Disclaimer: I took Joss Whedon's BtVS characters and put them in the world of the TV series Gabriel, which was created by Agustin and Roberto Alarcon. Like Joss, they're wonderful and I'm in no way taking ownership of this. I'm toying with an idea I had of combining both worlds by adding my own twist.
A/N: Just a brief heads up. I know that in BtVS Willow is Jewish, but for the purpose of this fanfic she won't be and you'll see why as you read along.
I was born Willow Rosenberg, but that woman disappeared a long time ago. She died along with the only woman I have ever loved when they ripped her from my life over three hundred years ago. That night I buried her and, with her, any hope for a normal life. Now I walk through the night with the memory of that love and the hope that my soul will one day join hers. Time and human desires do not interest me, for I'm dead, and I only breathe to love her once again…
Chapter I: Forgive Me, Father, For I Have Sinned
The final chimes of bells and hymns announced that it was time to close the church doors. Father Michael was putting out the candles from the high altar when a fast moving shadow caught his sight. Looking over his shoulder, he saw nothing. And so he quickly dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. He turned back ready to put out more candles when a cool breeze swept by him, and this time he could swear by all the 'Heavenly Fathers' that he had indeed seen something. At his age he wouldn't be surprised if it was simply some crazed teenagers trying to scare him, but, just as a precaution measure, he grabbed a candleholder and walked down the red carpeted steps of the altar.
"Who's there?" His voice echoed through the old church walls. "Hello?" Still he received no answer. Making his way down the red aisle, he glanced around seeing the church was empty. Eerie silence had filled the church, not the peaceful silence of closing time, and Father Michael began getting impatient. "We're closed," he said in a much louder voice. "Even Our Lord needs to rest at night."
Reaching the church doors, he double-checked that the doors were locked. Seeing no one had tampered with them since he last checked them at closing time, he started questioning if maybe his exhaustion was getting the better of him. Glancing over at the confessional, he saw light and movement. For a moment he hesitated and instead went against his better judgment. Setting the candleholder aside, on a high table, he fidgeted with a small yet heavy statue of St. Michael, the Archangel. He was beginning to think this wasn't a teenage hoax, and that it was possibly turning into something else. Gathering the candleholder once again along with his fading courage, he kept talking.
"It's late, and you shouldn't be here." Fear coursed through his veins, since he didn't know what he was facing, "I'm n-not sure what you're looking for, but this is a very poor church…there's n-nothing v-valuable here." Silently, he cursed his inability to remain firm and brave in a faceless danger as he approached the confessional. He knew someone was there, but no one seemed to answer.
Standing in front of the confessional, he was able to make out a figure, "Are you hungry?" he asked, slightly concerned. The mysterious visitor still remained silent. "Well, since you won't answer me, come back tomorrow. We give out soups and small meals all day." Father Michael waved the candleholder and whispered, "God helps those who help themselves."
Saying a silent prayer, he stepped into the confessional. He was startled by a young woman's voice saying, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."
Father Michael was stunned. He still couldn't see a face, but the voice was that of an angel, yet filled with such sorrow. Taking a seat, he prepared to listen as the young woman continued to speak, "It has been three hundred years since my last confession, and a century has passed since the last time I killed a man."
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Surely this girl was under the influence of some illegal substance. The words spilling from her lips made no sense. Concerned for her well-being, he encouraged her to go on while he discreetly reached for his cell phone.
The young woman continued to speak, her voice more distant and sad than before, "I'm lost, Father. Loneliness reigns over my days, desperation fills my nights, and I walk alongside death. My life is empty, without light, without hope, without love."
The aged priest felt something inside him stir; he had never heard something so…heartbreaking. He said the only thing he could say in his line of duty, "God loves us all, my child."
"Not me!" The statement came out angry, almost like a growl.
Father Michael stepped out of the confessional to see if he could find the girl. Not seeing her anywhere, he tried calling the cops. As he did so, he saw a large shadow swirling around him as he stepped further away from the confessional and down the red-carpeted aisle of the church. Stumbling his way through the church, he tried speaking into the phone, but his call kept breaking up, and the operator kept asking him to repeat himself. In the end, he gave up and tossed his phone aside. The shadow drew closer, and he tripped and landed on the steps in front of the altar. Shaking and sweating from fear, Father Michael slowly looked up as the shadow materialized into his soon to be executioner.
A young woman stood there gazing down at him with hard green eyes. Long and layered red tresses framed her soft yet pale face. She was clad in black dress pants with a red silk top hidden beneath a black jacket. Fearing for his life, he did the only thing he knew; he reached for his cross on his neck and stared at the creature in front of him. Slowly standing, he spoke what he thought to be his last words, "By the sign of the Holy Cross, My Lord, free us from all our enemies..." Michael trembled as he said these words and looked into those hypnotizing green eyes, but he didn't back down. "Our Lord, creator of the heavens and earth, bless all of those-" The woman wrapped her cold hands against his trembling ones and finished the prayer in Latin. Shock didn't come close to what Father Michael was feeling. This being, this unholy creature could speak the words of God, walk into His place of worship and hold the cross she had now taken from his hands. This went against everything he knew—all the scriptures and myths. He just wanted to know…who was she? By the heavens, what was she?
