Fury of the Beast 21/?

Disclaimer: I'm making nothing off of this. I don't even own stock in White Wolf or in Mutant Enemy, so this is all for simple enjoyment. So...enjoy it already!

Hey guys. Here's part 21, I hope you like it. Please, review. Feedback is important.

Vanessa and Sandra sat in the hospital waiting room, both of them nervous and worried over Jack. As they waited, Sandra tried to take her mind off of things by browsing the three-year-old magazines in the waiting room, while Vanessa kept wringing her hands and chewing her lip.

Eventually, a gray-haired, old grizzled doctor came out and spoke quietly, a frown on his face. "Miss Stevens, Miss Raine?"

Sandra stood up, while Vanessa spoke. "Yes doctor, what is it?"

He replied. "Mister Morris would like to see you now. If you'll come with me, I'll show you to his room."

Vanessa and Sandra followed the doctor down the halls, into Jack's room. Jack nodded to the doctor, who excused himself, and Vanessa ran up to him and hugged him. "Hey kiddo, I'd get up to make this more comfortable, but I'm nice and comfy right now." He spoke, a small smile on his face.

Vanessa smiled slightly. "Master, stop trying to make me feel better. It's my fault this happened."

His smile dropped off his face in an instant. "Don't blame yourself for this. I've been fighting long before I met you, it was my choice to fight. It's not your fault." He spoke.

Sandra spoke up. "That's true, Vanessa. There is nothing you could have done differently to change what's happened here. You were against a more experienced opponent, who used the territory and items on hand to her advantage."

Vanessa felt tears running down her cheeks. "It's still my fault! I should have been able to beat her! I'm the Slayer, and it's my duty, my responsibility to keep people like you from getting hurt."

Jack's expression hardened. "No, your duty is to protect those people who can't protect themselves. Your responsibility is to help those who don't know how to help themselves to learn, for those willing. I could protect myself, but I messed up."

Vanessa sighed, and hugged Jack more tightly, while Sandra came up behind Vanessa and patted her shoulder. She spoke quietly. "So how bad is it, Jack?"

Jack sighed. "The docs say my spine is crushed at the small of my back. I'm probably never going to walk again, they say. Just to show them up, I'll find a way. I'm not going to let some fool doctor tell me how to run my life."

Vanessa couldn't help but crack a smile at that.

He went on. "Listen kiddo, there's nothing they can do about it, and you can't beat yourself up over what you might have done differently. I don't blame you for this, and you can't change what happened any more than I could, or Sandra could. So calm down, take a deep breath, and have some ice cream or whatever comfort food you've moved onto nowadays."

Vanessa nodded, wiping away her tears as she hugged Jack more tightly. He just patted her on the back, trying to comfort her as she sobbed into his shoulder.

Sandra watched on, understanding and compassion in her eyes as she watched her charge and her teacher comfort the other.

Allandra was awoken in her bedroom by the sound of pounding on the front door of the apartment she and Xander shared. Grumbling, she got up and stretched her wings, before folding them and putting on a bathrobe.

She opened the door, blinking repeatedly as the light from the hallways stabbed into her eyes. Letting her eyes adjust to see the person who'd awoken her, only to find a distraught looking Slayer.

"Can I come in?" Vanessa asked, chewing on her lip.

Opening the door more widely, Vanessa walked in, looking around the place. "Nice place you have here. Not sure why I didn't come by before."

Allandra rubbed her eyes, raising an eyebrow. "What is this about, Vanessa? Something tells me this isn't a courtesy call."

Vanessa sighed, and plopped down on the couch, bouncing a couple of times. "It's not. Is Xander around?"

Allandra nodded, yawning a bit. "Yes, but he's asleep."

Vanessa blinked, checking her watch. "But it's three-thirty! He shouldn't be asleep at this time!"

Allandra just looked at Vanessa. "He's a vampire, remember. He can move around in the daytime, but he doesn't like it and he still needs rest. He'll probably be up around seven."

Vanessa sighed, wringing her hands. "You sure you can't wake him up? I mean, this is really important, and I think Xander's the only one who can help me."

Allandra shook her head. "Not after what happened today. Any other day, I would, but now, he needs time to recuperate, time to heal. How about I give you a call as soon as he's up? That is, if it can wait a bit?"

