners. But the next corner she passed, they were already gone. Still she kept following, blindly guessing where they might have turned. But it was too late, and eventually, she was left to realize the fact that they were gone.

Tears sprung to her eyes, and her breathing became heavy as she suddenly realized the inevitable; Tara was gone.

The air seemed thinner atop the rock. From where she stood she could see the quarry in its entirety. The distant sky was streaked in orange and red ribbons that cascaded from the sun behind her, which hung just above the ground and glowed with the color of a roaring fire. It made the water in the quarry sparkle with the lights of a thousand candles, and the kids in there in their bathing suits glow orange. It was an awe inspiring sight.

The kids, some in the water and some on the quarry's edge, all craned their necks, their eyes wide in awe, not quite believing what the girl might do. Underneath the large rock were no kids where Faith's likely landing spot was. They even refused to go near the edge, in case she missed the water and hit the ground where they happened to be. None of them moved. They just stood, or floated, motionlessly, watching…

Faith brought her head back up to meet the horizon, and gulped her fear down. Everyone else was too scared to jump from this, the pinnacle of rocks that surrounded the quarry. But she'd remained adamant that she could do it, even in the eyes of the seven and eight year olds who scoffed at the idea of a five year old doing what they were too scared to. However, it were their taunts and jeers that'd made her all the more determined. And now, here she stood; barefoot on the cold, rough stone. She had a one piece bathing suit on, and shaking slightly, through the chill of the sunset air equally as the fear of plummeting to the water below. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back to her waist, already wavy and dark from her escapades in the water before the gauntlet was thrown down to jump from the rock.

Faith eyed the horizon. She could imagine the people in the city, laughing at her, shunning her, calling her a chicken for running away from the quarry. She couldn't have that. She was Faith, she was fearless! She hardened her eyes and pushed her chin up, eyeing up the horizon and city of imaginary enemies as she did so. 'This is it'. She thought to herself, determined and commanding even to herself. 'You're doing it!'

She emptied her mind of all thoughts, of all doubts, worries and qualms and forced her legs to move. They bent, moving one in front of the other, gaining speed as she went on along the length of the stone. It only took a couple of steps until she was at its end. With nothing left to think of, she threw herself of the rock, to the collective gasp of the onlookers. She carried on for a few feet longer before she seemed to stop dead in the middle of the air. For what seemed like minutes rather than split seconds she stayed motionless before she began hurtling towards the water, her knees raised to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. Finally, with an almighty splash she hit the water, and the audience erupted in a fury of claps and cheers.

When she emerged from the water, Faith found herself the focus of adulation in the quarry. Suddenly, everyone wanted to be near the fearless Faith. On that day, she became a legend. Tomorrow she would become a bigger one, for a different reason…

It was in a dark warehouse that the vampires met him. It was almost completely bare, save for a few wooden crates. The large windows at the top of the tall building allowed the blue light from the street lights outside through, illuminating certain parts of the warehouse in soft, revealing light and the rest in total darkness. The figure himself, sitting upon a throne of crates, was masked in darkness, making his entire presence glow ominously.

For a long while he sat motionlessly, looking at a point of the room that escaped all visible realms of reality. Finally, he spoke, monotone and commanding. "Show me."

The sudden speech broke the deafening silence and almost made the vampire jump from his skin. After the hesitation, the vampire looked behind himself and backed away nervously to allow the vampire behind him through.

Like a worshipper offering sacrifice to his messier, the vampire stepped forward through the parting sea of vampires with Tara in his arms, drooping around his arms like a silk sheet with no visible blemishes.

With something finally grabbing his attention, the vampire atop the crates stepped from the shadows, revealing himself. It was Lucius. He strolled toward the vampire, his height never changing, as if he floated rather than walked, until he was standing over Tara, looking at her in the vampire's arms.

Hesitantly, one of the only hesitant moves the vampire had made in two millenniums, he crept his hand from his body and brushed her cheek with his fingers. "Finally." He whispered, a slight smile brushing his face. "I knew they'd make you beautiful."

He looked back up at the vampire holding her momentarily before gazing back upon the blonde in his arms. "How long?"

"Good." Lucius nodded before holding his arms out expectedly. Picking up on his train of thought, the vampire offered no hesitations in gently passing the blonde into the ancient vampire's arms, careful to make sure she sustain absolutely no damage whatsoever.

"Neither her nor the Power half sustained any damage in the encounter." The henchman informed him, the thought suddenly striking him.

Lucius' head darted up suddenly. "But she was there?" Lucius demanded, furious at the thought that the Power half wasn't at the kidnapping. "She saw the Benevolent half being taken by vampires."

Lucius sighed in relief then gazed back at the blonde girl he now held in his arms, as light as air to the vampire. "You've been successful." He didn't glance back up at the gang of vampires, but merely continued to stare at the witch. "You're dismissed."

With a nod of his head, the vampire turned away, followed by the rest of the vampires. The two vampires at the doors to the warehouse opened them, allowing the gang of bloodsuckers to walk unrestricted out of the warehouse, proud at having achieved their task.

"Get into your positions. I'll take care of her." He nodded down at Tara, speaking to the vampires behind him in the darkness.

At their cue, they stepped out into visibility. The two figures came out, leather clad and eyes locked to the back of Lucius' head in hate. Their pale skin shone like moonlight in the dark, and their hair, one red and one blonde, came down their the shoulders with streaks of darkness entwining their locks. Their faces were shifted, marring their delicate teenage faces with demonic features.

Ethan watched with a nonchalant eye as Angel and Spike locked the shackles into place, attaching Ethan to the wall in the basement rather than the main lobby.

"Isn't as nice as the last place." Ethan looked up at Giles, who stood above him, watching as the vampires shackled him down. "I don't see why you had to move me."

"After what you did with Tara you're lucky to have all your pieces." Giles responded dangerously. "I don't want your presence to upset her any further."

"You just don't want reminding that you're going to have to gut the girl." Ethan's smirk was ripped right off his face by a downward punch by the platinum blonde on his right.

"You want to keep that mouth of yours shut." Spike warned him as she stood up, followed by Angel at either side of the watcher. "You happen to be alone in a room with two vicious monsters who've killed an untold number of people and a man who happens to hate you a great deal and is more than capable of giving you a good killing."

Giles hadn't listened to Spike's warning, but had merely stared down at the Englishman, who was now bound to the wall and slumped on the ground. "No one's dying before you are, Ethan. Certainly not Willow or Tara."

"Then we all die." Ethan's head tilted with no apparent preference. He shrugged. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

With nothing else to argue, Giles turned on his heels and went back upstairs, followed by the two vampires, leaving the middle aged sorcerer shackled alone with the empty steel cage that still stood from when they needed the knowledge of Angelus.