His internal dilemma was interrupted when she held him at arm's length and looked into his old brown eyes. Her ageless emeralds were pooling with tears of centuries gone by. "Save me, Father." With those words, the young woman fell to her knees, begging for the salvation of her damned soul.
Women and children ran through a green forest in the dead of the night. Screams and gunshots echoed all around them. The sounds were terrifying and, even amongst all the greenery; there was nowhere to hide. These Christian mercenaries had passed God's judgment on them all. They had condemned them for what they were, gypsies. Their possessions had been seized and all their men had been arrested, tortured, or killed. They called them heathens, but who shed all this blood in a deity's name? They had kept to themselves and stayed away from the cities as the law had stated. Therefore, they couldn't understand why they were being hunted for sport like animals. One woman, named Tamara, looked to her granddaughter who looked terrified.
"No matter what happens, no matter what you see, I want you to run. Do not let these animals find you, Nadya. Do you understand me?"
The young girl nodded, but this felt like goodbye and she didn't want to lose her grandmother too. Tamara took off her necklace and gave it to her granddaughter.
"Take this with you. Never forget where you come from. Don't ever forget who you are."
Holding her granddaughter for the last time, she placed a kiss to her forehead and ran in the opposite direction. Nadya stood silently weeping at being left alone with a necklace as the only thing to remember who she was and who should have been by her side for the rest of her life. She saw her grandmother walking away and a group of mercenaries intercepted her. She wanted to scream, but she remembered agreeing to her grandmother's terms. She promised she wouldn't let them find her, but she hoped they wouldn't hurt her grandmother. When she saw who led that particular group of mercenaries her hopes vanished. Angel was leading that group. Even though he had an angelic face, he was the most ruthless and bloodthirsty of them all. Her grandmother pulled out a small ancient tablet and rapidly spoke in what Nadya recognized as Romanian. Angel drew closer, a clear smirk on his face.
"I curse you." Tamara said, her angry voice could barely be heard. "I curse you!"
"Do you love life?" Angel asked calm as ever. "I hope you do." Plunging his sword into Tamara, he laughed and said, "I simply don't find pleasure in killing those who don't love life."
Nadya held her scream as she saw Angel decapitate her grandmother right before her eyes. Hiding in the shadows, she made her escape and never looked back.
Tara rose from her nightmare. It was like living in a history horror movie that she couldn't escape. She looked at the patient on the bed and saw her finally open her eyes and smile at her.
"It was just a dream…a really bad dream…"
"Tara…"
"Then why…"
"Tara."
Tara jolted wide awake and looked at Mrs. Thompson, who remained in a comatose state. The blonde's phone was ringing, and she quickly checked it, hoping she wouldn't get in trouble for having it on and for sleeping on the job. Seeing it was Buffy, she answered it while her other hand quickly reached for the gold necklace around her neck.
"Hey, Buffy. What's up?" In an effort to calm down, Tara kept toying with the necklace.
"Tara. Tara, are you okay?" Buffy had a voice of panic on the other end of the line, so Tara tried her best to calm her down.
"Yes, I'm fine. Why?"
"Girl, I just had the worst nightmare about you! And I've been calling, and you didn't answer! I thought-"
"Buffy! Calm down. I-I don't…I don't really have time to talk right now. I'm actually very busy at the moment." Tara knew she was lying to her friend, but she really couldn't afford getting into trouble. Plus the idea of both of them having ominous nightmares was really giving her the creeps.
"You're a terrible liar, Tara Maclay. Fine, but I have a feeling you're going to have a horrible night."
"Buffy."
"Yeah?"
"I work in an emergency room. Every night is a horrible night here."
The girl on the other line seemed to give in to Tara's reasoning, "Just promise me you'll be careful."
"I will."
"Be careful, Tara. I'm serious. Okay?"
Tara heard footsteps and decided to end the conversation quickly, "We'll talk later."
"Okay."
Looking back at Mrs. Thompson, Tara wondered if she had really seen her wake up, or if it was all part of her dream. She stood from her seat and checked her vitals, but no change in her condition.
"Tara, what the heck are you doing?" a blonde woman in a green nurse's uniform walked in questioning why Tara looked so interested in a comatose patient.
"I-I thought Mrs. Thompson had woken up from her coma."
The other nurse looked at Tara as if she had grown a second head. "Tara, are you crazy? This old hag has been in a coma for over a month."
Tara tried playing it off. She had honestly forgotten how crude her co-worker could be. "Anya, I really thought she'd woken up and smiled at me."
Anya threw her hands in the air. "Woman! This is a broccoli."
Tara rolled her eyes. "Got to love your work ethic."
