Van Rosenberg by Alcy

Rating: PG-13
Uber-Setting: Van Helsing/Dracula/Tomb Raider
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Buffy, Tomb Raider or Dracula characters. This fic is of course AU so no spoilers for any season.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse: http://mysticmuse.net
Through the Looking-glass
Feedback: Yes please.
Spoilers: None
Author's Notes: Diary entries are going to be in italics but hopefully they will not be confused with thoughts as they will be mostly placed at the beginning of a chapter. This fic borrows thematic elements from several sources, most notably Bram Stoker's Dracula and the 2004 film, Van Helsing and structural elements from Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian. The story itself and several of its characters are my own.
Webhost's Note: Special thanks goes to Chris Cook of Through the Looking Glass, MKF and Artemis for the graphics, wallpapers and source coding. Thanks, Chris!
Pairing: Willow/Tara

Summary: The discovery of a diary and the journey that follows will disrupt everything Willow has ever known, including her own identity, and reunite her with a love she never knew she lost.

It had been over four decades since Tara had last laid eyes on the man responsible for the humiliating and heartbreaking period at the end of her mortal life. Although the experience had been relatively brief it was now another scar that Tara had to carry with her, deeply etched into the fabric of her life. As a demon, her marriage held little consequence for her and was forgotten in the face of the larger and more interesting work around the skull…and Willow Van Helsing. Edward Walsh had lain dormant at the back of her mind, resurfacing only when her soul was restored and she was capable of recognizing those memories as being exceptionally painful. Throughout the years spent in her physically and emotionally dark prison, she had used the memories of what Edward had done to her as a form of punishment. She forced herself to relieve each moment, from the gut-wrenching expression on Willow's face when she chose to marry Edward to the merciless manner in which he had forced himself on her every night of their short marriage. It had been effective torture indeed.

Tara was not expecting to find any sort of closure in a confrontation with Edward. Even as she stood on the footpath, staring up at his impressively ornate mansion, she could not decide exactly why she was there. Revenge of course played foremost in her mind. She was a creature of the night, un-dead and possessed with an inhuman strength, more than enough strength to punish Edward for what he had done to her. However, as she stood in front of his home she could not see herself murdering an old man…despite the severity of his past crimes.

Whatever sort of man Edward Walsh had been upon his return from Europe with news of his dead bride, it appeared not to have affected the rest of his life. Tara remembered Giles telling her that Edward was a long-serving and successful, if not universally well-liked, politician. She had never cared for such petty affairs of mortals but from the appearance of his home she had to guess that he had done extremely well for himself. This could not help but stir the bitter pangs of regret in her heart. Obviously Edward had done what he needed to be happy in life…whereas she had chosen to suffer for her family.

There were few lights glowing from the windows of the Walsh residence but Tara remembered Edward as a man who preferred to stay awake throughout the night and sleep through much of the day. She stood gazing up at a second floor window light by the dim glow of several candles and instinctively knew that was where she would find him. Tara concentrated; slowly her body lost any semblance of solidity as she morphed into her incorporeal form. The ability to shape shift was an ability possessed only by the most powerful vampires. For Tara it had been a strange development following her release from her cell, as it seemed to contradict the augmentation of her humanity.

Still, the ability was proving useful, no more so than as she slipped through a slight gap beneath a window and into the room beyond. Her instincts had been correct; sitting at a desk on the far side of the room was none other than Edward Walsh himself. While he was of a similar age to Abraham Van Helsing, the years had obviously been far kinder to Edward Walsh. Despite his advancing age his face possessed none of the haggard lines and sagging skin that had so marked Abraham. The lines etched into his brow were faint and his jowls were plump from a life of good living.

Tara reformed un-noticed in one shadowed corner of the room, content to observe him for a few moments before announcing her presence. He was working steadily on the papers in front of him with a diligence and concentration she had only seen him apply to drinking, eating and bed sports.

His reaction was immediate, his head jerked upwards towards the sound of her voice and as he did so his entire body jerked. The quill he held fell from his fingers and he then sat completely frozen in his chair as he peered into the shadows in which she stood.

"Who is there?" he demanded, his whining tone had changed little over the years.

Tara had to fight to keep her breathing even as she heard him speak, remembering the sound all too well. She knew that he would remember her voice and watched the play of emotions across his face as he struggled to understand how that could be.

When no further words were forthcoming from his mouth, Tara stepped from the shadows and into the glow of the candle. The light was swallowed by her dark clothing but illuminated her pale skin and hair with a frightening intensity. In front of her Edward froze, the only part of him that moved was his furiously blinking eyes as though he hoped she would disappear.

Edward slowly pushed his chair back from his desk and stood on a pair of legs that were shaking due to fear as opposed to frailty. He kept both his hands on the desk in front of him to steady himself. Since discovering that no amount of blinking would make her presence leave, his eyes remained large, almost feverish as he stared at her.

"In the years following your death I expected to be visited by your ghost seeking vengeance," Edward began, his voice growing steadier with each word, "Eventually I believed that you were just as weak in death as you had been in life and I had nothing to fear…I see now that I was wrong. Although if you are here to haunt me you will have a short time in which to do so, I am not as young as I was."