Upon entering the lobby, Giles saw Karen pacing the marble floor nervously and everyone else shifting about anxiously, as if they felt guilty. With a quick look around the room, he could see the reason; Willow and Tara were still nowhere to be seen.

"What's wrong?" He asked simply because he thought he should, even though he was sure he already knew the answer.

"I didn't lose them." She snapped back at the brunette slayer, before frowning to herself and turning to Giles. "They just…went too fast for me." She admitted, ruefully.

Before Karen got a chance to retort, Giles jumped in. "Kennedy, please." He admonished. He had had enough, and wasn't prepared to listen to slayers bickering when there were much more important things at stake. He looked around to fully regard everyone in the room. "They can't have gone far. If we disperse now I'm sure they can be found before any harm befalls them…"

"THEY'VE GOT TARA!" Willow charged into the room, screeching in panic as she did. "Vampires took Tara!"

"Vampires?" Buffy's ears perked at the mention of her natural enemies, and she was soon on her toes.

"I don't know." Willow breathed quickly, looking as if she were about to cry from distress. Her mind searched blindly for information that could be of any use, but everything in her mind kept returning to the one truth; that vampires had taken Tara. It all left Willow feeling more and more useless and closer to breaking down in tears.

"How many were there?" Giles tried his best to be gentle, seeing how distressed the hacker was. However, they needed to move as quickly as possible, and they needed her information to do so.

She took a deep breath and forced her mind to focus. 'Mad, insane brain can wait. We need rational, Tara-finding brain.' Willow admonished to herself as she breathed in and out, allowing the air to circulate properly, energizing her brain. Finally in a place where she could be of some use, Willow allowed the speed of her mouth to finally be of some use. "There were about twenty of them. We were at the alley down the side of sixth between the deli and the pizza place. It didn't look like they were trying to hurt either of us. Some of them were just slowing me down while the rest of them carried Tara to a couple of cars. I don't know what kind they were-cars, I mean-but they were black and didn't have any number plates. They got to the Apple bank opposite that bookshop with the wooden dogs in the window by the time I lost them."

It took Giles a couple of seconds to fully organize Willow's rambling until his mind came up with a plan of action, and he began strolling purposefully towards the weapons cabinet. "Okay, Vi you stay here with Lorne, Dawn, Cordelia and Fred. Everyone else, pair up and search the city. Willow, go with Buffy and show her exactly where you were attacked. Everyone check back here by midnight." He spoke as he collected weapons, passing them to others as he did. By the time he'd stopped talking, he was walking towards the exit, followed by a gang of slayers, vampires and demon hunters.

"Why?" Kennedy spoke out, not having moved an inch since Willow first crashed into the lobby.

Kennedy's tiny, one word question stopped everyone in their tracks. Almost comically, everyone turned their heads in synchronicity to the slayer, looking at her like she were a ten-headed demon. It was Willow that stepped towards her, challenging the slayer coolly. "What?"

Kennedy sighed at Willow almost pitifully. "I'm sorry Willow but someone's got to say it."

Willow's jaw clenched and her fists balled until they roared white as she went over in her mind the possibilities of what Kennedy could be implying. "Say what?"

"That English guy thinks one of you have got to die." Kennedy reasoned, trying to make her argument sound rational and reasonable to a room full of people she knew wouldn't like it. "I happen to think he's probably right. Maybe those vamps are doing us a favor…"

"Kennedy." Giles chided, not quite believing what the young slayer was saying. He understood how she may not like Tara, but this was taking things too far.

"I'm just saying." She sighed, rolling her eyes at how everyone seemed to be looking at her darkly, except from most of the newly turned slayers. "I mean, we've got a choice; we can't let everyone in the world die. So that leaves either Willow or Tara. And seeing as Tara is supposed to be dead anyway…"

Kennedy didn't get to finish her argument. Willow had made her way towards the slayer as she talked, and struck her soundly across the face, sending her crashing down to the floor, cupping her face in amazement.

"Willow…" She gasped. She, nor anyone else, for that matter, could believe the petite redhead had actually attacked the slayer.

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH, KENNEDY! JUST SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Willow screamed to the flabbergasted girl, not noticing the equally shocked expressions behind her. "I don't care if you don't like Tara. I don't care if you're jealous of her, or if you think she's no good for me, or if you want me all to yourself. I don't care about any of that, because right now Tara is in trouble. Tara is the love of my life, and I have already seen her die once; I WILL NOT SEE HER DIE AGAIN!" She stopped to recompose herself, breathing in deeply to stop the tears from falling. "Now, if you don't want to help, then don't help. But don't you dare put her or anyone else I love in danger, or I swear I will never speak to you again. Is that clear?"

Kennedy nodded once, slowly. She was furious at Willow's screaming, but kept her emotions in check, hiding them from Willow at all costs. It wasn't really Willow she was angry at, and she'd never want the redhead to think that she was.

"Good." Willow turned back to the doors, strolling out casually, not watching to see whether or not the others followed her. They did, after having picked up their chins from the floor from witnessing Willow's shocking display.

They marched out of the hotel like an army, marching towards war. They paired off as they moved, each gripping their respective weapons tightly, ready to engage battle with unknown foes. None of them saw the figure of Lucius in the shadows.

He recognized the redhead as she moved towards the blonde slayer. His eyes studied her carefully. As the army of demon fighters disbanded into the streets of LA, he stepped out from the shadows. He still held Tara in his arms. It was all his master plan. He glanced through the glass doors of the lobby and saw that they'd kept some people there to guard their dwellings. However, this was not a problem.

With a simple thought, his and Tara's bodies raised from the ground, lifting high up until he reached the window to the fifth floor. He could practically smell the bed where the Benevolent half slept; he could sense it. And it was on this floor. Gracefully, he pushed the window open and glided in. He then moved throughout floor, traveling up and down the corridor, feeling the atmosphere behind each door until he sensed where she belonged.

With another thought, the door swung open. He barely regarded the furniture in the room, just moving straight towards the bedroom. Once there, he gently laid the blonde on the bed and stepped back. As he regarded the girl, he thought how she resembled an angel, lying dead in her coffin, awaiting to be buried and carried off to Heaven. She was completely serene. If all goes to plan, she would be like that for real soon enough…

With his work done and the girl back at the hotel, Lucius floated back out of the window and back to the ground. Now he just had to wait for the vampire counterparts to do their part, and he'd have his ingredient…

The scene was picturesque in its perfection. A lone oak tree protruded from the ground, reaching far into the bright blue sky that cast over the deep green of the grass that spanned endlessly without a hint of blemish. A family of birds flew gently across the sky while their unseen comrades chirped happily.