"Ladies, please, no fighting." A young doctor by the name of Riley Finn walked in. "Stephanie called in sick, so we'll be short handed again today. I hope you two are ready," the doctor walked off, missing Anya's sexually charged comment.
"Oh. My. God. What a man…I could eat him alive." Anya caught the look Tara was giving her, "What?"
The shy blonde giggled. "Nothing."
"Tara, you know what your problem is? You need to get laid. We need to find you a hot lesbian and make you have hot lesbian sex with her." Tara turned bright red and looked away as Anya walked out the door.
A disfigured man clothed in rags wandered on the outside of the church circling the only car parked out front. Lights from inside the church still burned brightly, and the scarred man stealthily made his way to the back trying to find some sort of entrance. He indeed found an old patched up windowpane. It was enough for him. Careful to make no noise, he removed the wood boards and quietly slipped into the building. He was able to slip inside unnoticed and hear the voice of the woman he had been following for so long. Maybe tonight was his lucky night.
"Imagine living in a limbo between life and death, away from everything you've ever loved. That the sun never shines for you again while you are condemned to roam the nights like a savage beast. How I envy you mortals. Dying is simple. Living is hard. Yet in the end, death comes to you so easily. Death is the only certainty in a human's life. It waits around every corner, behind every door. The great irony of immortality is that you never escape death. You walk alongside it, for all eternity. You watch as it takes away everything you love."
Father Michael looked from the burning candles to her, "And you? Are you immortal?"
The redhead looked down. "I could die, but not like you. I don't have that blessing."
"Because you're a vampire?"
Uneasiness was written all over the redhead's face. "Yes."
Father Michael looked away. "Well then, I imagine that…a little garlic, a stake to the heart, things like that could work."
The vampire growled in anger, and her eyes began to glow blood red. "Do not mock my pain, Father." Baring her fangs to the older man struck fear in his heart, and he tripped and fell once again to the floor. Regaining her senses and looking at the large crucifix at the center of the altar, the vampire's eyes returned to their normal green shade. She knelt before the altar, praying in a quiet whisper. Father Michael tried to catch his breath, but all he heard was, "Forgive me, Father. This curse is like a disease. I can't always control myself." The young woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath in concentration.
The priest remained confused. "But if you're a vampire…how can you come in here…into the house of God?"
Sad emerald eyes looked at him. "I don't know. Perhaps…it's because I want to be saved… Save me, Father."
The priest sadly answered with all honesty. "I don't know if I can."
The vampire rose filled with anger and disappointment at the false façade that was God and his forgiveness. "Isn't God supposed to forgive all those who come to him? Aren't His doors open for all those who seek salvation? No matter how big the sin…the grace of God can redeem them. Or so it's said. Isn't that right? Answer me, Father!" By now the priest was cowering. He didn't know what to make of this night. Nothing had ever prepared him for something like this, and now he faced a cursed immortal being that was enraged and could finish him off in the blink of an eye.
"Yes," he whispered, hoping the vampire had heard his answer.
"I didn't choose this…" The vampire's voice softened as if remembering something from the past, "Someone cursed me… Three hundred years ago, I was attacked. My wife, Tara, and our unborn child were slaughtered…like animals." Father Michael saw devastation as unshed tears formed in the vampire's eyes. He was beginning to slowly understand that this poor condemned soul was worthy of an exception against all odds. The redhead continued, gazing off, seeing images only she could see, "They were everything I had…And now all I want is to join them in the afterlife. I don't want to keep living like this, but I can't die…not like this. I can't die with a damned soul. I need to save my soul, Father."
Father Michael looked away, hiding his own tears at hearing the last part of the vampire's confession. Just then, the vampire felt a sharp pain shoot through her whole being. The pain grew stronger as it settled to where her undead heart lay dormant. Images of an old man in agony filled her head, and she stumbled trying to make her way out of the church. The priest grew concerned and stood up, trying to help.
"What's going on? Are you-?"
"I have to go…" The vampire seemed breathless, struggling to stand straight.
"What's wrong?"
"I'll come back, Father." Clutching her chest and slowly walking away, the redhead pointed to the priest. "I need you to help me."
"I don't even know your name!" the priest shouted in an effort to get the vampire's name, which he realized he hadn't gotten through the entire confession.
"Willow! Willow Rosenberg!" she yelled as she dashed out of the church in a hurry to reach the familiar man she saw in her vision.
An ambulance pulled up to Trinity Hospital, and the paramedics rushed to help the man who had just suffered a heart attack. One of the paramedics was trying to clear the way.
"Make way! Make way! We have a patient with a cardiac emergency!"
"Make way! Come on, people, move! Let's go! Let's go!"
Tara heard the paramedics yelling and immediately rushed to help. "When was the attack?"
"About half an hour ago. He comes in and out of consciousness."
Tara made quick mental notes. "Is he allergic to any medication? Do we have a contact? A family member?"
The paramedic looked at Tara and sadly answered, "It looks like he doesn't have anyone. He made the call himself. We found him alone in his garden, in his mansion."