"Vengeance," Tara repeated the word in a stony voice, enjoying the way the word rolled off her tongue but still unsure as to what it meant for her, "I would think that I would be entitled to vengeance after the hell you put me through."

It was at that point that Tara felt the hate surging through her body and she fervently wished she had brought a weapon of some sort to slit the foul coward open before he opened his mouth to debate his role in her death.

"You drove me out into the night!" Tara growled in response. She saw her tone have an immediate effect on Edward as he blanched a whiter shade of pale. "I preferred being alone, outdoors in the middle of the night in a foreign country over being inside, barred in the same room with you!"

"Female foolishness!" Edward managed to snarl. "It was that foolishness which led to your death!"

"I was dead long before that night in Austria," Tara continued. "Destroyed by your cruelty. When I was attacked I was terrified beyond belief…but a part of me longed for my suffering to be at an end!" Little did I know, it was only the beginning…

She moved several steps across the polished floor, purposely creating footsteps that were loud enough for him to hear clearly in order to dispel the notion he had that she was merely a ghost in his presence. His eyes bulged in his head and he struggled to draw in enough air as he began to panic.

"You were an abomination!" Edward shrieked. His voice was reedy and thin through his constant wheezing, "You and that Van Helsing girl!"

"I suppose you think it was treatment I deserved?" Tara asked quietly, remaining calm, refusing to raise her voice. "Tell me Edward, did you find yourself another wife?"

"Yes," he replied stiffly, "My wife has since passed away…but I have three children and five grandchildren."

"Please leave," he demanded, his voice carrying very little authority in his fear, "I know you cannot harm me, you are a pathetic shade, the dead hold no power over the living!"

"The dead hold sway over all!" Tara whispered fiercely before suddenly surging forward as though her feet were not touching the floor, effortlessly she leapt over the desk and reached out for Edward Walsh's throat. His eyes bulged once more as her icy fingers closed around his flesh and the chair was knocked aside as she thrust him roughly against the wall at his back

Edward tried to lash out, to wrestle her weight from his but he found himself up against a physical strength he did not anticipate. "What are you?"

Tara cocked her head to one side, studying him for a moment, enjoying the feeling of fear radiating from him. "You feel my fingers around your throat, Edward? That should tell you that I am not a harmless shade."

"No, my dear Edward," Tara squeezed the leathery flesh at his throat and felt her nails pierce the skin, "I am undead…a state rather different from being dead and one for which you should feel a very palpable fear."

She peeled her lips back from her teeth in a wide snarl, offering Edward the opportunity to get closer to a pair of fangs than he ever wanted to be. He shrank backwards, trying to move away from the unnaturally pointed teeth as though expecting her to sink them into his throat.

"You need not fear my drinking your blood; I would rather drink from a live pig than suck on the foul stuff that runs through your veins!"

"No more so than you…and I will spend the rest of my days atoning for crimes I committed as a soulless demon. Have you atoned for your crimes Edward?"

"You forced yourself on me repeatedly and brutally. Every night I struggled to avoid your fists striking my flesh for the merest transgression, if it is not a crime to treat your wife in such a manner then what is it?" Tara demanded, her voice retaining its quiet tone but taking on a hard edge. Anger boiled in her veins and the demon in her longed to snap Edward's fleshy neck.

Edward's voice was firm despite his fear, as though he were speaking a well-learned mantra. "A woman's duty!"

The carefully constructed wall of control restraining Tara from within crumbled instantly. She released her hold on his neck only to seize him by the lapels of his waistcoat. In one swift movement she picked him up and threw his entire body over the desk. Edward hit the ground like a sack of old bones, crumpling to the ground instantly. Tara followed him, stooping to seize him by his wig before he could attempt to stand under his own power.

As she dragged him upwards, Edward Walsh looked nothing more than a terrified old man staring in the face of his own death…a death at the hands of a monster. In that moment Tara realized that killing Edward Walsh would undo all the effort it had taken her to restore a fragile semblance of her humanity. Although killing him would initially provide some sense of satisfaction and perhaps even closure, Tara knew that in the long-term such an act would do more harm than good. There may still have been a monster inside her, but she could prove her humanity by showing an amount of compassion to a man as despicable as Edward Walsh.

She thrust him away from her, glad to no longer be in contact with his slimy skin. He immediately cringed back against the wall behind him as though he expected a killing blow to come at any moment. Even though none came, he remained terrified, unable to tear his gaze away from Tara's burning gaze.

However frightful her appearance, on the inside Tara felt fragile and emotional. She could only maintain her withering stare in Edward Walsh's direction for a brief moment longer before she felt tears of frustration and pain burn at the corners of her eyes. Clearly she could not remain emotionless and detached in front of the man who had briefly been her husband, not when his image so easily dragged up memories of what he had done to her.

Trying to make the act appear as effortless as possible, she once again shifted in her non-corporeal form with Edward watching, terrified at such a transformation. He was still frozen against the wall when Tara drifted back out the window. She felt Walsh's house as fast as she was able.