Leaning against the mammoth oak tree was Kennedy, a blissful smile plastered on her face. Leaning against her just as she was against the tree was her girlfriend, Therese. Her sandy blonde hair spread across the brunette's lap and her flowery dress rode up her thigh slightly, but she didn't care enough to pull it down. A red and white chequered rug was spread out beside them with a picnic basket on top of it. Several empty plates and plastics cups were next to the basket, as they had foregone packing them away for a little impromptu make-out session. An hour ago. But they'd long since forgotten about the picnic they'd just had and just enjoyed the feeling of being together.

It was a feeling they both took every opportunity to relish; being together. They had wanted to get together for months now, but there was always something in the way. One of the main things was Therese's reluctance to get involved again. After her previous break-up, she wasn't expecting to get together with anyone again for a very long time. However, Kennedy was so sweet, beautiful and fun. She instantly fell in love with the girl and forgot all about her disastrous break-up with Hannah. A few days ago they'd finally gotten together, and they'd never been happier. After two days of constant love making they'd finally (and reluctantly) ventured from the bed and into the outside world, agreeing to have a picnic. It had gone brilliantly, with them equally as wrapped up in each other as they had been since they'd gotten together anyway.

Kennedy glanced down at the content blonde in her lap as she heard her sigh in joy. The feeling of eliciting such a reaction from the girl swelled Kennedy's heart. "Was that a sigh I heard?" She teased mockingly, a smirk caressing the side of her face.

"Hmm." Therese groaned and buried her face into Kennedy's stomach like it were the softest pillow in the world.

From what she could see of Therese's face, she was sharing the same grin that was on Kennedy's own. "Is that a yes?"

"Could be." Therese tried her best not to smile, wanting to feign seriousness and best her lover in the game. Unfortunately, the current situation of her life made not smiling an impossibility.

Kennedy's hands began a gentle, teasing and yet still profoundly arousing caress of Therese's sides. The subtlety of the movement only made the effect stronger on the blonde girl, and she physically shivered in delight as her girlfriend brushed her palm over her tummy and allowed her fingertips to flicker against the side of her breast. Her breath caught and her eyes lidded at the girl's ministrations; suddenly, the beautiful landscape surrounding her was lost on the girl, and the entire world was made up of herself, the girl behind her and her fingertips.

"Now what could you possibly be sighing about?" Kennedy's eyes sparkled as she went over the possibilities of how this conversation could go. Her eyes dilated and her breathing deepened as images of Therese beneath her, above her, totally encapsulating her in her naked warmth filled her mind; feeling her hand glide down her abdomen and between her thighs…

"I don't know…maybe baking a cake?" Therese sensed the signs coming from her lover and recognized them with pinpoint accuracy. It was her determination to leave the girl until she was completely on edge that kept her from completely giving into her own desires.

Kennedy too recognized how her girlfriend's mind worked; she knew that Therese was teasing her, drawing out her frustrations and desires until she was ready to pop. But she wouldn't be beaten. Keeping her subtle hand movements up, Kennedy shifted her left leg, dragging Therese's flimsy dress up still further, massaging the skin just above the knee with her foot and allowing the gentle breeze the flew across the scenery to tickle her thigh without the restrictions of cloth to keep it at bay. The very act was working Kennedy up even more, but she knew it was having the same effect of Therese by how the blonde's body reacted, with perspiration being released in an effort to cool the sudden heat build-up between her thighs, where the barely noticeable wind was having a very noticeable effect but wasn't strong enough to actually cool the molten that now flowed freely.

"Oh." Kennedy retorted innocently, so innocently that it actually managed to further Therese's arousal. "I thought it might've been something of a…sexual nature." She spoke naively, as if it were the most foreign thing in the world to the young girl.

Therese was breathing so deeply that the breaths she took were now audible several feet away, but for the purpose of the game they were both faking ignorance, as it was making both girls more and more frustrated, which of course was their mutual objective. Therese wormed her fingers into the soft dirt by her thighs, gripping the soil and grass tightly as if her frustrations could be fought out of her body.

"Oh?" Kennedy asked hopefully, smiling slightly. She smelt victory just around the corner, but she was careful not to react to strongly, or Therese may be tempted to fight back.

Therese moved slightly, gyrating her lower back into Kennedy's crotch, predicting the reaction it would have on the girl. "Mm-hmm." She groaned gravely, extricating her fingers from the ground gently caressing her own neck with her fingertips and her sides alongside Kennedy's own fingertips. "I can imagine myself…and my lover. We kiss, and thrust against each other. I tear off their shirt with my teeth and lick, and kiss, and nip the best chest in the world, listening to their moans as I run my fingers through their long, brown hair."

"What happens next?" Kennedy breathed out, not having realized that Therese had turned the table around on her.

"What?" Kennedy's eyes bulged and her body jumped up slightly. By the time the shock of what Therese had said had started to die down slightly, she realized the blonde laying on top of her was laughing hysterically. Realizing she'd been had, Kennedy seized Therese's thrashing arm and spun her and both of them around. "Right!" She shouted playfully, rolling them until Therese had her back against the grass, a few feet away from the oak tree, with Kennedy on top of her, pinning her against the grass. "Going for the Y side of things now, missy?"

"Well, let's see what I can do about that." Kennedy bent down to capture Therese in a searing kiss, allowing her frustration and desire the seep through in a flow of undiluted passion. The passion was blinding, and left both girls gasping for breath, and gasping for more. "How's that?" Kennedy breathed out.

"I think I need more convincing." Therese replied, staring deeply into her girlfriend's deep, hazel eyes, desperate to feel the warmth of the lips that floated mere centimeters from her own.

"Okay." Kennedy dropped the weight of her head, mashing her lips to Therese's. They soon forgot all about the game they were playing, and the danger of being out in the open in the middle of the day, and began to lose themselves completely in each other.

Ten minutes later their lips were still merged together, although their limbs were entangled further, and their hands hidden from the world in the recesses of the other's body. It was from this vulnerable, beautiful and blissful position that they were so viciously torn from.

The foreign voice served to repel the girls from each other as though they'd just realized that they weren't gay after all. They stared, wide eyed and gasping at the figure who'd spoken. Against the serene, perfect blue of the sky he looked completely silhouetted; a six foot tall black figure, with a gruff voice, wide shoulders and a trench coat which hid no doubt enormous hands. As the girls focused more on the man's features, they noticed that he looked even more intimidating than his silhouette appeared. His lower face was covered in overgrown stubble that could've almost have passed into a very short beard. His eyes dented deep into his face, covering any visible color in shadow, and his large nose crooked down suddenly as though it had been broken, although he looked as though he were the kind of man who'd keep fighting and only noticed his nose had broken at all hours later upon closer inspection. His head contained the same stubble on his face, maybe a bit longer so it may be constituted as hair, but is was prickly nonetheless, and it was impossible to determine what color it may be should it be given the chance to actually grow. The more the girls stared at him, the more it seemed his mouth had an indefinite slight smile at interrupting two girls in the throws of passion. However, it may just be paranoia; the man's expression was so slight that it was impossible to determine on way or another. Besides, it was something else that Kennedy and Therese were focusing on. The man was not alone; there were five others, almost exact copies of the man in front, wearing the same hair style, trench coat and disgusting, invisible slight smile.