Tara was checking for a pulse, and then checked his eyes, as the old man seemed to enter a short stage of consciousness. "What's your name?" she asked.
"Tara." His voice while exhausted was filled with joy, and it showed in his glazed, reddened eyes.
"Excuse me?" The blonde looked confused. She had never met this man before, but here he was in the ER knowing her name. Buffy was right, this was going to be one of those nights.
"My God…" the old man continued. "You're Tara Rosenberg." His memory flashed to the portrait painting of a beautiful blonde woman with scintillating blue eyes he had seen.
"No, I'm not her."
The old man nodded and smiled. He had found her. He had found Tara Rosenberg. After a whole lifetime of waiting, the woman was alive. His joy however was short-lived as his tired old heart gave out and his life drifted away. Tara hesitated for a moment, and a paramedic snapped her back to reality.
"We're losing him! We're losing him!"
Tara finally realized what was going on. "No. Get me the defibrillator. Now!" She began counting as she pressed on his chest trying to get his heart to beat.
The assistant tech came by. "It's ready."
Tara rushed and got it defibrillator ready, "Give me 200. Clear!"
"No response."
"Again. Clear!"
The paramedic saw Tara's efforts, but he himself saw it was leading nowhere. "Still no reaction. The patient is not responding."
Tara refused to let this man die, something about him pushed her harder. "Someone get me the adrenaline, please!"
One of the nurses handed the prepared syringe to her, and she plunged it into the old man's chest. Little did she know that miles away Willow Rosenberg felt that pain as she sped through the highway trying to reach the hospital. The redhead grimaced, but regained her focus as she sped past exits and swerved between cars. She pulled her Audi R8 to the hospital exit and ran the red light. She passed a few more streets and saw the hospital building. Quickly, she pulled up into their valet parking, but as she stepped out of her car she stood still for a moment, since she still felt slightly dazed. Unbeknownst to her, the man who had been spying on her at the church had followed her, just as he had been doing obsessively for months. He paid the valet and hurried inside to the hospital.
"He has to be here," she said more to herself, sensing out the old man from her vision. The redhead finally found the room in which the ill-fated man lay, but a nurse accompanied him.
"What are you doing here?" Anya asked startled by the fact that someone actually managed to sneak by her.
The redhead barely acknowledged her presence. "I didn't mean to scare you." Returning her attention to the man on the hospital bed, Willow failed to notice Anya adjusting her nurse's outfit to seem more provocative.
The blonde leaned closer invading the redhead's space. "Do you know if the patient has any allergies?" Her voice was undeniably sultry, and Willow found it sickening.
A young man, who Willow assumed to be the doctor, walked in. "Anya!"
"What? I was checking out the patient's vital signs. But there's been no change." Dr. Finn looked very displeased, and Anya took this as her cue to leave before things got worse.
"Are you a relative of Mr. Giles?" His tone was cold and indifferent.
Willow continued to look at Giles with endearment before answering. "He's my father."
"I'm sorry." Dr. Finn sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, "Mr. Giles suffered an ischemic cardiomyopathy due to an acute myocardial infarction. A heart attack. His heart is weak and can't pump blood like it used to."
Willow's gave the doctor a chilling stare. "How much time does he have?"
Feeling uncomfortable, Riley did his best to answer, "If he responds well to the treatment, he could recover."
"And if not?"
"It's hard to say, but…" Willow turned her back to him and walked towards an open window. He had seen this many times before—relatives living in denial. Knowing there was nothing left to say, Riley decided it was best to leave the redhead with her father.
As soon as Dr. Finn cleared out, Willow closed the door and the blinds over the tiny window so no one could see inside. She walked over to Giles' bedside and took the patches off his chest. Concentrating, she gathered her magic from long ago. In her mind's eye she reached with her magic into his chest and forced his weakened heart to beat as if it were a few years younger. The process was taxing on her since she hadn't used magic in over three centuries, and it was physically manifesting itself not only on her, but around her as well. Lights flickered and walls shook.
Down the hall, in the woman's bathroom, Tara had been washing her face trying to forget what a crazy night it had been, when she felt the walls and everything around her shake and the lights flicker for no reason. This was Texas, after all. There were not supposed to be earthquakes here.
Tara continued to stare at her reflection. Seriously what is wrong with me? She was beginning to think her night shifts were taking a toll on her, or that she needed a long vacation. That old man had called her Tara Rosenberg. He looked at me as if he knew me.
In Giles' room, Willow exerted the last of her magic to restore what little life she could into the man she came to love so dearly. His almost lifeless body seized, his eyes fluttered open, and he gasped for air. Giving all she had, Willow finally let go and collapsed into a nearby couch. Giles regained consciousness and stared at Willow in disbelief. The monitors showed the old man's improved vitals, but the displeased look in his eyes made Willow cower, only slightly. Giles' eyes grew gentle and spoke the one word that he knew would make all the difference in the world.
"Tara." He remembered the painting and the nurse who tended to him in his hour of need; they were both one and the same. "I saw her…" Willow stared at Giles with grief in her eyes. "She's here," the old man continued. "Tara is really here."