Several weeks following her encounter with Edward, Tara was stalking the streets of London in the early hours of the morning. She had to confess that lately all she longed for was a soft bed upon which to sleep but in order to keep up pretences she at least had to feign interest in feeding. She was tired of creeping about in the shadows and this night was particularly damp and unpleasant with a stiff breeze fluttering at her skirts and nipping her exposed skin with its cold bite. Although she usually barely noticed the cold, the wind left her drained and listless.

A single page from a newspaper that had been picked up by the breeze collided with her leg and interrupted her thoughts. Although Tara was not normally inclined to read the usually irrelevant newspapers, for some reason she stooped and retrieved this particular page. Her eyes immediately wandered to an announcement in bold near the foot of the page.

Tara continued reading to find that Edward had died in his office. Investigators had found no sign of an intruder and had ruled out foul play to proclaim his death 'sudden but natural.' She then glanced to the date beneath the headline to find that it was the day following her visit. As she crumpled the paper in her fist and tossed it in the gutter she realized that the news was somewhat anticlimactic. She felt neither relief nor pleasure at the news of his death. It was certainly not the death Edward had deserved but she knew she could never have given him that death. The death that would have led to a much larger, more sensational headline with a story packed with enticing words like 'blood' and 'murder.'

As it was, Edward had died alone with her face the last image in his mind. With this thought Tara was finally able to feel a small measure of satisfaction.

Edward Walsh was dead. Tara decided that she would slip into an empty hotel room and fall asleep, safe in the knowledge that there would be one less face to see in her dreams.

The imposing façade of the recently completed British Museum loomed over Great Russell Street, and in particular over three small figures ascending the steps and passing beneath its neo-classical columns. While a man and woman walked at a more sedate pace, a young girl rushed ahead as only excited children could.

Once inside she knew exactly where she was going, threading her way through the light crowd in the lobby, grinning at an attendant as she made a beeline directly for a door marked 'employees only.' The door had closed behind her before either adult had a chance to catch up, or offer her some wise words of caution. They followed, the man holding the door open for the woman. She smiled at him as she passed as one did when in love. Despite the advancing years of the man, the grin that followed made him seem youthful and spirited. He carried a sizable bag in one hand with apparently little effort.

Up ahead, the young girl had reached the employees only floor and was happily making her way through the staff going about their business. No one stopped to question the twelve year old on her business, instead many greeted her warmly.

"Well if it isn't young Lara Croft," a white-coated man with a white beard to match asked, his teeth shining just as white, "How are your Latin conjugations coming along?"

Twelve year old Lara immediately made a face in response, "The subjunctive imperfect is giving me a frightful headache."

He laughed and she continued on her way, almost breaking into a run when she saw her destination in the distance. She entered the employee's library, a place far more fascinating than any other she had ever visited and in the pretext of looking for Rupert Giles, her eyes roamed the shelves of books. The fact that she did not call out for the librarian indicated that she was not overly bothered whether she found him or not. She drifted towards the shelves laden with books, her hungry eyes roaming over the titles on the thick spines. Every so often she paused to reach out and stroke a particular book, running her fingers over the embossed leather with an expression akin to rapture.

Lara Croft drew back her fingers as though she had just been burned and spun on her heels in the direction of the voice. When she saw who had spoken she had to blink a few times to confirm exactly what it was she was seeing. Emerging from the shadows between two of the stacks was a young woman, clad entirely in black from the floor to her throat. Her long pale hair framed a pair of blue eyes which shone even in the library's poor light.

Normally exceptionally quick to reply, Lara was confused. This stranger did prompt her to react with the reluctant obedience and forced politeness that she normally resorted to in the company of adults. She managed to suppress the strange fear the woman's presence stirred within her and responded with barely concealed insolence, testing the woman to see how she would react.

Much to Lara's surprise the blonde woman did not immediately chastise her; instead she did something far worse. She continued to stare at her with those piercing blue eyes, as though she was seeing straight past the expression she wore and through to what she was thinking. Lara felt decidedly uncomfortable beneath such intense scrutiny. Had she been less bold, she would have torn her gaze away to stare at her feet.

As she stared back at the woman she realized that there was something exceptionally unusual about her. At first Lara had merely thought her pale, but her skin was actually verging on being translucent. Her hair was so pale a shade of blonde that it might as well have been white. Before the woman could reply or she could ask another question, Lara heard more footsteps in the library. She turned and immediately wrinkled her nose, her parents had joined her.

Jeremiah Croft glared in at his daughter with an expression that was supposed to be disapproving; however he merely appeared mildly amused. Before he could channel his disapproval into a scolding, he glanced beyond Lara to see a familiar face, one he had not seen for a long time.

"Tara!" he exclaimed like a giddy schoolboy, "You have not changed one iota since I saw you last!"

He quickly let go of the bag he was holding and picked up her proffered hand. As he bent to lay a gentle kiss on the back of her hand he glanced up at her with a twinkle in his eye, as though deciding that was not the greeting he wished to bestow on his old friend. Instead he embraced Tara warmly and kissed her gently on one pale, cold cheek. When he stepped back there was a red flush to his own cheeks.