Vanessa chewed her lip, then shook her head. "No, I don't think that's a good idea. I mean, Sandra and I share a phone line, I wouldn't want her to pick up. This is just an idea, right now."

Allandra rubbed her forehead and sighed. "Alright. There's some juice and salad in the fridge, I'm going to take a shower and then we'll go out. We'll come on back around six-thirty and wait for Xander then."

Vanessa looked up at Allandra and nodded. "Okay. Sounds good."

Out on the town, Allandra and Vanessa took their time. They went everywhere. They went to the beauty parlor. They walked along the beach, both girls commenting on how they didn't get to do that often enough. They went to Starbucks, which, naturally, had sprung up everywhere and was going strong.

Only after going back to Xander's apartment did they relax, away from the ears of the commonfolk. Allandra walked in, looking into Xander's room, and seeing he was still asleep, sighed and shut the door.

Turning back to Vanessa, she shrugged. "Sorry, he's still out cold. He should be up and about soon, though."

Vanessa nodded, sitting down and turning on the TV, on a low volume, hoping old reruns of the Simpsons would take her mind off of things. After sixty years, the show had hit cultural icon status. Seemingly as eternal as the Star Trek universe, the Simpsons had gone on and on and on, still on the air.

About fifteen minutes into the show, Xander emerged from his room, rubbing his eyes, not out of any real need, but out of habit. He glanced at Allandra and Vanessa watching the Simpsons, and broke out into a grin. "Oh! Oh! I know this one! Isn't it the one where Bart gets run over by Mister Burns and they try to get money from him? God this is old! Do people still love it?"

Vanessa looked up at Xander and smiled a bit. "Yep, still do. There's entire groups out there that worship the Simpsons. I think there's a church of Homer out in Iowa."

Xander couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. He reached out for the end of the couch to steady himself, but he missed, and hit the floor, still laughing. That did it for Vanessa, too, and she started laughing along with the hysterical vampire. Allandra started giggling at the scene, covering her mouth with her hand, occasionally hiccuping as she tried as hard as she could to keep from going into full-blown laughter.

Eventually, the trio calmed down. Xander picked himself up off the floor, and went to the fridge. Opening one of the wine bottles holding his blood, he poured it into a cup and took a drink. After a moment, he looked down at the cup, a somewhat suspicious look on his face, but he finished his awakening meal.

Vanessa cleared her throat. Xander looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "Alright, something tells me this isn't a courtesy call."

Vanessa nodded, and looked to Allandra. "Would you mind? I need to talk this over with Xander alone."

Looking over to Xander, Allandra saw him nod, and she nodded in return. "Alright. I'm going to pick up some groceries anyway. Behave, you two!" She mock scolded them.

Xander rolled his eyes, grinning a little bit. "Yes mom."

Allandra chuckled lowly to herself even as she walked out the door.

Xander turned to Vanessa, curiosity on his face. "Alright, so what's up, Vanessa? I'm getting the feeling you want to drop a bomb on me. Or ask me something really, really, really, important, hey?"

Vanessa nodded. "I'm wondering if...if you'd turn Master Morris into..well, made him like you."

All the humor dropped from Xander's face in a second. Pulling up a chair, he moved it so he was directly across from Vanessa, and sat down in it. Looking directly into her eyes, he spoke. "Do you have any idea what it means to be one of my kind? The slightest clue?"

Vanessa's eyes hardened. "It means you'll never get sick, can heal anything and always strong. You have your soul. You're not a monster."

Xander sighed and sat back in his chair. "Yes, but those are the advantages. I'm dead, Vanessa. I died sixty-three years ago. I'm not a monster now, but there is one within me. Do you remember hearing about some deaths in the sewers of L.A. a while back?"

She nodded hesitantly. He went on. "That was me. I'm not proud of it. I'm not happy about it. I have nightmares sometimes about what I did when I woke up, my instincts fully in command. I'm a nice guy, but even the nicest of us have that lurking under the surface. You're not asking me to heal him, Vanessa. You're asking me to give him an ancient curse. You're asking me to kill him and then force him to exist in a hollow mockery of life."

Vanessa sighed. "It doesn't look like that to me. You look quite well off now, you've got a girl who cares a lot about you. You've managed to make friends, and dealt with both Spike and Bu..Beth. You're more powerful than you ever could have been as a human."