"I saw her, Willow. It was her. It was Tara."
Willow couldn't stand this; her broken heart couldn't take it. The old man was probably delusional. "You had a dream, Giles." Tears filled her eyes as she thought of the false hope he had given her. "Just rest, go to sleep. Your heart is still weak, and you need to build your strength. I was able to buy you a little time."
Giles' face grew stern. "I don't want you playing God with me, Willow."
"I need you alive. I need you strong. You're all I have left, and I refuse to sit back and watch you die."
Giles smiled sadly at the ageless vampire, "I was with you for as long as I could be, but I've grown old and I have to go. It's the rule of life. We all live and die."
"That damned rule doesn't apply to me, Rupert." The vampire was upset, and her eyes had turned red at the mention of people living and dying. She knew this already, she'd seen it, but she had been a helpless bystander for over three centuries. "You know I have the power to keep you here with me. You can't leave me, Giles." Her gaze softened and her eyes returned to their normal green. "I can't lose you too."
Rupert knew his time was nearing. "That decision isn't mine, or yours to make."
"Giles…what will I do without you?"
"Look for her. Find Tara and be happy with her."
The incoming emergencies at Trinity Hospital seemed to never end that night. Walking out of the bathroom, Tara saw another major emergency unfold. Nurses quickly gathered to help tend to a young man wounded by a gunshot. A girl, who Tara assumed was his friend or girlfriend, was screaming covered in blood, pushing against the nurses as the young man screamed in agonizing pain.
"Miss you need to calm down! Someone get her out of here!"
Another nurse was holding down the bleeding patient, "Young man, I need you to calm down!"
"What's going on here?" Tara asked trying to make herself useful and moving the girl out of the way.
"Two gunshots to the abdomen. He's losing too much blood! Prepare for a blood transfusion!"
The girl Tara had moved out of the way pushed against the nurses and started screaming again. "No! Leave him alone!"
Riley's temper got the best of him. "I said get her out of here!" Tara quickly grabbed the girl and pulled her away from the room. The girl hit her and screamed some more. Crossing paths with Anya, she figured the other blonde would offer assistance. That hope was lost when Anya rambled that the young man was a celebrity and figured helping him would guarantee him sleeping with her.
Dr. Finn grew impatient with the rambling blonde. "Anya! Prepare for the blood transfusion now!" He turned to the young man who was bleeding profusely. "I need you to calm down." The hospital staff quickly prepped a room for surgery. Meanwhile, someone had notified the media, and now reporters wanting to know about the rap artist and his condition barricaded the hospital. The hospital took immediate action and put the hospital on lockdown for the safety of their staff and patients.
Willow's keen hearing picked up the chaos that was going on around her, but she was too engrossed in keeping watch over Giles. She heard camera flashes and police sirens, but she tried ignoring them. Curse this damn sensitive hearing. A strong smell of rich blood engulfed her senses, and she fought the urge to follow it to the source. The smell of blood was so strong she could practically taste it.
Get it together, Rosenberg. Maybe a walk outside will help. This hospital is filled with sick and injured people. I just need fresh air.
Taking her own advice after making sure Giles' vitals were still fine, Willow silently walked out of the room. Stepping into the hallway, she realized this was a horrible mistake since the whole hospital reeked of blood. She continued walking, but the further she walked, the stronger the smell was getting. She felt herself getting dizzy from the craving; her body ached for the taste of fresh blood. Willow refused to give in to the beast inside and so she held on to the wall as she made her way down the halls, trying to find her way out of the hospital. Had she bothered looking to her right, she would have seen Tara escorting another young lady to a room.
Tara led the scared young woman to a vacant room where she cleaned the dried blood from her arms and face. "Did those men hurt you?" The young woman couldn't speak, but she shook her head in response. "No. Okay. Are you hurt?"
"N-no." The reply was a bare whisper.
"This isn't your blood?"
The girl began to cry and shook her head. Tara rubbed her back, and the girl looked at her with tearful brown eyes, her curly brown hair matted with dry blood. "Okay, I'm going to take your blood pressure and make sure that you're okay." The brunette simply nodded and let Tara take care of her.
Willow wandered down the hospital hallways, the stench of blood tormenting her. I should have gone home after I found out Giles would be okay.
Just then the smell of blood got stronger as a male nurse pushed a stretcher with a deceased young man on it. His lifeless eyes were open, and blood oozed out of the scratches on his face and the bullet hole on the side of his skull. Willow leaned against the wall, but the nurse figured she was just queasy from seeing a dead body. He couldn't have been more wrong. Her body screamed to feed on the blood pooling on the stretcher. She closed her eyes, as she knew they'd be blood red in color by now. Her fangs pricked her lips on the inside wanting to pierce flesh to feed on.
Focus! I'm not an animal! I can control this! Please, God, have mercy on me! Help me!