"Neither have you," Tara replied, faint traces of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Jeremiah's grin was blatant as he patted his slightly rotund belly, "It is kind of you to say…but it has been almost fifteen years."

"Closer to twenty…you were still a bachelor the last time I saw you," Tara commented, well aware of the others in the room, the shy woman standing nervously just behind Jeremiah's shoulder and the young girl with whom she had already had the dubious pleasure of trading a few words.

"Yes!" Jeremiah said excitedly, as though he had forgotten the most important event that had happened in his life since he last saw Tara, "It all makes for a rather funny story really…I had just delivered a paper to the Royal Society, it was splendidly received of course but in the midst of all the scholarly veneration, surrounded by grey haired old gits, I suddenly realized that there was still one thing in life I had neglected to achieve – marriage and children!"

"And naturally you could not leave something like that unachieved," Tara added conspiratorially.

"Of course not!" Jeremiah grinned, "So I marched up to Charlotte, who was the daughter of a very good friend and asked her if she would very much mind marrying me…right in the middle of the reception…and much to my surprise she agreed on the spot."

Charlotte smiled shyly and nodded in agreement as Jeremiah gave her a quick squeeze around the waist.

"The old fool was too blind to notice…I had been making eyes at him for years, dropping all the appropriate hints and making excuses to be with him," Charlotte was softly spoken but her voice was tinged with humor and more than a little good-natured teasing, "He was exceptionally lucky that I have always been a very patient woman."

Tara held out her hand with a small but warm smile on her face. After a moment's hesitation, Charlotte reached out and took it in her own, if she was surprised at just how cold Tara's hand was then she did not let it show on her face. Instead, she returned the smile. In the relatively short period of time that had passed, Tara had already decided that Charlotte was the perfect woman for Jeremiah. While her attire indicated that she was a woman of simple tastes, she possessed a radiant natural beauty.

"And you have already met our daughter, Lara…" Jeremiah nodded towards the dark-haired girl.

Jeremiah's daughter appeared to be at an awkward stage in her development. While it was very clear that one day she was going to be lithe and as exceptionally beautiful as her mother she currently possessed a set of gangly limbs and both her eyes and her lips were too big for her face. She was staring up at Tara with an expression on her face that reminded Tara all too well of a young Jeremiah with his curiosity in full flight. Tara was waiting for the entirely inappropriate question that was bound to follow. However, young Lara remained content to stare brazenly, obviously fascinated.

"Charlotte, Lara, this is a good friend of mine…and Giles's…Tara Maclay. She has been…abroad for a good many years."

"Ah…we also have a son," Jeremiah interrupted his daughter, placing a warning hand on her shoulder, "Archie, rather proud of him actually, he is doing exceptionally well at Oxford."

All three members of the Croft family were staring intently at Tara. Jeremiah found himself reverting back to when his was sixteen and his pleasant memories of a youthful infatuation with the vampire. The resumption of his infatuation was aided by the fact that she had not changed at all in the years since he had last seen her. If Tara found the Croft's scrutiny unnerving, she did not let it show.

"Um…" Jeremiah stepped forward between his daughter and Tara and struggled to find an appropriate reply other than the truth. It was clear that the girl was not content with the simple introduction her father had offered in stating little more than Tara's name.

"My apologies," Tara broke the silence recognizing both the needs of her guests and the fact that Jeremiah obviously did not want to have to answer his daughter's questions, "I have been out of civilized company for so long I have forgotten my manners…can I offer you tea?"

"I would love nothing more but Charlotte and I are off to Egypt for a month or so and Giles is always kind enough to watch over Lara whenever we go abroad…he takes his duties as a grandfather very seriously," Jeremiah answered, glancing quickly at his pocket watch. "Our ship departs in a few hours, might I be able to impose on you to watch over Lara until his return?"

"It would not be the least imposition," Tara responded with a wary smile in Lara's direction. She already suspected that the young girl was more than a handful for Giles.

Charlotte stooped to embrace Lara warmly, when she pulled back she rubbed at an imaginary spot of dirt on her cheek, "Sweetie, you will be on your best behavior as always…and promise me you will desist with your constant questioning?"

Lara merely nodded perfunctorily, not seeming the least bit concerned that her parents were about to leave her for an unspecified amount of time. She actually appeared impatient for them to be gone, as though she could not wait to be alone with the mysterious friend of her father's. Both her parents bid Tara a warm farewell and then they were gone. Lara sighed with relief when the library door closed behind them. She loved her parents dearly but they were so dreadfully stifling with rules and whatnot. At the age of twelve she felt more than old enough to accompany them on their far flung adventures but they would hear none of it, and insisted on bundling her off to stay with Giles.

When she was younger, she did not mind these arrangements in the least. The thought of travelling great distances by boat and train had held little appeal and she was far more content to explore the Museum. As she grew older however, she began to realize that the museum's treasures came from somewhere else, places far away and she began to long for those distant shores.

Still, as she glanced back towards Tara, she began to think that this particular stay might be a little more interesting than the last. The pale woman was regarding her with a strange look, as though she were not quite sure exactly what to do. Lara on the other hand knew exactly what she wanted – to find out more information about this strange yet compelling woman.

