A/N: Let's see if this one will ever see the light of being online. MAJOR AU, major twist on Tara. I'd hate to confuse anyone, so the timeline is – first chapter is towards the middle of the storyline, then it starts from the beginning, and, eventually, it'll all catch on. There is much more after this chapter time-wise, I promise.
Disclaimer: Yeah, we all know. Let's just skip it.
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Searing pain erupted in the witch's temple. She jumped back, swearing in surprise and hurt, feeling like she just took a jackhammer to the skull. Sans grace, she stumbled blindly to the side, falling over the edge of a tombstone and slamming into the dirt.
Almost instantly, she knew there would be blood. Not because the warm gushing presence (well, sorta), but because there was a blood-starved vampire swiping her up instantly, never mind that her only aid for the night was aiming a stake-loaded crossbow right at her.
The man working the crossbow, not to mention, was particularly easy to piss off at his 'time of the month'.
Oz instantly threw the catapult to the side, judging from the clattering noise of wood hitting ground. "Willow! Don't forget your wrist!"
If Willow Rosenberg, genius extraordinaire, hadn't been panicking, she certainly would've remembered her little battle strategy that sounded oh-so-cool before patrol started. Now, the red-headed witch was about to become a red-everything corpse. Assuming the insane vampire didn't suck her dry.
Given the look in her eye as she lifted her prey into the air by her neck, she was going to the moment she got the chance.
With a cursing glance to Willow's flailing arm, which she was having much difficulty moving through the flaring heat, the vampire started to move easily.
Even in the state of panic and the full moon, Oz controlled his temper as he rushed forward. Tibet really had stabilized him. Willow watched her only saving grace in her peripheral as he scrambled to dislodge the stake, but still found it hard to keep her eyes off the vampire.
She was absolutely beautiful. Demonic guise or not, she was still stunning. In the three seconds between Willow being lifted off the ground and hoisted over to the stable wall of the mausoleum, her focus had been almost solely on her.
That beauty stopped when she went in with a roar. She nearly clamped her mouth around Willow's neck, but her presumably broken arm functioned begrudgingly long enough for Willow to press the cross to the side of her throat.
A scream of absolute heart-wrenching horror ripped out of the vampire's mouth. Within a moment, the vampiric feeding face was gone and replaced with a kicked puppy's smashed muzzle and pleading eyes.
Of course, she was one hell of a big puppy, a Doberman still quite capable of tearing her to shreds, but strangely pitiable nonetheless.
Willow registered her chance to escape. Her feet hardly functioned beneath her and the adrenaline was wearing off, her arm beginning to throb like a bitch. Oz already had his gaze trained on the vampire in torn clothing, and was quickly honing in.
Just a moment before the wood sank into the flesh of the vampire's back to penetrate her heart, Oz flew back in similar fashion to Willow's prior reaction. A scream of holy fuck this hurts and ensuing clumsiness.
He thankfully landed on the ground, the stake clattering beside him. Willow seized after it with her functioning hand, thankfully one she could actually chicken-scratch in, and threw herself at the vampire again.
This is so much easier when Buffy is around, she thought to herself, chasing after the vampire.
The creature had resorted to crawling. Vampires were normally powerhouses who had strength to rival a Slayer's, but this was a starving vampire. Starving vampires were uber-scary, but were also quickly deteriorating in strength and wit.
She was on the ground, her frayed clothing hanging off her gaunt figure. Though she knew she was looking death in the pointy end, she was still trying to get away.
In an instant, the blonde vampiric demon had went from terrifyingly beautiful to… almost strangely cute. It was like watching a kitten scoot away from the puddling water on the floor of a bathtub. Except, Willow thought again, kittens were cute, and, well, this vampire is adorable, but kittens aren't deadly and the water isn't deadly and she is sorta kinda a kitten because she doesn't wanna die, even though water won't kill a cat but a stake does kill a vampire and–
"Please!" the creature screamed as another massive headache, though significantly weaker than the first, harped at Willow's head, "I don't wanna die, I'm just so hungry!"