The redhead barely realized that the nurse and the stretcher were gone. Her fangs had retracted, so she assumed her eyes had returned to their normal color as well. She slowly continued to walk hoping she would not have anymore bloody encounters.
Willow's stalker, the man with the scarred face, saw the commotion happening on the outside of the hospital. He looked around to see if he could find a way inside and saw that one of the doctors was giving a statement. That was his window of opportunity to sneak into the building. Passing the first set of double doors, he was stopped by the head of security.
"Where are you going?"
The stranger smiled slightly. "I have to go in."
The security guard looked at the stranger suspiciously. He was dressed in ragged clothes, was wearing a tattered hat and sunglasses at night. "That's fine, but where are you going?"
"I came to see someone who works here."
The guard became more suspicious of this man since his attire and his vague answers didn't seem to add up. "Who did you come to see?"
"Honestly, I have an emergency. I have to go in."
"So, you're sick?" the guard mocked the strange man despite the scar on his face. ""You don't feel well? Well buddy, if you want to come in here, you have to take off that hat and those shades."
The stranger looked at the guard firmly. "No. I can't."
A second security guard approached. Unlike his comrade, he was much more polite. "Sir, unfortunately, I'm going to have to ask that you leave this facility. You can't come through here. We're on lock down, so I must ask you to leave."
The stranger looked as though he accepted this, but as the security guards let down their defenses, he tried to push past them.
"You can't come through!"
"I have to go in there!"
"We said you can't come in!" With that said both guards shoved the stranger out of the hospital doors, not knowing that two gunned men had already slipped past them to finish the job they had started.
Tara had finished cleaning up the young rapper's girlfriend who'd she learned was named Mia. She knew the young girl was worried about her lover and was terrified of what would happen. The blonde took Mia's hand and looked into the girl's brown eyes, "Tell you what. I'll take you to see your boyfriend, so you know he's okay. But you have to promise not to say anything, or I can get in trouble." The brunette hugged Tara and whispered thank you over and over until the blonde expressed that oxygen was becoming an issue.
Together they walked to the recovery area of the hospital. One of the doors had a patient's name, RYAN SANTARELLO, on it. Stepping inside, the girl cried silent tears, and Tara quietly pulled up a chair for her to sit in. "You can't stay here for too long. Okay? I'll come in and get you once my shift is over."
The brunette sat silently watching her boyfriend and listening to the monitors beeping. Tara picked up his chart and thanked whichever angel watched over her that she was assigned to watch over this patient. Now it would be a lot easier to allow Mia to sit with Ryan. She admired young love, and, in a way, she envied the young couple. She wished she had someone to love, but she just as quickly pushed those thoughts aside as she caught Anya slipping into the room.
"Anya, what are you doing here?"
"Better question. What is she doing in here? You know she's not supposed to be here."
"I let her come in. Besides, Dr. Finn assigned me this patient. Did you stop by to actually be useful or to drool over the celebrity?"
Anya rolled her eyes, but Tara ignored her as she continued writing her notes down. As Tara was about to finish with the notes, she heard Mia screaming. Both blondes looked up and saw two dark men in black hoodies with guns pointed at them. The tallest of them yelled. "Shut her up! Shut her up!"
The other gunman had pulled Mia in front of him with a gun pointed to her head and a hand over her mouth to muffle her screams.
"I said shut the bitch up!"
Anya panicked and screamed when the other man with the gun approached her. Tara tried remaining calm, while also trying to shield her co-worker with her own body.
"Shut up! Shut up!" the man yelled.
Tara tried reasoning with the man. "Okay! Okay! We'll do what you want, but put the gun down."
Tara's efforts were useless as Anya kept screaming in fear while Mia kept fighting to get free. Down the hall, Willow heard the screaming and a muffled struggle. Looking around, she saw no one around so she followed the voices.
"Shut your mouth, bitch, or I'll shut it for you!"
The shorter gunman paled slightly. This wasn't what he came to do. "I'm not here to kill women!"
"I don't care! I'll do it then! Everyone here is gonna die!"
Despite a gun being pointed straight at her, Tara tried her last efforts to reason with the thug, "Look, the police are outside. If you start shooting, getting out of here is going to be impossible."
The gunman got irritated and hit her in the face with the gun, splitting her lip. "Shut up!"
Anya was trembling now, she had never in her life been so terrified of anything, and now she feared her life would end in this hospital. "Tara, don't try to play the heroine, or they're going to kill us."
Mia feared for the nurse who didn't need to suffer any of this. "Just leave them alone!"
The taller gunman took his shades off and looked straight at Mia. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Huh, bitch?"
Willow finally saw the room where two men were holding the girls at gunpoint. Her emerald green eyes caught sight of the one woman she thought she would never see again. Tara. Her senses kicked in, this was no time to reminisce. She had to do something. She sped up and grabbed the thugs up and snapped him away from the girls throwing him to the far end of the hallway where he crashed into some utility carts. The second guy ran at Willow, but she flipped him over the nurse's station. Tara saw the first guy recover and reach out for his gun.