"There are more than a few things I do not understand…like you for instance, you say you're an old friend of my fathers and yet you look barely older than me." Lara commented on her observations with a suspicious frown on her face, "Just how old are you?"

"I look good for my age," was all Tara was prepared to say. Lara's disappointment manifested in an angry scowl but she tactfully steered any further conversation away from herself. "You must spend a great deal of time with Giles…do you wish to become a librarian?"

"Good lord no, how dreadfully boring," Lara replied quite sagely, "I have already decided that I shall attend Oxford…Archie has promised to put in a good word for me. After graduation I shall travel the world, raiding tombs and uncovering all the mysteries of the ancient world!"

"I wish you well in that goal; from experience I know that there are many mysteries…" Tara had to cut herself short as she felt a wave of dizziness accompanied by a hot flush surge through her body. For someone who barely felt temperature, it was an unnerving experience.

She was forced to lean on a nearby reading table to keep from falling over as young Lara looked on with a worried frown on her face.

"I-I'm not sure," Tara replied awkwardly. She had no idea what was responsible for the sensations coursing through her body. At first she thought perhaps she might be under attack, a spell of some sort cast over a distance. She glanced across at Lara, worried that she might be at risk. "Stand back."

However as time passed, even when she was forced to close her eyes, Tara began to realize that what was happening to her was not a bad thing. The feelings throughout her body were not foreign, they were all too familiar. A fragrance met her nostrils, one she remembered despite the passage of time. She closed her eyes and lost herself to the wave of emotions and feelings that told her without a doubt that Willow had been reborn.

When Tara finally opened her eyes she managed a smile of reassurance in Lara's direction. She then looked towards the door to see Rupert Giles entering with an armful of packages. Although he also had not seen her for a good number of years, there was no surprise on his face when he saw her standing in the middle of his library with young Lara Croft. If he too knew what had just taken place, then it did not show on his face.

"Ah, I see you have met my finest and most attentive student…well, at least attentive when it suits her," Giles commented, placing his packages down on the nearest table. He addressed Lara, "I believe you will have some studying to do while I catch up with my old friend?"

Lara looked as though she might refuse but eventually she retrieved several books from the bag her father had left and retired to a study table. With her back turned, the two adults were free to talk in hushed tones.

"The Rosenberg's live in India; I believe the father is in the army…" Giles began.

"Rosenberg?" Tara repeated the name, it sounded horribly unfamiliar to her lips. However she quickly realized that it was foolish of her to think that Willow would be a Van Helsing. She tried the name again, "Willow Rosenberg."

She desperately wanted to pester Giles for more information about the family, the sort of people they were but she knew he would not answer all her questions for the very simple reason that he did not want her to know. Tara sighed quietly, knowing that it would require an inhuman amount of patience to remain apart from Willow's new life.

"So it begins," Giles commented, glancing over his shoulder to see Lara quickly duck her head as though she had been straining to listen in on their conversation. He turned his attention back to Tara, saw the expression on her face and realized he needed to get her to concentrate on something other than Willow…for the next few decades at least.

"Yes." Tara paused for a moment until Lara was buried in her books once more, or at least pretending to be. "I need a copy of the Morte Grimoire; can I pretend to have stolen yours?"

Giles smirked at the odd sounding phrase, "Of course…as long as I am able to steal it back before someone causes some serious damage. That book contains some powerful magic."

"You do not need to remind me, Giles," Tara replied with a trace of annoyance in her voice.

He nodded and went to fetch the Grimoire. As soon as Giles disappeared into the stacks, Lara's head glanced up from her books. Confirming he was indeed gone, she hopped off her chair and skipped casually to Tara's side with a hopeful smile on her face.

"You will stay and help me with my Latin…won't you?" Lara asked eagerly. "Please?"

Tara's eyebrows lifted in surprise as she wondered just what it was that she had done to make this child crave her company. A small part of her did want to be able to stay, to have nothing more to worry about save helping a twelve year old conjugate Latin verbs.

"I am afraid my Latin is very poor." Tara explained gently, unless you want to weave dark magick…a skill I am sure Giles would not want me to show you, "When I was your age girls were not allowed to study Latin…or much of anything save embroidery and tea making."

Lara's lips opened in a perfect, outraged pout. "That's positively barbarous!" she declared indignantly.

Tara could not help but smile in response. The young girl had spirit, definitely reminding her of a certain redhead who at this time was once again a squalling infant. However she knew she could not stay, it would not do for her relationship to Giles to be discovered. Not yet anyway. "I am afraid I have important business to attend to…but I am sure I will find occasion to come to the Museum again soon."

"Please do!" Lara clapped her hands together enthusiastically; there was a distinct twinkle in her eyes. "I love Giles immensely but he can be so exceptionally strict at times, I have no doubt that you would be more fun."

Tara arched an eyebrow at Lara's assessment of her as being 'more fun' than Giles. Given that she had shown absolutely no inclination towards 'fun' of any sort during the short time Lara had known her, she wasn't sure how the young girl had come to that conclusion. She was however able to appreciate the significance of Lara's decision, realizing that she had just added to the rather small number of people she was able to call 'friends.'