"I have a message for you." Slowly, as if he were doing a routine job, he reached into the inside pocket of his trench coat, opening it enough to put his hand through but not enough to reveal what he had concealed. Indeed, with the size and nature of the trench coat, it could've concealed almost anything.

"From who?" Her eyes darted from where his arm disappeared into the coat to his face, waiting for it to flinch, which never came.

As smoothly as he would light a cigarette, telling them without any doubt that it was indeed a routine job, he pulled a metal baseball bat from his trench coat, which closed of its own accord once the bat was removed, and tapped the end of it in his other, cupped hand. "From Hannah."

It wasn't the baseball bat that pushed Therese into panic-mode; it was the mention of her ex-girlfriend. Therese knew Hannah could get a little bit jealous, but she doubted she would go through such means just because she had a new girlfriend; she wasn't THAT jealous. What was much more likely was that Therese had unconsciously done something that proved costly to Hannah before she knew her girlfriend communicated with the kind of people she did. It was when she found out that Hannah knew about organized murders and beatings going on underneath her nose that Therese broke up with her. Although Hannah took the news badly, she eventually let it go, and Therese didn't think Hannah had suddenly decided she didn't like getting dumped. After all, Hannah wasn't the type to just 'change her mind' or make rash decisions, and they'd been split up for almost half a year now. No, what was much more likely is Hannah had recently found out something that Therese did and was very unhappy about it, and while she had no idea what that could be or even if she was correct, there was one thing she was absolutely certain about-a certain course of action needed to be taken, and right now, there was only one kind of action she could think of…

As accurate and well-thought out as her scheme was , the thugs were too quick and too many for them, and they were doomed the moment the thugs came. Therese shot off like a rocket as she screamed to Kennedy, and was able to get a few feet from the attackers instantly. Unfortunately, Kennedy's position made her much more vulnerable, and by the time she'd made her first step in pursuit of Therese two of the thugs were on her, tackling her to the ground and essentially subduing her. She screamed as she went down until her face hit the ground with a painful 'thud'.

When she heard Kennedy's desperate screech, Therese stopped dead and spun on her heels to see her girlfriend hit the ground. Sadly, even the momentary lapse in her flee was enough for the other three men who were after her. The second she had turned around the man brandishing the baseball bat had been able to get to her. Barely breaking in his stride, he swung the bat around, the very end of it smashing into her face. She came down to the right, following the path of blood that burst from her face.

Kennedy raised her face at just the right time to see her girlfriend struck across the face with a metal baseball bat.

Her own face was dripping with blood, but Kennedy failed to notice. She tried desperately to push herself up, but her struggles only managed to make the two men to strengthen their hold. Suddenly, one of the men pressed his knee into her back. Kennedy howled in pain as he pressed himself entirely onto her back and the other one held her hands together.

Meanwhile, the man with the baseball bat continued to pound Therese further into the ground while the two remaining men kicked her, none of them listening as Kennedy screeched and sobbed behind them. Therese merely whimpered and gasped as they beat her savagely, watching as skin tore and blood poured from wounds they'd created and her skin began to swell and become purple until the skin could take no more and split.

Kennedy could do nothing but watch as her girlfriend was savagely beaten, maybe to death, while they held her down. She was weak, and helpless against men their size. Utterly helpless. Tears mingled with blood, blurring her view and offering her a very minute mercy. However, she could still hear the sounds of the men kicking and beating Therese, and in a way it was worse not being able to watch, not being able to check that she was still moving. She'd forgotten about her own pain of having the man dig his knee into her back. She'd become numb, watching as her girlfriend was beaten apart by thugs hired by her ex-girlfriend. And she could only watch as, for all she knew, Therese was dying in front of her.

It wasn't too long before the men thought they'd done enough and ran away, leaving Kennedy essentially unharmed. It had taken months in hospital for Therese to get better, but Kennedy hadn't been there for most of that time; the day Therese regained her voice she broke up with Kennedy, fearful of what Hannah may do to her. Kennedy begged and shed many tears, trying desperately to convince Therese to change her mind, but the blonde was stubborn, and asked Kennedy not to see her again. With great reluctance, Kennedy agreed, and closed Therese from her life and mind, desperate to keep herself from shedding any more tears.

But she could never forget that feeling of being helpless; weak and pathetic as this stranger, as if from no where, swept into her life and destroyed everything, and almost killed the girl she loved…

Following Willow's attack on her earlier, Kennedy decided to pair up with Faith to find the blonde witch, although she spent the majority of the time voicing the fact that she didn't want to be looking for her.

"I mean, who does she think she is? She just sweeps in here and turns my own girlfriend against me!"

"Kennedy!" Faith turned to the slayer aggravated, having listened to basically the same argument for almost an hour now. "Look, we can bitch all we want later. But if we aren't quiet there ain't going to be anyone to bitch about, and I for one don't want to be hanging out with a mopping redhead for the next few weeks. Okay?"

"Fine." Kennedy rolled her eyes and followed behind Faith, biting her lip whenever a new thought came into her mind.

It was only a few minutes later, when they entered into an alleyway, that they heard a noise; a squelching and slurping of vampires feeding.

"Where's it coming from?" Kennedy's head spun around, but the alleyway looked completely empty, yet the sounds seemed to be so close.

"Up here." Faith found a nearby fire ladder that hung from the nearby building and climbed up, followed by Kennedy. The building was small and it only took a moment to climb up onto it and jump onto the large, open rooftop area.

"What's up?" Kennedy heard Faith's shocked gasp as she jumped onto the rooftop after her. Faith tried to conceal her view, but she'd already seen by the time her feet hit the roof. Her hand rose to her mouth as the air escaped her lungs and tears sprung to her eyes. "Oh…" The physical impact the sight had on her reduced her immediate vocabulary to just this tiny expression.

On the rooftop was Willow and Tara, or rather what used to be Willow and Tara. Willow was half lying on the rooftop, half leaning against Tara, even more pale than usual and a blank expression on her face. Her mouth was slightly open and her eyelids drooped, just as the rest of her did. She was clearly dead. Behind her was Tara, suckling hungrily on Willow's neck. She lapped eagerly at the blood that escaped from the new wound she'd made in Willow's throat, sustaining her new features; although her eyes were down, drinking in the deceased girl's form, and her blonde hair fell over her face, hiding her new features before dragging in the blood on Willow's neck, Faith and Kennedy could clearly see what'd happened to the blonde witch. Her face was deformed, with ridges and bumps formed across her forehead. Eventually she raised her eyes, finally noticing the two slayers on the rooftop with her. It was then that Faith and Kennedy saw her eyes; where there was once blue there was now a deadly orange glow, predatory and deadly. What had happened was clear; they'd turned Tara, and she'd found Willow.