Xander shook his head. "More powerful. Yeah. Honestly, though, I'd have rather stayed human than become...this. I can't eat or drink anything other than blood, I can't enjoy the warmth of the sun, and every moment of every night I exist I have to put up with constant reminders that I'm not human anymore. I don't feel warm or cold, unless it's really extreme. I don't feel anything really. I hate being a vampire, it's better than being dead entirely, mind you, as I can still make a difference to people here. But, Jack can still make a difference without losing his humanity."

Vanessa looked at Xander, pleading him with her eyes. "Please, I can't stand seeing him like this. He's one of the best men I've ever known. He doesn't deserve to be paralyzed for the rest of his life!"

Xander looked at Vanessa, sympathy in his eyes. "Do you think he deserves to be cursed for the rest of eternity, or go to Hell when he dies? That's what happens to us. My kind are damned, Vanessa. I don't know if I'll go for sure, but every time I see a little bit of sunlight or look into a flame, some part of me is damn sure that's where I'm going if I died. That's why I didn't walk into the first sunrise when I was still a fledgling. I was afraid of what would happen to me."

Vanessa finally broke down, covering her face with her hands, crying into them. Xander got up out of his chair and sat beside Vanessa, trying to comfort the Slayer with his presence. She wrested away from him, and ran out the door, tears falling down her face. He watched helplessly as she left, and he sighed to himself, feeling just how heavily his damnation weighed down on him.

After nightfall in Sunnydale, Xander and Allandra went out. As Allandra was driving to The Haven, Xander was playing with the radio, eventually giving up on finding some kind of music he liked. "Isn't there an oldies station on here somewhere?"

Allandra smiled slightly, then jumped in surprise as the driver's side tires blew out suddenly. Jerking the wheel over, she brought the car to a stop. Xander muttered a curse as he got out and circled around, while Allandra opened her door and looked at the damage, and swore in a few of the languages she knew.

Xander groaned, looking at the deflated tires. "Aw man! What are the odds that both tires would blow out!?"

Allandra tapped Xander on the shoulder, then pointed behind him. "What are the odds somebody would leave a spike strip on the road?"

He looked back, and sighed, hanging his head. "This is just not my day. Night. Whatever. Aw man! Can it get any worse?"

True to the laws of nature, uttering those words made the situation worse. There was a meaty thunk, and Xander's eyes crossed. He fell to the ground, a stake expertly lodged in his back, piercing his heart.

"Xander!" Allandra screamed. Even as she moved toward the fallen vampire to help him, there was suddenly a sharp pain in her chest as a knife appeared, right in her heart.

She gasped, falling to her knees, her hand instinctively wrapping around the hilt of the knife. The air in front of her rippled, revealing a person who had, obviously, been there the entire time. He was large, six and a half feet tall, sporting a blue mohawk, and he looked down at her with a large grin on his face. "Sorry luv, nothin personal." He spoke.

With a scream, Allandra jerked the knife out of her chest and sprung to her feet, slashing toward the man's face. He backed away with a grace that spoke of years of training, easily deflecting her enraged strike and pushing her to the side, causing her to stumble. Before she could get her balance back, he slammed his foot into her ribs, causing her to grunt with the pain, and she collapsed on the ground, lying in a heap.

The man smirked, looking down at her chest even as the wound from the knife sealed itself before his eyes. "Not bad, pet. I was told ye'd be pretty durable, but being durable doesn't mean jack if yer not trained." Another vicious kick, and Allandra was picked up off the ground by the sheer force of the blow, flying through the air until she smacked into the plexiglass of a storefront window.

Taking another knife out of his leather jacket, Abdul advanced on the broken half-demon, when a pressure slammed into his side, causing him to grunt. Milliseconds later, he heard the sound of the gunshot that had sent the bullet his way.

With his age and power, a mere single bullet wasn't much of a threat to him, but he hadn't become a Master Disciple of the Assamites by being foolish. He ducked into an alleyway, sneering as he looked over, seeing the girl's vampire comrade still down with the stake firmly lodged in his back. 'Then who shot me? One of his friends? I was sure they were alone.'

A voice came drifting out of the darkness. "It's good to see you again, 'Pink'. I was wondering why you're using the same outfit now, hm?"

Abdul's eyes went flat as he recognized the voice. "Wilhem. What the hell do you think you're doing here, you Sabbat freak!? I'm surprised you're not hanging around with that prissy little girl, Christof Romuald."