"Well, I have no doubt that the 'fun' will commence with my next visit," Tara offered helpfully. She surprised herself when she extended her hand towards Lara for the young girl to shake. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

It was at that point that Giles returned with the book Tara had requested. He frowned at the rather pleased expression on Lara's face before a well placed nod sent her scurrying back to her books. When he glanced back to Tara he saw a strange look in the vampire's eyes and knew exactly whom she was thinking about.

"You will promise to stay away from her won't you, Tara?" Giles cautioned. He kept his voice extremely firm as he knew just how strong the connection between the two of them was, "It will do her no good to feel as though she is being watched…and it will do you no good either."

Tara appeared stricken for a moment before she managed to compose herself. "She'll need protecting…if Dracula should learn…"

"He doesn't," Giles said firmly. "No doubt that will remain the case throughout her childhood but if he does learn of her birth, you will of course be the first to know."

She nodded, Giles as always was a voice of reason. His face changed slightly, almost as though he was giving her a reassuring smile. She accepted the Grimoire with a relieved expression on her face. Whatever sort of relationship existed between the two of them, at the very least there was trust.

Tara left the British museum with a strange feeling coursing through her body. Normally she avoided crowded streets and public areas, especially in the day. She preferred to remain in the shadows, on the fringes of society. However on this particular day she felt compelled to remain in the midst of the throng that walked Great Russell Street, even allowing herself to be swept along towards a small park just across the road from the museum. She settled herself on a vacant bench, content to watch people stroll through the park and feel the sun on her face.

It took her a while to realize exactly what the emotion surging through her veins was, but when she thought about it for a moment Tara realized that she was actually happy. When she left the bench to continue on her way, she was secure in the knowledge that the world was a far richer place with Willow in it.

More than anything, Lara Croft hated being an object of other people's pity. This feeling was exacerbated by the fact that she had spent her life being as self-reliant as possible, travelling alone whenever possible and remaining unmarried even as she turned thirty. She preferred to be alone…or at least she had spent most of her life convincing herself that was what she preferred.

She had overheard gossip of course…museum patrons and sponsors, busy bodies with too much time on their hands and little sense. Since her appointment as Director three years earlier, the gossip had not ceased…it had only become more wildly speculative as she refused to give them any information. What puzzled them all the most was the obvious fact that the Director was undoubtedly a stunningly beautiful woman who could have her pick of eligible men, both handsome and wealthy.

That much was true; Lara had had many suitors over the years but she had turned them all down without batting her magnificent eyelashes. The fact that she was not undesirable should have given her some satisfaction but Lara had never cared for such trifles. She had long felt that the number of men who wanted her was entirely unimportant…but it was the number of women she wanted, and couldn't have, that occupied her thoughts more recently. The realization that she was attracted to women did not overly bother Lara Croft, what did bother her was that it meant she could no longer convince herself she preferred to be alone.

The accident in Australia six months previously had made the situation even worse in terms of pity…and women. Last week Lara had reluctantly hired a new field agent for the Museum. It was a relatively simple act, staff were hired frequently…but this particular appointment hit Lara like a slap in the face. She was replacing herself.

She had hired the new employee based solely on reports of her work and her credentials but she was now wishing she had laid eyes on the woman first. All the practical skills and field experience in the world could not make up for the fact that the woman was an ill-disciplined rogue with no respect for authority whatsoever. She was brazen, tempestuous, uncouth and worst of all…she was the most beautiful woman Lara had ever had the misfortune of laying her eyes on. Her name was Faith Winters.

Lara watched her now from one of the balconies in the employee library as she listened to Giles delivering an induction speech. Even from her perch high above, Lara could see the obvious look of boredom on Faith's face as Giles droned on about the Museum's illustrious history. Clearly standing in one place and listening to others talk was not Faith's preferred occupation. Beneath the tight fitting clothes she wore, every inch of her body appeared tensed and ready for action. Lara shut her eyes tightly but she could still see Faith's generous breasts straining against the white shirt and leather jacket she wore, her cleavage clearly showing in an entirely inappropriate manner.

When Lara opened her eyes once more, she was mortified to find the young woman staring straight up at the balcony, as though she had confirmed her suspicions that she was being watched. Giles was still droning on, oblivious, but Faith's expression had changed from one of boredom to shouldering excitement. Her lips parted slightly in a knowing smile.

As soon as Lara felt the first wave of heat flood her body she made a hasty retreat…as hasty as she could manage in her wheelchair. Although Giles had designed a chair in which she could propel herself rather than suffer the indignity of being pushed, it was still awkward. She made her way from the balcony and into the private elevator that led directly to her office. As she slammed the door across and jabbed the button she let out an angry snort, disgusted with herself for allowing Faith to get to her. Moments later the elevator ceased its whirring and stopped at her office, even before she slid the door open she could see Cordelia Chase poised at her desk, waiting to pounce in case she needed something.

Her secretary was already at the elevator door before she could say something, sliding it open for her.

Lara made a quick 'shooing' motion, "I am quite capable of managing a door thank you, Cordelia."