Tara stood up, not caring as Willow's head slipped down her body, marring Tara's clothes in blood, before hitting the ground in a deathly, echoing thud, telling the slayers without any doubt that the redhead was limp. However, Tara didn't care. She looked down at Willow, then back up at the slayers, an unmistakably evil grin on her face that showed only her fangs. Her chin was coated in Willow's blood, and her fangs dripped at a leisurely pace in the girl's life-force. Tara's tongue snaked from her mouth, sliding across her chin and gathering the blood on her chin, pinning the slayers in her gaze as she tasted the sweet plasma on her tongue, making her actions equally seductive as they were callous.

Her entire stature was different. Her fingers wiggled at her side in anticipation, slowly yet mischievously, almost as if she were teasing an invisible lover. Her chest puffed out, accentuating her breasts and making her appear more intimidating than ever before. While her hair masking parts of her face used to appear coy and shy, it was now dark and dangerous, giving her an air of mystery and deception.

"You…" Kennedy breathed out. Her face transformed from an expression of shock and devastation and into an expression of anger and hatred when she took in Tara's proud stature. Her voice had been regained, and with it a dangerous growl like a tiger who'd just found her cubs ripped apart and the claws of a predator. "You…killed her…"

"You're not as stupid as you look." Tara's smirk curved upwards at one side, revealing beyond doubt that it was indeed Tara.

Kennedy's breath quickened and her teeth scrapped against each other. Her eyes flickered and her fingers curved until her hands resembled some kind of claw. "It's about time I did this."

Without a second thought she launched herself forward at the blonde witch turned vampire. Tara was quick enough to block her first punch, and just like that they launched themselves into a one on one; Faith was still too shocked to make a move.

Kennedy swung at Tara, but the blonde was too quick, and merely batted the fists away. She swung her knee into Kennedy's side, sending her staggering off to the left. Tara followed her back and swung herself around in a roundhouse kick, knocking Kennedy off to the side. Kennedy landed with absolute precision, and she fell immediately into a forward roll back onto her feet. Tara was coming back towards her, but Kennedy quickly swung herself around, and struck the blonde across the face in a backhand. She followed it up with a couple of more punches, forcing the vampire backwards. With Tara left vulnerable by the punches, Kennedy jumped slightly into the air to deliver a kick into Tara's stomach, forcing her to tumble backwards.

Tara was able to keep her footing, but only just. However, Faith took the opportunity to join in on the fight, and was waiting behind her. As she tumbled back into her, Faith seized Tara across the neck and threw her behind her across her shoulder. Tara was left on her back, dazed. However, her vision cleared up enough just in time to see Faith's stake coming down on her. On reactions alone, Tara stopped the stake just inches above her heart by grabbing Faith's wrists. She then swung her legs up and kicked them up into Faith's body, launching her over Tara's body and across the rooftop. Faith only just managed to stop herself from falling from the rooftop completely.

Tara quickly jumped back onto her feet, turning around in time to engage Kennedy, who was coming up behind her. She took hold of Kennedy's wrist and pulled it towards herself, throwing the slayer off balance and allowing Tara to finish up by kicking her in the chest, knocking Kennedy back away. Faith was waiting just behind, but Tara had already picked up her momentum, and launched straight into a roundhouse kick, knocking Faith back away.

Unfortunately for Tara, her kick to Kennedy wasn't as effective as she might've liked, and Kennedy was back an instant later, raining her fists down on Tara and following them up with her own roundhouse kick. It knocked Tara into Faith's own attacks, and Tara hadn't a chance against Faith's furious punches. After a few hits, Faith kicked Tara backwards into Kennedy. Kennedy responded instantly by seizing Tara's arms, pinning the vampire's back to her front. Faith was about to start punching Tara again, this time without the restriction of Tara's arms, but the instant Faith was close enough, Tara pushed herself against Kennedy and forced her legs up onto Faith's shoulders, scissoring Faith's head between her shins. However, Faith and Kennedy were ready, and with a push of Tara's shoulder blades from Kennedy, and a thrust of Tara's waist by Faith, they flipped the vampire up and over Faith's head, colliding painfully on the concrete of the rooftop.

Tara quickly rolled herself back up onto her feet and looked back at her attackers. Faith and Kennedy had their heads down and their eyes raised, ready to pounce. Behind them she saw Willow's limp, lifeless body. She knew she couldn't beat the slayers, but it didn't matter; she'd completed her mission.

Her lips curled back into a smirk and she blew the slayers a kiss mockingly. "Bye, bye." And with this sweet, but in the circumstances malicious, farewell she leapt from the rooftop to the ground below, running off into the city.

Kennedy ran to the edge of the rooftop with the intent of going after the blonde witch. However, the second she saw the ground, Tara was no where in sight. "Damn it! That bitch!" She cursed loudly into the night sky, slamming her palms down on the concrete side of the building.

Faith's gentle yet urgent voice brought Kennedy's attention behind her, where Faith was looking down in earnest. "Willow!" Kennedy gasped and ran straight to the redhead's side, dropping to her knees before she even got there, sliding the final distance. She gathered up the hacker's head, brushing the red hair from her face. "Come on, sweetie. Don't do this to me."

"How is she?" Faith watched from her standing position, unsure of what action to take.

Kennedy 's fingers searched her neck for any sign of a pulse. Failing that, she grabbed the girl's wrist, still resting her head in her lap. When she still found nothing, she checked her chest for a heartbeat, desperate to prove to herself that she'd been mistaken. But, yet again, she found nothing. "No…" She breathed out, her eyes watering.

Reluctantly but inevitably, Kennedy guided Willow's head back to the floor, being sure to make her movements as gentle as possible. "I'm so sorry." She leaned in and gently brushed her lips against Willow's, cupping the redhead's cheek as a tear trickled down her own.

Faith watched as Kennedy leaned back away from Willow. She waited a few moments to catch her breath, to fully comprehend what had happened. Willow had died. Tara had killed her. With her mind made up, Kennedy calmly and collectively stood up and walked away purposefully.

As she took in the words, Faith had to wait to fully digest the meaning behind them. Kennedy was going to kill Tara. "Kennedy, wait!" She was unsure why she wanted the younger slayer to stop, but it just felt like the right thing to say.

Kennedy was just about to go down the fire escape when Faith's words hit her. She spun around and her eyes narrowed at the intrusion to her mission. "What?" She snapped, angrily.

Suddenly, Faith realized what she had to do; what must be done. Not just for herself, but for the entire world. She would no longer be an outcast, the kid that acted tough but had no one. She too had a purpose. They would accept her now. All she needed was a mission.