"Urg," Willow groaned, moving to clutch her head, but grunted in pain when her broken arm screamed back. That was really starting to smart. If she wasn't magical and blocking the pain with her magics, she'd be crying on the ground like a kiddie with a scraped knee. She hissed in pain again, torn between holding her poor head and cradling her arm in a non-offensive way and keeping a death grip on the stake.
Oz was back by Willow's side again, taking the stake from her. "Stop doing that, Will. Not the greatest encouragement," he stated, holding his head.
"It's not me, I swear!"
Almost simultaneously, they met gazes, then turned to stare at the vampire. She had cemented herself into the bark of a tree. Beneath their looks, she seemed to become part of the tree.
"I-I-I-I-I-I'll stop if I-I get to eat," she half-hissed half-whimpered. "Please, I h-haven't e-e-e-eaten in days, a-a-and just take me to a h-hospital or something."
There was a moment of silence as the couple shared an awkward look. "But d-drop the stake or your h-h-heads explode."
Oz tossed it to the side without a second glance. "You stay right there and we'll bring you something," he commanded. "Willow, hurry home and get Buffy. Tell her to come here – we're by the Croft's crypt, it looks like – and then get to the hospital. Buffy will know what to do, and as much as I'd like your help with it... Alright?"
Willow nodded.
She knew exactly what her boyfriend was referring to. Considering that Buffy was a lover of vampires, having swooned over Angel and seemingly having something for that gods-awful bleached Spike, she knew where to find blood. Of course, it was animal, but it was still able to sustain a vampire.
Before she knew what was happening, her arm was wrenched around, the magics no longer dulling the pain. She made a muffled screaming sound as long, lithe fingers closed over her mouth. "Hold still. I think we c-can work this out. I want real blood, you filthy monsters. Give it to me now and I'll fix you up and leave you alone. Got it?"
Shiiiiiit, Willow thought, but just nodded.
She wanted to scream as her arm was quickly shot through with healing magic, the vampire manipulating everything. Healing magic was nice and quick, but very, very painful. "Wasn't broken, you moron. Just sprained your elbow. Now hold still or I'll snap your neck."
Great. Apparently a mind-reading magical witch-vampire, too.
Her capture growled in response. Willow failed to notice that Oz was frantically and discreetly pulling out his phone and calling Buffy. She was out like a light as the vampire slowly started to drain her.
Pain tolerance wasn't something she was so great with.
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Willow was groggy. Not the kind of caffeine-crashed after an all-night study session, but the disgusting-taste-in-her-mouth-kind. She sat up, finding herself back in her room. Oh, my room. Just a dream…
She startled when she glanced at her French-style doors. In blood-red letters, hopefully just spray-paint in the hue to get the point across, was written Invite me in. Beneath it was a smaller set of letters, added as a smart-assed remark more than likely considering the calligraphist was a freakin' vampire, was Please.
When her eyes went from the delicately swooping letters to the blonde creature perched on the wood railing, her heart stopped.
Of course, it was the vampire from earlier. Tall, blonde, and still as messily dressed as earlier. But now that she was holding still, filing her nails with something metallic, Willow saw so many more details.
Her eyes were a light baby-blue when they weren't the demonic-vampiric-yellow. Her lips were huge and red and looked very plump. Almost healthy. Her face, which looked anorexic before the feeding, had filled back in, with sharp cheekbones that were now a sign of beauty and not hunger. She was still in that tattered clothing, a floral-type top with dirt stains and tears. Her loose-hanging jeans had obvious signs of use from their scuffle in the graveyard. Willow didn't fail to notice she was barefoot.
So she really was looking at a poor, blood-starved, kleptomaniac vampire.
"Y'know, that was in my pocket for a reason," she said through the crack in the doors.
The vampire didn't lift her eyes as she artfully carved away her smooth nails. "Your precious little wolf didn't notice that. And you kinda passed out. Thought I'd help myself."
"Why're you here? And how? And you better answer fast, missy, 'cause my best friend is the Slayer and–"
"Shut it," the vampire snapped. Her head whipped up dangerously fast, her eyes narrowed to a threatening slit. "What the fuck is in that blood of yours? You a witch?"