"Watch out!"
She watched in horror as the redhead stood there and the thug emptied out the entire gun's clip on her. Tara looked petrified, yet their redheaded savior seemed unmoved by being pierced by all those bullets. Both culprits stared at her in disbelief, as did Tara herself. Cops came charging in, knocking the suspects to the ground. An officer took a look at Willow. "Miss, are you okay?"
"I'm fine." With those words, she left through the double doors that lead outside, unaware that Tara was trying to follow her.
Riley caught up to the blonde who suddenly felt very irritated by his presence. "Thank God, you're alive!" His comment seemed sincere, but Tara paid him no mind as she kept staring at the double doors.
Anya, being dramatic as ever, threw her arms around Riley, "They almost killed me. I was so scared."
Willow checked herself over. Stupid mortals and their guns. At least her black jacket covered her damaged top that had been punctured by bullets. She quickly made her way out of the hospital with her mind filled with thoughts that had nothing to do with the shooting. She'd seen her. Giles was right. Tara was alive. After so long her undead heart felt like it could beat again, but…even if she is identical in image.
…She still might not be my Tara.
"That woman saved my life. They shot at her, but nothing happened. She stood there and took the bullets as if it was nothing." Tara knew she sounded crazy, but she also knew what she'd seen. She even checked the hospitals walls. She was right. The bullets had struck the woman.
Then how did she survive?
Anya looked at Riley. "Tara's lost her mind."
Tara rushed through the same double doors that the redheaded woman had left through. Riley grew concerned, but he figured she just needed some air. This night had been hectic on everyone. His entire staff was on edge.
Willow was walking towards her car when she heard footsteps quickly catching up to her. Although the bullets didn't kill her, it didn't mean she didn't feel pain, or that she wouldn't be sore for a few days. Pretending she was fine and unharmed, she turned around and saw Tara slow her steps before finally stopping in front of her. Her long blonde hair framed those delicate features Willow adored so much. Sapphire eyes shone brightly despite how dark it was outside. Willow could clearly make out those rosy lips that she'd once upon a time spent hours kissing; they tempted her so much. Her eyes landed on the cut on Tara's bottom lip from where she had been struck, leaving behind a thin trail of blood. Dressed in just plain green scrubs and a white sweater, Willow still found her to be the most beautiful woman she had ever laid eyes on. Even after three hundred years, this woman could still take her breath away and make her melt with those deep pools of blue.
"Tara." Willow caught herself saying the name, but the girl in front of her heard it. Instinctively, Tara reached for the gold necklace around her neck as she kept looking into those deep emerald eyes. She didn't know what it was, but those eyes, that face, everything about this woman felt so familiar. She felt a strong urge to kiss her, like if it was second nature to her and it had happened a thousand times before.
"I'm-" Tara was so hypnotized by the woman in front of her, that she didn't realized she had pulled on her necklace too hard until the chain snapped. The necklace fell to the ground and both women immediately bent down to pick it up. Their hands touched, and Tara felt a spark she had never felt before. In that split second, she felt alive, and she craved to know what it would feel like to have this woman's touch all over her.
Okay, Tara, get a hold of yourself. Could you sound any more like a sex deprived pervert?
Their eyes met once again, and they both became lost in each other. Willow saw flashes of the past, when she had courted her wife and took her on their first date. She had gone behind her back and bought her a rose. Those were times she loved and yet hated to remember because they reminded her of what she lost. She was almost thankful when Tara looked away, breaking the trance. Without thinking much about it, the redhead tried to reach out and wipe the blood away from Tara's lip.
Her lips feel as soft as I remember.
Another memory, this time of their first kiss long ago. They were out for a moonlit walk on the cobbled streets of their old hometown.
"Tara." Riley called out running out of the hospital looking for the blonde. Tara turned toward the sound of his voice, but only for a moment. Yet, that moment was enough. When Tara turned back again, the mysterious redhead was gone.
I wonder if she saw what I saw. Is it even- no, I'm just exhausted. This night has been crazy.
"Tara. Are you okay?"
The blonde kept ignoring him, and that frustrated him very much. It seemed to him as if she was looking for someone. "Who are you looking for? Do you realize how dangerous it is for you to be outside? Especially after what happened!"
She turned away from him. Leave it to Riley to think he knows everything, yet understands nothing but cold hard science.
"Let me see. What happened to you?" His efforts were in vain, the blonde simply walked away from him.
Tara. She's alive. Death couldn't keep her from me.
Willow walked to her car aware that someone was following her. She decided to lead her stalker astray. The vampire kept walking, leading her stalker to an abandoned parking lot behind vacant warehouses. It was in her predatory nature to kill whenever she felt the slightest bit threatened, but this mere mortal wasn't worth her time.
The disfigured man followed Willow into the parking lot. However, no one was there. It seemed like in an instant Willow had dematerialized and vanished into thin air. He searched everywhere, but he couldn't find the object of his obsession. Willow reappeared at a rooftop from where she could see the crazed man looking for her. She didn't understand his obsession with her, didn't know where it came from, and quite honestly didn't care.