"I am sure you are," Cordelia replied smoothly, indicating that she did not agree with Lara's statement, she held open the door to Lara's private room and ignored the angry expression on her employer's face.

Something inside the office caught her attention even as she held the door open….the room was not empty. Standing in one corner was a pale blonde woman. Cordelia frowned; she had not let anyone through the door.

"Who the devil are you?" Cordelia demanded in outrage, she turned quickly to Lara as she moved through the door, "I am terribly sorry Director Croft, I could swear no one had come in here…and I have not left my desk all morning."

"It is quite alright, Cordelia," Lara replied with a curt nod, "The visitor is expected."

With another angry frown, Cordelia departed and closed the door behind her to leave Lara alone in the room with her mysterious visitor. She propelled her wheelchair slightly closer so she could see her more clearly. It was obvious that Tara Maclay had not changed at all since their last meeting; even the clothes she was wearing appeared to be exactly the same.

"You were not expected," Lara said quietly, a trace of warmth in her voice, "But you are still very welcome…and long overdue for a visit I might add."

Tara inclined her head slightly in apology, "You will understand the reason for my absence."

Tara crossed the room until she was standing just in front of Lara; she studied the chair and then looked back up to Lara's drawn, tired face. Her concern was clear in her expression.

Lara shrugged as though it was all of little concern, "After so many years of thinking myself indestructible…it finally became apparent that I am not."

Without prompting, Lara reached to lift her skirts away from her legs. She pulled them up to reveal that her left leg had been badly mauled, almost beyond recognition. The wound was clearly recent, still partially unhealed and the scars in the flesh were deep and red. Tara immediately dropped to the floor in front of Lara, without asking permission she reached out her pale hands and tenderly laid them on Lara's torn flesh. She felt Lara wince but did not remove them.

"No…a very ordinary, non-demon crocodile, in goddamn Australia," Lara replied through gritted teeth, she drew in a quick breath, "Lovely country…"

"The damage to the muscles is extensive," Tara whispered as she gently probed the injury.

Tara ignored her friend's bitter statement altogether, knowing that it had arisen from an understandable pain and frustration. She continued to probe at the wound, tentatively reaching out with her magicks to delve within Lara's body and see the extent of the damage. Tara drew in a reluctant breath, although she could not afford to give false hope, she also could not sit back and watch Lara suffer without at least exploring the possibilities.

She glanced up at Lara and saw that the brief examination had given her a faint glimmer of hope already.

"I cannot promise anything and I must warn you my magicks are…tainted…you may feel extremely unpleasant, if not physically sick." Tara paused as though reconsidering her offer, she could no longer meet Lara's hopefully gaze. "I am sorry…I do not know if it is worth the risk…"

Tara suddenly felt warm hands grasping one of her own. She looked down at them to find Lara's hands wrapped around her fingers, squeezing tightly.

"Please try," Lara whispered with a slight catch in her voice. "Any risk is worth it. You have no idea how frustrating it is to be confined to this goddamn chair."

Tara was able to meet Lara's gaze once more, she nodded once and then closed her eyes. As she drew on her power she immediately felt the taint of it. Before her soul had been returned the taint had held no consequence for her, however subsequently she felt it coursing through her veins like thick, muddy water. She felt Lara shudder slightly and knew she felt it too.

Working as quickly as possible, Tara visualized the injury on an internal level. She concentrated all her power on repairing what had been severed. As time went by she felt Lara's spasms increase steadily and she heard small whimpers that gradually became cries of pain. The time came where Tara had to choose between continuing to work on the injury and doing Lara permanent damage of another kind. She held on for as long as possible before abruptly breaking contact as she felt Lara sag beneath her touch.

When Tara opened her eyes she found the scars were still present, perhaps lacking a little redness, but just as deep and awful. A broken sigh escaped her lips and for a moment she could not look up and meet Lara in the eyes.

Eventually she did. There was a thin sheen of sweat covering Lara's face and neck as though she had just run a great distance. However her eyes were bright and alert and there was a small smile on her face.

Lara reached out and placed her shaking hand on Tara's shoulder. Then, with an obvious amount of pain she rose to her feet and straightened unsteadily. Tara stood in tandem with Lara so she could continue use her shoulder as a support. Once confident on her own feet, Lara lowered her hand and made agonizing but steady steps towards her desk on the other side of the room.

"I am truly sorry that I could not do more, Lara," Tara whispered as she watched Lara cling to the edge of her desk for support, "If I had come sooner…"

"Well…" Lara drew in a deep breath as though trying to reign in her disappointment, by the time she exhaled she was able to manage a small smile, "I would have written, asking you to come but you don't exactly keep a fixed address." She removed her hands from the desk and turned to face the blonde vampire, her smile remaining. "Tara, I can walk…I may not ever be able to climb mountains again…or go back to Australia and teach that bloody crocodile a lesson…but I can walk, and that will have to be enough for me. Thank you."