Willow paused, afraid that her first real discussion on her interests in the occult would end with the nail file going from poised alarmingly in the vampire's hands to being lodged in her forehead. Sure, the vampire still wasn't allowed inside and all, but she could surely shuriken it. "I dabble."
"That's some strong dabbling. I can taste it in you."
Willow shuffled awkwardly on her feet. She didn't want to invite the vampire in, but the blonde creature was getting impatient. "You stalked me here to tell me that?"
"Nope," the vampiress responded, glancing down at her nails again, before leering back up at her. "I liked it. I want more. So invite me in."
Feeling bold, Willow opened the door a bit more. She could tell from the iron-like stench that hit her that the vampire had indeed split a small critter open for her window-art. "And why would I want to do that?"
There was a flash in the vampire's eyes. "Because I asked. Politely."
"That was neither polite nor asking," Willow stated, crossing her arms. "I was serious about Buffy being the Slayer, you know!"
"Never said you weren't. However, as much of a bitch as your mother seems and as withdrawn as your father is, the first one to step out of that threshold on their flight to Paris gets a nasty surprise. Unless, of course, you let. Me. In."
A sick feeling went straight to Willow's gut. "How did y–"
The vampire cut her off simply by tapping on her skull. "It seems you've got very loud thoughts. Oh, I wanna get home, see mummy and daddy off. Oh, Oz, I love you so much. Oh, grow up!"
Willow felt like she had been slapped. And hard. "But, but, I don't understand! No magic when you're a vampire! It's, it's a rule!"
"I could never read minds before. And the little headache thing is a trade secret," the vampire replied, lifting up a corner of her mouth in a wicked grin, gleaming eyes and all. "Seems I might have a spark leftover from when before I sacrificed myself to the black arts."
She found herself shifting in her position against the door.
For some reason, she felt like she could talk to this nameless face for hours and not once get bored. Hell, she could just watch the subtle, bored movements play across the vampire's features and not be bored herself. "Why do that?"
"Because, you little priss, not everything's a fairytale," the vampire spat. "My dad was a drunken bastard. My brother was a slob, and a greedy pig. Not to mention, some of my cousins… anyway, my mom, she led me to magic. After she died, my family really started to suck."
Willow looked at the ground, shameful. She nodded. "I didn't know, I'm so sorry… but that's no reason for… never mind."
"I don't want your pity or your opinions. I want food, dammit."
"Come in," Willow said weakly. "Ms…?"
"Tara."
"Tara. Don't see why I called you a miss. Or let you in in the first place. Might've been this little–!" Willow twirled around, about to jam the stake into the vampire's heart, before a strong hand gripped her sprained arm – which had been professionally wrapped at the hospital to protect it – and squeezed.
Willow grit her teeth in pain, about to scream. She bit it back, dropping the stake. "I don't know why you did that," the vamp – no, Tara, – said in response to her rather stupid attempt.
She kicked the piece of wood beneath the bed. Willow felt a rush of sick, hot worry in her stomach. Like she had a funnel stuffed in her throat and someone poured steaming acid down it. "I-I'm sorry!"
"Sure you are," Tara mumbled to herself, jerking the redhead's head back by her hair. Her ivory throat exposed, Willow felt herself go dizzy all over again. She felt her knees turn to jelly, and hopefully she could collapse into the darkness all over again, but the pain didn't bring her a sweet blackout again.
Willow hissed as the sharp teeth dug into her neck again. She felt an unbelievable sensation as Tara began to suckle the blood out of the indents, slowly at first, then frantically with a hunger Willow had never seen before.
Had the woman been an actual woman and not a demon, she'd just assume it was a crazing hunger. "Why… am I let you doing this?"
Tara growled, not talking until Willow went limp in her arms, on the verge of losing way too much blood in one night. "Because you know you like it."
Willow shook her head. "No. That's so wrong."
"Gimme a break, sweetheart," she scoffed. Willow just about flew out of Tara's strong grasp when something cold, wet and flexible began to work over the wound. "Hey! Tongue! No!"
"Or I could let you bleed out and die. There's plenty of witches around here." Tara squinted her eyes. "Amelia."