Long after her spectacular display at the quarry Faith was sitting at home on the brown, heavily stained sofa. She'd promised to do it again tomorrow to dismiss claims some of the kids made that she wouldn't be able to do it again.

Once she'd gotten home the sky was pitch black. It was no surprise to her to find that her mother was out; she usually was. So, with no body else in the household, she was content to sink into the grotesque sofa that dominated the living room of the grubby-walled apartment, careful to avoid the part where the stitching had come apart and the stuffy stuck out, as she knew from experience that hidden within that stuffing were springs with sharp edges, and she had already cut herself on them many a time.

She sat staring into the low definition flickering TV that sat on a specifically designed plastic and unsteady looking tray on wheels, not taking in any of what was going on. It was stuck on some game show, the set of which was far too colorful for her liking and the contestants far too stupid yet sickeningly over-enthusiastic. However, it was the host that was the worst thing. His teeth shone with a shockingly bright white which contrasted starkly with his skin, which was far too orange than it really should be. On top of his head sat a dead, blackish gray rat that was pretending to be a toupee, and from the host's expression he thought it was a darn good toupee too. He spoke loudly, quickly and with even more false, over-the-top enthusiasm than the contestants, rallying the obnoxious audience into the streams of laughter into his hilariously unfunny, self absorbing gags. The whole thing almost made Faith vomit in disgust, which, considering she was only five years old, was quite a feat. However, the fact remained that she wanted some form of escapism from the dreary pit that was her young life, and this boorish, mind-numbing game show offered her that escape; even if it was merely an escape into a world where she would gladly beat herself to death with eyeballs, it was still an escape.

A slam at the door jolted Faith out of the world of ridiculously easy questions and hilariously over-done fake tans and back into reality. The front door not only rattled the frame, but the frame in turn rattled the whole apartment, making the walls shake like the flimsy pieces of card they essentially were. Her mother was home.

The woman stumbled into the living room doorway, leaning against its frame while her hand gripped at a half-empty bottle of vodka and her jacket hung around her upper arms, barely staying attached to her. "There's my little fire cracker!" Her words were slurred as they stumbled out of her grinning mouth. "Come give your mommy a great, big hug!"

Faith stayed where she was, her eyes glued to the Oompa-loompa reject on the screen. Her arms were folded and her mouth formed into a small pout, telling her mother she meant business. Her eyes sneaked away from the television set and over to her mother, gauging her reactions, until they met her mother's own eyes and they flicked back to the television screen hastily.

"What's a matter?" Her words continued to tumble out in a way that was barely coherent, but at the same time they had now inherited a dark sting.

Faith's eyes, pout, and arms softened and all drooped down, pulling her head down slightly as well until she was studying her own knees. However, she still refused herself allowance to look at her own mother. "You've been drinking…haven't you?" She asked as curiously and as sweetly as she could manage. However, she was really on the edge of tears; her mother's constant drinking devastated her, and she hated it whenever she returned home to find she wasn't there. It always meant she was out drinking, which meant eventually she'd come home, drunk…

"Oh." Faith's mother nodded as she took in what her daughter's actions meant for the first time. "I see." She turned around slowly, grasping the frame to hold herself up. And then, just as Faith gave out a sigh of relief, she spun back around and threw the bottle of vodka at the television set. It smashed straight through the glass, sending shards from both objects exploding out into the surrounding air, along with vodka and sparks of electricity.

Faith shrieked and jumped off the sofa in fright, cutting her thigh on one of the springs that protruded from the sofa in her haste. The second Faith's feet hit the brown, carpeted floor her mother seized her wrists with both hands and began shaking her child furiously, not caring that the little girl had blood trickling down her leg and over her foot.

"You think you can tell me what I can and cannot do now, huh?" She ignored her daughter's cries and continued to shriek in her face as her long, brown hair thrashed in all directions. "Well you fucking can't, you here me? I can do whatever the fuck I want to, you little bitch!" She felt the alcohol catching up with her, the nausea hitting her head and making the world spin with a tremendous velocity. Deciding to give her a break, she flung Faith behind herself and towards the door, not looking at whether or not the five year old tripped over or hurt herself. "Just go to bed!" She demanded as she dropped to her knees and rested her chin on the arm of the sofa.

Faith turned back to her mother, watching through her teary eyes as her mother vomited over the seat of the sofa, the seat where she'd been sitting only moments before, and where she'd probably sit later on. She wanted to go to her, to kiss her goodnight. However, she was scared of her. In a way she despised her. All she wanted was to be like other children, to have a mother that loved her, to be loved…

Once again she stood on that rock. It was morning now, the air bringing with it an icy chill. Goosebumps emerged along her skin where she'd been swimming as the water evaporated off of her. Along her thigh was the light, pinkish scratch from the sharp spring. Although it didn't hurt on its own, it stung if she touched it, and so she kept her thighs at least partially apart to be sure it didn't rub against her other leg. Beneath the rock, in the quarry, the kids watched, mouths and eyes agape in anticipation just as before. The only difference now was that more had gathered, eager to see the girl rumored to be fearless enough to jump from the tallest rock at the quarry. After this, everyone would want to be her friend. All she had to do was jump.

She stepped back and looked again at the horizon. This time the sky was grayish blue, with none of the beauty it held at sunset. As she eyed the Boston skyline, she could still hear the jives and the taunts, the laughter as everyone witnessed her chickening out on making the jump. But above all she heard her mother. She heard her mother shrieking at her, she saw her furious, hard eyes which held no evidence that she did or ever did love her. She smelt the pungent alcohol on her breath and sting of her mother's nails as they dug into her arms. It all came back to her.

Underneath the rock, the kids began to grow restless, the ones who hadn't seen the jump the night before believing she'd lost her nerve and had never done it in the first place, while the ones who had already seen her make the jump wondering what could be stalling her on this instance.

Faith tried to force down her mother's horrible, hate-filled words. However, they plagued her, haunted her as they were carried on by the harsh morning breeze. She looked down at the jump she was about to make, and suddenly it all seemed so much bigger. The water looked shallower and more dangerous than before, and the rocks to the side seemed to jut out more and have sharper edges than last time. She felt as if she were a thousand feet high, and the jump was suicidal. And worst of all, there was her mother's voice, telling her how pathetic she was.

Her eyes began to tear up, and her body began to shake. She took a step back from the edge and her palms began to sweat and her heartbeat increased. Faster. And faster. Everything blurred, and the drop seemed insurmountable. Soon, she was shaking uncontrollably, and it was from fear rather than the cold. She soon realized she could feel a warm sensation running down her leg again. At first she thought she was bleeding again, but the real reason soon became apparent; she had wet herself. And as soon as she realized, so did the kids watching.

