Willow and Tara made a pact in the middle of the night, while asleep. They did this so naturally that it hardly felt like magic anymore, it was just life: No more conversations about our relationship until we decide what the fuck to do about this weird new subspecies of vamp. Funny how neither of them were in the habit of cursing in waking life, but often did when they solidified agreements in that realm.
When Tara woke up, she had a plan.
"We've missed the most obvious thing!" she said, leaping out of bed the moment she heard Willow indicate wakefulness.
"Obvious what?" Willow asked blearily.
"We know these guys aren't like the other ones, right? That's why nothing's working. So we need to do what we don't do with vampires ever."
Willow sat up. "What's that? Invite them to tea?"
"Kind of," Tara said, adrenaline and nervousness energizing her. "We need to talk to them. We need to ask them what they want."
"But what if they don't talk?" Willow asked. "What if they just start fighting and they're not any different after all?"
"We'll have stakes," Tara said. "And…and we'll have Faith."
Willow got out of bed slowly. "Right," she said. "Faith. Great."
"Honey I promise it was a one-time—"
"We said we weren't going to talk about it," Willow said, through gritted teeth. "We're not talking about it."
"But I just—"
"Remember the pact, okay?"
Tara relaxed. To acknowledge the pact was also to reinforce the understanding and unparalleled connection between them. They would get through this, once they got through this.
"I told Faith I would call her if we thought of a plan," Tara said slowly. "Unless she called us first, with a plan, but she didn't, so I guess she doesn't have a plan. You can call her if you want. I mean I definitely don't have to call."
Willow took a deep breath. "I'm not overly excited about talking to Faith," she said. "I've never been. You and I are different, I guess. Sorry. I just said we're not gonna talk about it."
"If we need to—"
"There's no time," she said. "Here, you call."
Tara took the phone as though she was afraid it might burn. She dialed Faith's number almost as nervously as she had before she'd—
"I have zero ideas," Faith announced by way of hello when she picked up the phone. "So I'm glad you called. What's the plan?"
"It's a little vague to start with," Tara said. "But there's something we've never done with vampires because why would we?" She faltered. Now that she was about to say it out loud, it sounded naive.
"Not the best time for suspense, Tara," Faith reminded her.
"Talk," Tara said. "I mean talk to the vampires. Ask them why they're here."
Faith laughed. Tara couldn't deny a tingling visceral pleasure she received from the sound. "You're funny," she said. "I like that about you. Funny even at a time like this. Now what's the actual plan?"
"I'm," Tara paused. "I'm serious."
"Vampire group therapy? You think that's the solution?"
"It's not therapy, it's a tactic," Tara countered, with uncharacteristic assertiveness.
Faith made a playful growling sound.
"Don't…do that," Tara said in a near-whisper.
"Why, does it turn you on or something? Sorry! I'm sorry. I'm really not—it's just nerves.
"Nerves? You?"
"I'm human too, Tara. And contrary to what some of your friends might believe, I also have feelings."
"Right, I—"
"And so do these particular vampires? Is that what we're betting on?"
"Not betting, just trying," Tara said.
"You know the expression 'die trying'?"
"Meet us at The Bronze in twenty minutes," Tara told her. She hung up before she, or Faith, could say anything else.