"Amy," Willow corrected, before she caught her breath. She had just corrected a telepathic vampire on her insight. And she knew just what Tara was talking about. "And you won't get too far with her. I was thinking that she's kinda–"
"Dead? Oops," the vampire stated to herself. A flash of something crossed her features. But it was nothing. Vampires felt emotion. And she had just stated that something was dead, and…
"What the hell!" Willow screeched, looking out at what she had just registered on the porch. "You killed her, you, you psychopath!"
Willow scrambled over to the doors, staring at the rodent that had provided the paint for Tara's canvas. "Oh, you poor little rat!... wait, Amy's brown. This thing is gray."
Tara raised an eyebrow from her perch on Willow's bed, where she had made herself very comfortable. She glanced casually over at the rat cage, where Amy had been moved back to so Willow wouldn't have to run up to the campus every day to feed her.
Amy regarded the two women with liquid black eyes. She winked one.
In an instant, the crushed corpse was back on the porch, Willow spazzing. She frantically wiped her hands on her jeans, screaming 'Ew!' in quick sucessions. "Um, stay right there, I mean it! Touch anything and, and, actually, touch everything! I've got holy water on half the shit in here, dead-ass!"
Tara watched the teenager as she bounced up and ran for the bathroom. She blinked once, before going back to staring at the rat. "So you're a witch, huh? Red really was lying about the friends."
She heard Willow's approach, but was still somewhat startled at her tone. "She's into Hecate."
The vampire nodded. "Explains everything. 'Course, if I had my magic, I'd snap her back in a second."
Yeah, sure you would, you skank, Tara heard that voice pipe in her head. At least, she'd believe that, and wouldn't think to think that Tara could just read people. "I can hear you."
"Well, can you blame me? You've got boobs, and they're hanging out, and and, wow, if I can tell you anything, vampires love leather and I can easily see you in–"
Willow seemed to see where that was leading and shut her mouth. Tara smirked. "Like what you're thinking about, huh?"
She shook her head. There was a noticeable tinge in her cheeks. Ooh, what fun this is gonna be. So long as I keep away from that little nagging long enough.
She knew just what the nagging was. Magic, as delicious as it was in the blood, had a tendency to spark false emotion. Since she was a witch, she still had the traces, the telepathy was just the temporary effect of sharing magics, yadda yadda yadda.
The vampire rolled her eyes, reclining on the bed. She stared at the ceiling, which was peppered with light-green Glo-in-the-Dark stars. They were arranged just like they'd be in the real sky. Moose Getting a Sponge Bath, she thought to herself, cocking her head.
"They were for an astronomy test I had to take… and I guess I just liked falling asleep to them up there," the witch stated.
"I didn't ask."
"But that's what you were thinking of asking."
Tara was silent.
"How long did it take to learn?" Willow asked, standing awkwardly, looking for somewhere to sit. She opted with leaning against her headboard, sitting Indian style.
"No idea what you're talking about."
Willow pointed to the macabre artwork. "Y'know… the blood, painty-thingy. That I'd really like for you to clean off."
Tara shook her head. A vampire for all of three months and she knew more than any human possibly could. Of course, it was easier with the eavesdropping-allowing hearing, which she had put to use by the Rosenberg's window. Not that her parents were ever going to know they had possibly convinced her daughter into letting a killer into the house, but still. "Practice. If I hadn't practiced every single art I have, I would've starved ages ago."
Willow nodded like she was actively engaged in the conversation. "Arts?" she asked in a tone that hinted she was too scared to ask, but too curious not to.
A smile worked its way onto Tara's face. It was the one that no human so far could resist. "Yeah. Like painting backwards. Or convincing some cutie into the woods. Or keeping someone alive when I feed so I can come back later and get some of that delicious blood. And, not to mention, stalking people on the streets. You'd never believe how easy it is to pull someone into an alleyway. Not really my thing, but it's still depressingly easy."
She'd never do that, soulless or not. There were some things that even vampirism couldn't blot the fear out of. Or a tempered hate.
For a moment, another long silence dragged out. Tara sat there, wondering what she was supposed to do. Her sleazy motel building was a half-hour walk away, and the sun would be out in no time.