"She's peeing herself!" One of the dorky, red haired kids laughed excitedly, and then yelled down at the kids in the water, just in case none of them knew. "She's peed herself!"

And then it happened. The entire quarry erupted in laughter. Dreams of grandeur and friendship were gone. Everywhere she turned there were children pointing and laughing at her. She heard the taunts of 'chicken' and something like 'wet pants'. Frankly, she didn't want to know. Bursting into full blown tears, she fled from the quarry, the laughter soon dying down in the distance. However, it didn't stop there. She heard that laughter for the next twenty years.

As she and Willow looked along the streets of LA, Buffy began to realize that the headache she'd been harboring was getting worse and worse with every passing minute she spent with Willow. After breaking the redhead out of her silent, furious reverie she was in after her confrontation with Kennedy, Willow had once again slipped into babble mode, compensating her anxiety for Tara with mindless rambling.

Firstly, Willow showed Buffy exactly where she had been when the vampires attacked and also where the cars went until Willow lost them. However, they had found nothing that could help them in locating the lost blonde, and Willow's mouth hadn't shut for what seemed like at least half an hour straight.

"Wait a minute!" Willow stopped in the middle of some sentence the nature of which Buffy had no idea of with the sudden exclamation. So potent must the thought of been to Willow's mind that it actually made the small hacker stop dead in her tracks, forcing Buffy to turn back around and enquire what was going on (although, admittedly, she did it with more than a little bit of anger coursing through her veins).

"What?" Buffy tried her best to mute her snapping at Willow, but it was really starting to become quite a chore for the slayer when taking into account Willow's constant talking.

"I just thought, what if Tara goes back? To the hotel I mean? What if she goes back and there's people there waiting? People with guns and demons and demons with built in guns and maybe even magic guns and Tara's no match for ordinary guns let alone magic gun totting demons with built in guns!"

"Will!" Buffy grabbed onto Willow's upper arms, fearful that the girl might actually take off if given half the chance. "Dawn, Fred, Cordy, Lorne and Vi are at the hotel."

"So? What's that? That's just three girls, one demon with a shocking dress sense and little else and just one slayer! And what about Ethan? You don't think he's gonna be trying to escape while the monsters attack the hotel and then steal Tara for the council's evil schemes? And besides, Vi can't protect all of them against all the evil nasties in LA and kick their asses at the same time and eventually she'll get tired and lose and then they'll take Tara and its all because I'm stuck out here left ranting to you about how they're going to swoop in and steal Ta-"

"WILL!" Buffy screamed in Willow's face, deciding enough was finally enough. As well as anything else, her face was starting to rival her hair in color, and at their current pace they were never going to find Tara. "Do you want me to drop you off at the hotel and look for Tara solo?"

"You sure?" Willow asked as she panted from her draining rant. Her own babble had gotten herself scared, and she was fearing what not being at the hotel could result in.

"Very much with the definitely." Buffy smirked, ecstatic at the prospect of giving her throbbing her a rest for a moment. "A babbling Willow doesn't really make for a great finding Tara partner, anyway."

"Oh my God, I was slowing you down?" Willow's eyes widened again as she slipped back into panic mode. "Why didn't you tell me I was slowing you down? Why didn't you take me back earlier? You could've already found Tara and you haven't because of me and my-"

Buffy clamped her hand over Willow's mouth, effectively silencing her babble once and for all. "Can you save the spaz attack for when you're back at the hotel?"

"Mm-hmm" Willow tried to say but, finding her words lose themselves in Buffy's palm, settled for nodding in agreement.

"Good." Buffy smiled. "Then let's go." She took hold of Willow's arm and dragged her back in the direction of the hotel, as she was fairly certain that in all her ramblings, it was very unlikely that Willow had remembered the way back to the hotel. She was right.

It was dark inside. Pitch black. She could hear the words of the outside, shrieks and cries, she felt as she was hugged and kissed. But it was all from a distance. None of it was real. The sounds were muffled, trying desperately to reach her but never quite reaching. But it will never reach her; she knew that. She was lost.

She could hear them in the dark. She could hear the voice of her father as he beat her mother. She could hear every bone that cracked in her bone. She heard him roared as he rained down the punches and kicks on her. Her mother was begging at her to help her, to come out of the shadows and get her father off her. But she didn't know how to get out. The shouts and the screams wouldn't stop, and were confusing her, keeping her from coming out. And she knew if she made a sound, her father would find her and hurt her. And it wasn't just her father; the dark was full of things waiting to hurt her. Things were slivering and crawling in the dark, wanting to hurt her.

And then she heard Willow. Her beloved Willow, and she was shrieking in pain, calling out for her to help against some unseen foe. Was it a demon? Glory? Her father or her brother? She wished she knew, she wish she could help her, but she couldn't. She was helpless. She was back in the cupboard, five again, listening as her loved ones were beaten and killed, and it was all her fault, yet she couldn't help.

Underneath all the pain, the screams and shouting, she knew what was going on. Her mind was gone, and she was locked inside. But none of that mattered. All she knew was that Willow was in pain. Not only Willow, but her mother, and it was probably her that was hurting them. She wished beyond measure she could stop it, she wished she even had the choice to lay down her life to stop Willow's pain, but she didn't have the ability to take her own life. She didn't have the ability to do anything. Everything she was, her mind, her memories had been robbed from her. She couldn't even remember exact things, couldn't remember her and Willow's first kiss, drawing pictures for her mother-her memories, the most precious things she had in the world had been robbed from her along with all her conscious thoughts, leaving her with only negative memories; the memory of being locked in the cupboard, her father telling her she was bad…she's bad…so bad…

Then she felt it. It wasn't Glory who'd done this to her…it was Willow. Her dear, sweet Willow had done it. She attacked her, taken her mind, her memories. She'd been deluded, Willow had never loved her, not someone as pathetic and useless as her. Willow was just waiting to hurt her, to punish her for being bad. Because she was bad…oh so bad…

Part of her knew she was wrong. Willow loved her with all her heart, just as she loved Willow. But her mind was playing tricks, telling her things, whispering to her in the dark, telling her it was Willow who'd done these things; done them because she deserved them, because she was bad. But it wasn't Willow. Willow would never do that. Willow loved her, that much she remembered, that much she knew. Willow loved her, and she would help her and guide her out of the darkness. And she would be safe again…if only Willow would find her…

With one hand gripping the banister tightly, Tara made her way down the stairs, one shaky step at a time. Below, she could see Dawn, Cordelia and a strange, green demon. However, she remembered him from earlier, and although she didn't recall what exactly he was, she remembered enough to know he was a good guy. So far, no one had noticed her making her way downstairs until she started making her way down the last couple of steps to the ground floor and a pain in her leg made her stumble slightly, not enough to actually fall but enough to make her yelp slightly in pain!

