Author's Note: I cannot apologize enough for not getting this story updated for so long. I had a case of writer's block, but now that's all cleared up. I hope you guys are satisfied with this chapter; I stayed up until 2:30a.m. to get this baby done.

Half & Half

Chapter Five: The Worst Of It

"I come to you at the turn of the tide…"

—Gandalf, 'The Lord the Rings: The Two Towers'

Illyria tilted her cranium nearer to her shoulder, as she often did, her unblinking eyes unswayed by the few distractions the room had to offer. Her mind repeated the instructions she'd received at the word of an ancient power, knowing that if one single word was lost, if one simple item was forgotten, the world would be in turmoil. These humans would be hostile, this she knew, but her strength was a formable rival to the Slayer's, so Illyria would likely not become injured. She assessed the instructions mentally one last time, just as the Slayer had fixated her gaze on her.

"Could this day get any weirder?" Faith asked no one in particular, just staring at Illyria for a moment. The blue girl seemed familiar, but Faith couldn't place her. Then it hit her. "Holy shit—Fred?"

Illyria smiled as Wesley had taught her, but this time, it wasn't on purpose. It was at random. "Winifred Burkle is my shell—I inhabited her." She said it lightly, as if it would explain everything.

Tru and Davis looked even more confused than Faith did, if that was possible. Fighting the urge to attack Illyria, Faith questioned venomously, "Who are you, then? What did you do with Fred?"

"Fred is dead. They all are. Angel, Wesley, Cordelia, Gunn, and Spike—"

"Spike?" Faith repeated. "He died a year ago."

"He lived," Illyria corrected. "And died once more."

And for a moment, it finally sunk in; she was stunned, shocked, whammied. Angel Investigations dead? How could that be? He knew them all, some acquaintances, others she'd known since she arrived in Sunnydale all those years ago. For a moment, she didn't move. She didn't even breathe.

And another revelation dawned on her. This thing must've done it. Wordlessly, she slammed Illyria against the morgue's wall. "I was only the cause of Fred's perishment!" Illyria yelled, pushed Faith away effortlessly. She had lost much of her original strength, but the potency of her power still remained. "I am a messenger," she added, as Faith prepared to recoil.

"For what?" Davis asked, almost 100% sure he was dreaming.

"The Powers That Be," Illyria answered, making Davis and Tru even more baffled. "The War is coming."

"What war?" Faith snapped; she was quickly losing her patience.

"A War to end all wars, a war between the vampire and its Slayer. An ultimate battle—one that will not decide the freedom of a country or a claim to land, but the fate of all of the races of the Earth. And you, bitter, dark Slayer, are the epicenter of this War."

Faith was really despising the way Illyria was addressing her. Only one other had called her dark Slayer. "You must fight, along with the fated Slayer and the light Slayer."

"You mean Tru and Buffy?"

"Yes."

Tru spoke up, suddenly, "And what if I don't want to fight in this war, uh?" she asked forebodingly. "It's not like working for some higher power hasn't ruined my life already," she paused. "I had someone I loved… a lot, but no, that wasn't enough, was it? Luc had to die because I'm fate's bitch. I don't want the future of the world in my hands anymore and—"

"WAR IS INEVITABLE!" Illyria interrupted crossly, yelling. "You have a purpose, and you are to fulfill it, whether you have a claim of anger against the Powers That Be or not, you will do this. You do not have a choice." Her voice held hostility within it still. "Your opportunity is a gift, not a privilege."

"Some gift…" Tru mumbled. "Allow me to take this opportunity to not care about the fate of the world for once!"

"Just listen to me; you and everyone you love will die screaming if you do not attempt this task. A warrior is being apprenticed by the most ancient, dark beast imaginable. It was feared in my time, even by the demons that are consistently feared beyond reckoning in this time. You must stop him… he will strike this place, making no haste, striking quickly and lethally as a cobra. He will come soon, and it will follow."

Illyria suddenly looked away, "My time here has past, and I must depart… forever…"

"What—who are you?" Faith questioned.

"Illyria."

And with that, she was gone.

The remainder of the day was spent with explanations, stories from each side of who they were as people, and who they were as supernatural beings. Loose ends were tied and they each had a better idea of who they all were. But fond memories were exchanged as well.

In the middle of one such story (one involving Faith, an ice cream cone, and a Great Dane), the morgue doors opened, and Faith was surprised, not for the first time that day.

Buffy, Willow, Xander, Dawn, Giles, and Oz walk through the door; all eyes on Tru and Faith.

"Dawn, slap me, please," Xander requested.

"Why?"

"Just slap me." She hit him hard, her hand stinging the surface of his cheekbones. "Okay, I'm not dreaming."

"Faith has a clone?" Willow piped up.

"No," Buffy smiled, making eye contact with each of the Davies girls. "A sister."

"Harry! I'm home, and you won't believe—"

Tru's pupils dilated as she came upon one of the most horrifying sights her eyes had ever looked upon.

The furniture was shredded and crushed, and everything was broken. Faith, and the Scoobies entered cautiously, Tru thoroughly frightened.

Buffy and Dawn began to clean up the broken pieces of furniture, "I guess someone's looking for you." Buffy surmised.

"It must be that warrior guy Illyria was talking about. He probably sent some vampires after Tru. They probably weren't too happy about not finding her here." Oz added, and from the looks of it, he was probably right.

Tru couldn't hear what her sister's friends were saying, though. She was too worried about her brother. "Harry!" she shouted hoarsely, shifting an overturned couch.

Harrison. And Lindsay.

Two fang marks were pricked into their necks, and Tru prayed they were alive. Kneeling down, she franticly searched for a pulse. They were both alive. Just barely.

Faith entered the living room, where Tru was panicking. "Oh, God." Faith said. "It's that idiot I met on the street this morning… is that?"

"Your brother?" Tru turned to Faith. "Yeah. Harrison. The idiot."

"Who's the other?"

"Lindsay, my best friend… call 911, they need help!"

Dawn, who just entered as well, scurried off to the nearby phone.

Faith picked up an overturned table and…it's Lily. She's dead. They didn't even feed. They just snapped her tiny neck. Her twisted little body crumpled on the floor, milky white eyes open and staring at nothing, with her tears still wet on her face. Damnit, she must have been so scared. Faith thought, on verge of tears.

Tru's eyes caught on Lily's body, instantly recognizing her neighbor, and she burst. "Faith…" she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I'm not even a real Slayer, I apparently just have the history. The dreams. I'm not sure about anything anymore… and it scares the hell out of me. But I know that fighting is what I need to do… what I should do.

"Faith, let's make some war."