But she wanted to sit there all night with the witch. She was quietly tapping her fingers against her hip as she studied her star chart, seemingly as transfixed as Tara would've been before the demon killed her.
I could always tell her something to get the adrenaline pumping. Yum, adrenaline. Like how I supposedly snuck back into my home – which I've been welcomed into from the start, there's that question avoided – and gutted everyone. Yeah, my brother had his head fed into the industrial fan in the basement… how my dad just bawled like a little bitch… or I could always go for some pity points too. Aw, this poor little brat won't know jack about vampires, of course she'd buy anything. Always could go for the innocent snuggle route. Yeah, they always fall for that.
Willow was staring at Tara as she came out of her thoughts. "Hey? You alright?"
"I was thinking, okay?" Tara spat, feeling awful as she read the startled look on the human's face. Not so much that she had felt bad, but she had recognized that she should've felt bad. "What?"
"I, uh, I was wanting to know why you're not, you know, heading home? Because it's getting kinda late, well early in the layman's human terms and all, I mean it's like four. Is it just me or does time fly when you're anticipating getting torn to shreds? Not that I don't trust you or anything, it's just your species has a tendency to suck all the blood they can get, and you've already fed twice and I'm not dead or anything unless I came back like Buffy did after the Master drowned her and–"
Tara rolled her eyes, flopping backwards and fanning herself out on the bed. She was very aware that Willow had stopped her babbling and was expecting a response, but she was going to take a hint one way or another. "Too far."
"I uninvite you!" Willow half-commanded, half-whimpered.
Another moment of silence slunk out like a snake. "Not that simple, sweetheart."
Willow started to fidget on the bed before she hopped off. "It's all yours! I think I'll just wait until my parents leave. I'll crash on the couch. I mean, it's not like it isn't summer break or anything, and even if it wasn't, it's Saturday tomorrow, well, today technically, but I'm a loser who hasn't even made second base with her boyfriend she's starting to feel less awesome about and can't sneak into a club because I'm too scared that they'll put it on my permanent record–"
Tara hurled a pillow at Willow. She didn't underestimate her strength, but still found it amusing when it knocked the poor girl down.
"Alright! Remind me no pillow fights with you! I get it, I'll stop rambling, it's just your shirt's been riding down for the past ten minutes and it's really distracting and I really don't want to say anything and shit! I just gave myself away! Okay, I'm done, I'll be in the shower if you need me!"
With that, Willow spun around and slammed the door to her bedroom behind her. Another door flew open and was quickly locked behind her.
She was no longer interested when the sound of running water hit her ears. Tara could tell just where the bathroom was, and if the redhead took a bit too long relieving herself, she'd just go in there and help her finish up.
But during the meantime, Tara sat back and traced the stars on her ceiling. And there's Mom's favorite. Mine too. 'Course, now that I'm a fucking vampire I'm not supposed to care about this cutesy shit.
Fifteen minutes passed before Willow finally emerged from the bathroom, looking chilled. A fuzzy robe covered in cartoon animals blocked any view and prevented any naughty thoughts on Tara's side. Considering the girl looked like a seven-year-old, she'd feel less like a horny creature of the night and more like a pedophile.
Not that vampires didn't get into that. But that was just a bit far in Tara's opinion.
"You've got a bear on your ass," Tara observed.
Willow spun around, clutching her pajamas to her chest. "Jeez, I forgot you were in here! You freaky vampires and your stealth! And perversity! I don't think I can wear this thing ever again!"
Tara peered into the closet that Willow had cracked open. "Has anyone ever told you that it looked like your mother took your clothes from kindergarten and super-sized them?"
"Nope. I pick out all my own clothing, my parents just throw the money at me. They're always too busy to do anything, so I don't see why I can't make a darned fool of myself while I'm at it."
"Aw, don't kick yourself for it. Think about it this way, now I'm positive that your parents hate you. And they'd never notice if you went missing," Tara stated. She expected for the girl to turn around and sob about how right she was.
Instead, she got a faceful of burning, searing liquid. She screeched, stumbling backward, trying to wipe the holy water from her eyes as she heard the witch close in on her.
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A/N: And I think I'll end it there! Review, stalk the fanfic, let me know I'm not a horrible person, anything!