"Tara!" At having made everyone aware of her presence, Dawn was the first person to be at her side, followed by Cordelia. "How'd you get away?"

"Get the poor sugar muffin to the couch." Lorne pointed the red sofas to the side of the lobby.

"Yeah, that's what some of us are doing." Cordelia mentioned pointedly, helping Dawn lower the girl gently onto the sofa.

"What happened?" Dawn asked eagerly, sitting on her own legs on the sofa in fascination. "How did you get away?"

"I don't know." Tara shrugged honestly. "They hit me and then it all went black…I must've been knocked out." She mused to herself in contemplation, then shook her head, dismissing the thought for now. "Anyway, I woke up in my room a few minutes ago."

Lorne moved back towards the counter where Giles had left a pot of tea while Cordelia and Dawn stayed either side of Tara on the sofa. "Willow will be so relieved when she sees you." Cordelia noted.

"She's fine." Cordelia chuckled as she laid her hand gently on the blonde's shoulder to stop her from rising up and looking for the redhead. "She's looking for you with everyone else. It's just us, Vi and Fred; their upstairs. Oh, and Ethan downstairs."

"We should find them." Tara wouldn't allow her sudden panic to go quite yet. "Someone could get hurt…"

"They'll be fine." Dawn argued, repeating Cordelia's actions by holding Tara's shoulder.

"Willow's with Buffy; I doubt they'll get hurt." Cordelia assured her, knowing that it was the redhead that Tara was mostly concerned with. "And they all plan to report back here in about forty minutes anyway."

"You want a blueberry muffin, blueberry muffin?" Lorne called out to the girls, holding up a blueberry muffin.

Tara, Dawn and Cordelia stared at him dumbfounded, looking for some kind of clue as to what he meant. Finally, Cordelia spoke out. "How are you talking to?"

A round of 'oh' went around the girls as Tara stood up and gently shook her hand at Dawn and Cordelia's gestures as to whether or not they should help her up. Nonetheless, Dawn and Cordelia still followed her to the counter, as if she might befall some terrible tragedy on the way. "Thanks." She smiled to the demon as she made her way towards the counter, then turned to whisper in Cordelia's ear. "Does he call everybody pastries?"

She managed to reach the counter without any hassle, and was about to bite into her muffin when she heard a growl behind her, full of vile hatred.

All three girls turned around to the vicious voice and found Kennedy and Faith standing at the broken glass doors, both of their eyes narrowed on the blonde girl, particularly Kennedy. She was practically snarling at Tara, physically restraining herself to lash out at the girl.

"Tara's come back." Dawn reported quite excitedly, but her voice died down as she realized that the two slayers are quite capable of seeing that she is back, and more worryingly they didn't seem to care. Actually, they seemed to be angry and predatory.

"Get away from them…now!" Faith demanded, realizing that the others probably had no idea what Tara really was.

Tara wasn't sure what as going on. She was having another bout of deja-vu; once again she'd awoken in a strange place and faced with extreme reactions which she didn't understand. She stepped forward slowly, afraid to break the slayers just as she was afraid to break Willow with sudden movements. "What's…what's wrong?"

"That pull that, you bitch!" Kennedy spat, the rage simmering to the rim. "We know what you are."

"What she is?" The side of Cordelia's mouth raised; an indication of her confusion rather than a Tara-esque lop-sided smile.

"What?" Cordelia burst out, knowing it weren't true; she would've felt Tara's cool skin earlier, and the blonde's skin was actually quite warm.

"That's insane!" Dawn exasperated. Unlike Cordelia, she didn't need any kind of temperature test to know Tara really was Tara; she knew the blonde, and how she was acting was perfectly like Tara, and in no way like a vampire. She was the only person here, other than Tara, of course, who knew Tara well enough to know that.

"It's true." Faith assured them, pinning Tara with her eyes, watching her for any sudden move against the young Summers.

Tara took another step forward, much more hesitantly since she realized that they seemed to think she was something they would try to kill, and tried to speak as gently and non-threatening as possible. "W-w-what's going on?" She breathed deeply and her hands were shaking slightly as she gripped her skirt. "H-has something happened to Willow?"

That was it for Kennedy. She hadn't even enough breath left in her body to insult Tara; she was far too enraged. Instead, she just took action. She lunged straight at Tara, took hold of her by her blouse collar and threw her back against the wall.

"TARA!!" Dawn, Cordelia and Lorne rushed forward to help the blonde witch, but they were no match for Faith, who stepped in to keep anyone else from being help.

"Stay back." Faith tried to say as he struggled with the two women and demon quite easily. "She's been turned."

"Vi! Vi!" Cordelia called out, suddenly remembering the slayer was upstairs and should be able to get down in little more than twenty seconds. She just hoped she heard, and that twenty seconds was soon enough…

Meanwhile, Kennedy bore down on Tara and didn't hold back. She punched her three times in the face, watching with satisfaction as blood splattered from her mouth, yet at the same time with some disgust as memories Therese and the brutality she suffered came to mind. Swallowing the thought down, Kennedy focused back on Tara. She face was now bloodied up and swelling, her eye swollen closed. She tried to rush past the slayer, but Kennedy wasn't prepared to let her go again and hurt anyone else. She kneed Tara in the stomach with tremendous force, sending the blonde witch up several feet until she hit the wall behind a slid to the ground, coughing blood as she did.

Kennedy seized Tara by the throat with her left hand before her feet had hit the ground and pinned her up against the wall, using her right hand to punch her a few more times. Blood began to form on the wall behind her head, and she could hear Dawn's, Cordelia's and Lorne's shrieks nearby, and could even hear Faith's gasps at her brutality. It wasn't crossing Kennedy's mind that vampires, including the Tara they fought earlier, should be much tougher than this, but it was crossing everyone else's, including Faith's. She was beginning to have doubt.

Finally, Kennedy decided to put the 'vampire' out of its misery. Still using her left hand to pin Tara against the wall, she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a stake. "This is for Willow, bitch!"

Faith's eyes strayed up the stairs where Vi was running down, but it would never be fast enough. As she followed her eyes down the stairs to the empty glass doors, she gasped at what she saw. Willow and Buffy burst into the lobby, their eyes immediately falling on Kennedy. They'd stopped dead in shock, eyes and mouth wide open. As her eyes studied Willow's neck, Faith quickly came to a conclusion; Willow wasn't dead. That wasn't Willow. That meant that Tara wasn't really…

Knowing no one else could get there in time, Faith lunged towards Kennedy as her stake swung straight at Tara's heart. Faith arched her own arm down between the two bodies, knocking Kennedy's arm lower. However, it wasn't enough. At this new angle, Kennedy's stake embedded itself deep into Tara's stomach, allowing blood to pour out and over their hands…

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Birth, Death, Love and Hate

by Connor Kubrick

Copyright © 2003

deaf_jazzman@hotmail.com