Wilhem laughed lightly. "That prissy little girl managed to kill your clan's founder, Abdul."

Abdul growled. "Shut up!" Replacing his knife, Abdul pulled out a handgun and sprung out of his cover, using the power of Celerity to give him some leeway while he fired at the old Brujah. Wilhem used Celerity as he dodged Abdul's bullets, returning his own volley at the same time.

To Allandra's eyes, it appeared as if two blurs were firing at each other, both vampires moving so fast it was impossible to tell where they were exactly, only where they might have been moments ago. She struggled to pick herself up, and feeling her wounds sealing themselves, she moved over to Xander. Gripping the stake lodged firmly in his back, she pulled it out.

With a grunt, the young Brujah rolled to his feet. "I hate stakes! They always ruin my clothing!" He looked up, seeing the two blurs bounding around, shooting at each other, and quickly grabbed Allandra's hand and ducked into the same alley Abdul had used moments before.

Wilhem dodged another bullet easily. At the level of Celerity he was capable of, the world appeared to move far slower than it normally did. Abdul had the same level, not only was it a Discipline of the Assamites, as a Master Disciple he'd had more than enough practice to master the Discipline.

Running out of an ammo clip, Wilhem dropped the gun and moved in toward Abdul. Easily dodging the bullets Abdul sent his way, Wilhem lashed out with a kick, and the old Brujah's attack struck true, slamming into Abdul's chest. The Assamite flew back from the hit, slamming into a wall with a grunt.

Both Kindred moved out of Celerity in the same moment, attacking each other with punches and kicks delivered at a level that only vampires could.

Abdul was a master of death, of killing. But Wilhem was a master at fighting. He'd been fighting for more than nine centuries. Every strike Abdul made, Wilhem blocked and countered. Abdul ducked under a punch and slammed his fist into Wilhem's ribs, which managed to force the Brujah back a few feet.

Reaching into his jacket, Abdul grabbed his knife and held it in a defensive stance, backing away from the old Brujah. Wilhem didn't look fazed at all at the appearance of the weapon. Abdul spoke. "You're good, Wilhem. I'd hate to kill you without getting paid for it."

Wilhem shrugged. "You'll survive, I'm sure. However, I'm not quite ready to let you go, Abdul." Wilhem flexed his hands, which instantly grew into long claws. Activating Celerity once again, Wilhem charged forward, the deadly claws flashing toward Abdul. Abdul moved back as fast as he could, but unfortunately, it wasn't fast enough. Wilhem's unnaturally sharp claws cleaved through the knife, sending it falling the concrete in three pieces. His next attack cut off Abdul's right arm.

The Assamite screamed, turning away from the raging Brujah, hoping in some corner of his mind that if he could get some distance he might be able to escape, to complete his contract another day.

Wilhem had other ideas, however. He jumped on the fleeing vampire's back, his wickedly sharp claws ripping through Abdul's flesh as easily as if Abdul were made out of tissue paper. Again and again Wilhem's claws flashed in the night, bringing new screams from the Assamite. Soon Abdul no longer struggled. He went limp, and his body began to dissolve, crumbling into dust as Wilhem let up his assault.

Wilhem stood, retracting his claws as he looked over to the alleyway. Xander was standing beside Allandra, both with very tense muscles, watching Wilhem carefully. Wilhem raised his hands in a nonthreatening manner and walked toward them, slowly. He spoke. "I apologize for not arriving sooner, but I am glad you're not hurt. Can I render assistance?"

Allandra coughed lightly, but shook her head. "I think we'll be alright. You..knew that man?"

Wilhem nodded slowly. "He was hired to kill a friend of mine some time ago. He would have succeeded had he not decided to use him to kill his enemies."

Xander nodded to Wilhem. "Look, obviously this hasn't been a good day. Come by The Haven tomorrow night and we'll talk, alright?"

Wilhem nodded. "Sounds good. Whom should I ask for?"

Xander smiled slightly. "Xander Harris. I own the place."

Wilhem rose an eyebrow, and scratched his bearded chin. "See you tomorrow evening then."

Ifrit walked into the hospital, wearing the typical white coat of a doctor. It was rather easy to disguise oneself when one can simply make up the clothing and identification out of thin air.

Striding confidently, but taking his time, attracting no attention as he moved, he walked into Jack Morris' room. Looking around with a practiced eye, he examined the martial artist for the first time with his own two eyes.