I've gone a century without killing in order to save my soul. I've waited for a night like this when I could see her once again. It would be so easy and simple to kill you, or anyone, but I've buried my bloodlust for her.
Willow vanished once again leaving the man searching for her. He could have sworn he saw movement on the top of one of the roofs of the buildings close by, but he still couldn't understand how the woman could have reached that place. He continued searching the parking lot for her, but soon he understood his target had escaped had to let her be for the time being, but he wouldn't give up. He would find Willow Rosenberg, for only she could help him. The night was fading, and the day wasn't gentle with him so he retreated to his trashed old apartment where he would wait for night to come again.
Willow walked the luminescent city streets. She had never actually taken the time to walk the city since she mostly spent her time isolated from everything and everyone. Walking down Center Street, the redhead admired the lights. For once, she simply sat down on one of the benches and admired the murals that you could see off the highway. Looking to her left, she could see the new buildings that adorned the downtown area and that everyone raved about. The redhead shook her head; she had to get her car before it got towed away. The walk to the hospital wasn't long, but she encountered many girls who promised her a good time and a night filled with pleasure. She said nothing and continued on her way. Reaching the valet station she gave the man her ticket and paid him giving him a large tip when he brought her car. Getting in, she quietly drove away, following the speed limits for the upcoming drive.
She tried focusing on driving, but everywhere she looked she saw Tara. She saw her on billboards, posters, and the drivers next to her at red lights. This was insane. They didn't even share a kiss, not even an embrace. She could hear her voice from so long ago call her name, like a ghost making itself known once again.
Willow…
Tara. It's you. You've come back to me. I control my thirst for blood, for you. Always for you, Tara. I could let myself lose control…let my instincts take over and unleash this beast inside of me. That would be so easy to do, but nothing in my life is easy. I've grown used to difficulties and living in darkness.
Father Michael sat in the confessional listening to Willow. "Today time stood still, Father. And all of eternity became a second when I saw her. Giles was right. Tara is alive."
Father Michael became confused. "How is it possible that she is alive?"
"She's not my Tara. She's not Tara Rosenberg. Don't you see, Father? God gave her back to me."
A small smile crossed the priest's face. "What do you plan to do?"
"I'm not sure. I want to be with her, but I can't condemn her to live in darkness. I can't tie her to me, not like this."
"Will you see her again? Are you going to tell her who you are?" The priest waited for an answer and received none. He looked to the other side of the confessional and saw it empty. He knew this must be devastating for his new friend, but he also knew that the decisions that lay ahead would not be easy to make.
Anya waltzed into Giles' room as Tara checked his vitals and wrote them down on his chart. "Check it out. This stiff is the father to that sexy vixen who saved our lives. What was her name? Oh yeah, Willow. You know he's my soon to be father-in-law. Father-in-law thank you so much for choosing this lousy hospital to come and die in."
Tara sighed and shook her head. "Anya, have a little more respect, will you?"
"My my, jealous, aren't we? What's the matter? Scared I might take that little redhead away from you?"
"Anya, last I checked you weren't a lesbian, and you've been trying to get into Riley's pants since you started working here!"
Anya pushed her luck some more knowing there was something eating away at the other blonde. "Just admit it. You want her! You fell for those piercing green eyes and those dark clothes that made your kitten wake up and purr, sister."
Tara set the chart down. Okay, she had felt something, but she wasn't going to give into Anya's game. "I saw the bullets hit her. I saw it!"
"Just like you saw Mrs. Broccoli smile at you? Face it, Tara, you're due for a vacation and you need to get laid!"
Tara rolled her eyes and left the room to finish her shift and go home.
If there is one thing that Willow was grateful for was the ability to still be able to see a sunrise, even if it was through a theater screen. She missed it. She missed being outside during the day, without being confined to the blanket of nightfall, but all of that was taken from her. Punching some numbers into a keypad, a fridge opened and she took a small pouch labeled "Pig's Blood" from it. Puncturing a hole into it, she poured the thick red content into a wine glass and drank from it as she looked at the eternal portrait of her lost and returned lover. Looking back, the portrait did little justice to the actual beauty of the woman, but it had helped keep the memory alive for so long.
Father Michael kneeled before the high altar and began to pray, "Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. Do not let us fall into temptation, and deliver us from all evil. Give me a sign, Lord. You who washed us of our sins with your blood, give me a sign that Willow Rosenberg is worthy of salvation."
Hanging his head low, the priest missed as one of the wounds on Christ on the crucifix began to bleed. A thin red stream of vibrant blood poured from his side wound and flowed down his side all the way down. A single drop of blood fell onto a lit candle and extinguished the flame with a sizzle. The priest looked up at the crucifix with tears in his eyes as his prayers had been answered with a clear sign from God himself. He would help Willow, for she had earned the right to be saved.
A/N: I hope you've enjoyed the chapter. Feel free to leave a review or send me a PM.