He was strong, strong of mind, will and discipline. It would be fun twisting that around on himself, using his own strengths against him until he was a mocking parody of what he should have been. His chest rose and fell calmly, indicating the martial artist was in deep sleep. A simple shift in his perception showed that he was also out cold because of sleeping pills.

Rubbing his chin for a moment, Ifrit considered how to go about this carefully. Waving his hand at a corner of the room, a burst of flame broke out. It compressed itself and flared brightly for a moment, before manifesting itself into a complete human skeleton. Walking over to the skeleton, he crushed the lower back with a single jerk of his wrist.

Standing up with a smirk, he grabbed Jack by the neck, forcing the man to suddenly wake, groggy on the drugs.

"Hello, little man. I see you're awake. I think it's about time we changed our scenery, hm?" Ifrit spoke, a wide, sharklike smile on his face.

With a wave of his hand, the room burst into flames. With another wave, Ifrit and Jack were wrapped in flames, and the pair disappeared.

Unlike mundane fire, Ifrit's flames were far more potent. They burnt at a hotter temperature while consuming less flammable material. So by the time the firefighters managed to put out the flames that were quickly spreading throughout the hospital, ten people had been seriously wounded with third degree burns. By the time they reached the source of the fire, they found only a charred, blackened skeleton.

Ifrit and Jack reappeared in the abandoned church. Tossing the uncomfortable Jack, clad only in a hospital gown, onto an old, crumbling pew, the Devil Lord sneered down at the human.

Speaking in a pleasant, but arrogant tone, he began. "Now, Mister Morris. We have a little bit of time to talk. I have something that you want. You have skills that I want. We can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement."

Jack coughed a couple of times, wiping his face. He looked up at the Devil Lord with a glare. "Why the hell should I listen to an arrogant pompous ass who's depriving me of my beauty sleep?"

Ifrit laughed. "Come now, Jack. You don't mind if I call you Jack, hm? Didn't think so." He went on before Jack could even open his mouth. "You can't tell me you're enjoying the idea of spending the rest of your life in a wheelchair. Of being helpless until the day you die."

Jack clenched his hands, but couldn't voice the denial he dredged up out of his mind. "Yeah, well, it's better than being dead."

Ifrit chuckled. "Perhaps. But I can restore your mobility. Your life. And all you have to do, is do me a favor."

Jack sighed, rubbing his face, his mind on the entire lack of feeling in his lower body. "Alright, you have my attention. I'm listening."

Ifrit reached into his pocket and pulled out a pendant, fitted with a blood-red stone. He tossed it to Jack, who caught it easily. "All I need you to do is kill someone. It should be fairly simple, considering your advanced skills."

Jack tossed the pendant to the floor, shaking his head. "Sorry, I'm not a hired killer. Not even for my legs, I won't kill for you."

Ifrit sighed, rolling his eyes. "My my. A hero complex, hm? You didn't even ask who I wanted dead. Oh well. See Jack, what I didn't mention before is, your cooperation is not required. Normally when I do this I simply take the essence of a devil and use it to transform one such as yourself." Ifrit opened his hand and the pendant flew back into it. "However, in your case, I suppose I shall have to be a little more..... drastic."

He whipped the pendant at Jack, hard. The blood-red stone collided with Jack's chest with a crunch. Even as Jack grunted with the pain of more of his bones breaking, a hot feeling spread throughout his body. He grasped the pendant's chains, trying to pull it away from him, but to no avail, it wasn't going to move.

Even worse, it was burrowing its way into his body. Jack screamed with agony as it tore through his flesh, punching past his ribcage and incinerating his heart. The stone took up the organ's previous position, fulfilling all of its functions despite its lack of muscles.

And Jack was kept alive throughout the entire process. He screamed as the chains of the pendant wormed their way through his body, wrapping themselves around his vitals, expanding and growing like some horrible parasite. His wounds sealed themselves, and Jack went limp. His labored breathing echoed throughout the ruined church, an occasional racking cough barely indicating the agony he was going through.

A few moments later, Jack's eyes fluttered open, and he smiled slightly. Standing slowly from his seat, he sank to one knee in front of the Devil Lord. "I thank you, my master, for this gift. What is your wish?"

Ifrit smiled slightly, pleasantly. "Go to ground for a few days. Your body needs to adjust to its new state. But before you go, I need your name."

He nodded. "Of course my lord. I am Kail, Devil Knight of the Third Rank. I am your humble servant."

Ifrit nodded. "Glad to hear it. I trust this body is comfortable for you?"

Kail nodded enthusiastically. "Indeed it is. Strong, lithe, powerful. The host's mind is also quite pleasing as well. He has an impressive array of fighting styles and knowledge at his command."

Ifrit smirked. "Good, that was why I sought him out in the first place. Any problems with the transition?"

Kail shook his head. "None my lord."

Ifrit looked pleased. "Good. Now go. I will contact you again in three days."

Kail nodded, rising from his place on the floor and walking out of the church. Somewhere in that body, the mind and soul of Jack Morris was sealed up, locked inside of the mind of the veteran Devil Knight occupying his body. He screamed and pushed against the mental barriers, to no avail.

Ifrit turned back and looked at the large cross standing in the church. He waited a short while, and then sighed. "What is it? I'd rather be left alone at this time, my servant."

The sound of footsteps approached Ifrit from behind, cautiously. He heard the rustle of the person sinking to the floor, kneeling in reverence to the former god. "I apologize, my lord. But some information has come to my attention and I believed it best that you heard it as soon as possible."

Ifrit sighed again. "Very well, what is it, Goral?"

His servant answered. "Some vampires are going to open the Hellmouth tomorrow night, my lord. Apparently they believe it is a good idea to sink even lower on the food chain."

Ifrit snorted. "I cannot believe they are related to us. No intelligence, no vision. Only stupidity and evil. Pathetic, really. I suppose I'll have to deal with them. No idiotic leech is going to send me back into Hell without me saying something about it."

"Very well my lord, if that is all?" Goral spoke.

Ifrit nodded. "You may go. Keep up your charade, Goral. I'd hate to lose a servant such as yourself."

Goral rose to his feet. He turned and strode out of the church, looking up at the moon as he did so. Smiling slightly, he walked along, his feet taking him to a place that was quickly becoming familiar.

Knocking on the door, he waited a moment. He smiled slightly as he heard a thump, before the door opened, revealing a somewhat happy Xander Harris. Xander's grin widened, clapping Goral on the shoulder.

Xander spoke. "Hey, Oz-man, good to see you again."

In an old home in Sunnydale, two women sat together, a circle of salt surrounding them both, attempting to find the location of their quarry. One had dark red hair, the other was blonde. A bright blue light hovered between them, moving down onto the floor, tracing a pattern which both followed with practiced eyes.

Finally, the redhead broke the ritual, looking up into the blonde's eyes. "I've found him. I'll have to contact my Caern."

The blonde nodded. "Good. In the meantime, I have to see if I can contact Xander. I wish I'd known he'd been reawakened. Stupid Hellmouth kept throwing off my tracking spells."

The redhead sighed. "This place stinks of the Wyrm. I hate it. Too many Wyrmspawn running around, it gives me a headache."

The blonde sighed. "Three years ago you'd have considered me one of them, remember Aura?"

Aura rolled her eyes. "You're different. You don't smell like them. You don't even have the same traits as most of them. The only way you're weird at all is...well, you know."

The blonde shrugged. "I think I explained as much as I could to you. Each of my kind is different, depending on the founder, and the person. Not all of us are monsters. A lot are, though."

Aura shrugged. "Perhaps so. It's the only reason I hold myself back from killing on sight, now. The others still follow the old ways, and I can't say I blame them. It's not easy, finding those who actually seek to do some good in our world. We'll go after him in the morning, when he won't be expecting us, all right?"

The blonde nodded. "Alright. You realize that we won't be able to contact Xander until nightfall. He's not likely to be up and about until then. Maybe a little before, but not until then."

Aura nodded. "I can understand that." She got up and walked to the bedroom, closing the door behind her as she did so.

The blonde got up and sighed, going to her own room. She looked at the photographs that showed her life, in far happier times. Tracing her fingers around the figures in the photo, she felt a tear run down her cheek.

Quietly, she spoke. "Willow, I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I just hope you're in a better place."

And with that, Tara Maclay went to bed, waiting for the next day.

Well, there ya go. Part 21. Enjoy!

Feedback is much appreciated. Please, anything you got. Questions, comments, suggestions, anything.

See you guys later.

Nick.