Tara nodded even though her disappointment on Lara's behalf still registered on her face. She knew the adventurous life her friend led would now have to end. It was a crushing blow for a woman who truly felt alive only when she was pushing her body to the limit.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened. She turned and saw Rupert Giles striding into the room. Lara turned also and any challenge she may have been about to make died on her lips when she saw who it was.

Giles paused just past the threshold into the room, his gaze darting left and right as though he did not know where to look, to greet Tara or to express his amazement at Lara standing under her own power. His decision was made for him a moment later when she suddenly swayed. He darted forward, both hands reaching out to hers.

With Lara settled on the settee, Giles was able to turn his attention to Tara. He could count the number of times he had seen her over the past twenty years on the fingers of one hand. Each visit had been brief, a mere perfunctory meeting with the sole intention of passing on information. He studied her for a few moments but it was hardly necessary, there was nothing about Tara that had changed over the years. He saw the same flawless beauty and lithe grace, the ever sad eyes and unsmiling mouth.

"I see you and Lara have had time to…catch up." Giles commented, quietly amazed by the vampire's magic prowess. "But I do not think that is the sole reason for your visit."

Tara was hardly fazed by Giles's desire to move straight to business and forgo any polite conversation. "As much as I enjoy Lara's company, it is not. He knows Giles."

The three simple words were enough to drain all color from Giles's cheeks. He removed his glasses and began to scrub at them furiously with the cuff of his shirt.

"How much does he know?" Lara asked, glancing worriedly at Giles who seemed too flustered to speak.

"Enough that we should be very concerned." Tara's voice was tightly drawn, as though she was trying to keep herself from conveying emotion. "Although he said nothing at the time, I am beginning to believe that he sensed her rebirth…albeit far fainter than you or I, Giles. He has carried his suspicions with him over the years, suspicions that are growing in intensity with each passing year…he has sent several of those closest to him out to search for her, including me."

Although Tara did indeed know that Willow had been reborn, she had very little idea as to where she actually was. She had kept her promise to Giles that she would not interfere in anyway…as difficult as it had been. Her frustration at having to rely completely on Giles to keep Willow safe was clearly evident.

When Giles finally replaced his glasses, he looked straight at Tara, "None have come close to finding her…I spent several years with the family when they first returned from India as a tutor to her brother. Upon his death I established myself as her mentor and have remained in contact over the years…her safety foremost on my mind. When she graduates from university, she will take up a position at the museum."

"But until then, Giles?" Tara demanded. "The walls of a university will not hold back those trying to find her!"

"I agree," Giles replied quietly. "This is why we have no choice in what we must do next."

An hour passed as the three worked through their plan, the finer details were ironed out, everything laid out to the last letter for if anything were to go wrong, it would be Willow Rosenberg's life at stake. With everything ready for the next step, Giles said goodbye to Tara just inside the back entrance to the museum. Although the two of them were far from friends, there was empathy there. Giles could see the pensive expression on Tara's face, that there was any expression there at all meant that she was deeply concerned indeed.

"You know you will not be able to remain with your own kind when this is all over…you will truly be an outcast," he commented quietly.

"Please don't," she interrupted, "It could take many years…I will think about such matters when this is all over." Tara then drew in a breath, finally feeling that the time was right to ask the one question that had been foremost on her mind throughout the day…not to mention the preceding decades, "How is she, Giles?"

Giles pursed his lips reluctantly and did not reply. However just as Tara thought that he would say nothing at all on the matter he smiled slightly, "She is just as beautiful as she ever was…although…different."

"Does she remember anything of her former life?" Tara tried to keep the desperation from her voice…but failed.

Nothing, Tara told herself, feeling her head thumping like a piece of lead in her chest. She did not quite know what she had expected Giles to say; she had hardly expected Willow to be reborn knowing exactly who she had been…and who she had loved. Although Tara had at first felt crushed by this realization, she slowly came to see it for the blessing it was. Willow did not remember dying…or the circumstances of that death. The more she dwelt on this, the more she realized that she was actually daring to hope that they could at least be friends in this life…if not more. Her heart fluttered fiercely.

Don't be bloody ridiculous you fool! Tara berated herself, drawing in a deep breath. This is precisely why you enchanted Willow's mirror…so she will remember the life she lived…remember what you did. She'll never love you again…

"Nothing can compromise Willow's safety…absolutely nothing." Giles said fiercely, his eyes burning as he said the words. "You must promise to do everything you can to ensure that she stays safe! She is more important than you or I."

"I understand." Tara nodded curtly as she drew up her hood and headed out into the dimming light of dusk.

As she walked away from the British Museum, Tara knew that the task she had been given could destroy everything she had worked towards since her ensoulment. The painstaking task of building and maintaining her humanity could be wiped away in an instant. She squared her shoulders and kept Giles's parting words foremost in her mind.

It was hardly difficult. Even in her darkest hours, Willow had never ceased to be the most important element in her life. Without Willow, she could not exist.

Unlike her first visit to Bran Castle many years earlier, Tara no longer felt the need to prostrate herself before Dracula, Lord of Vampires. As she marched towards his throne, she felt very little fear…only tiny slivers at the nape of her neck that could not be helped. However high in Dracula's favor she had risen, she could still be brought crashing downwards.

He was, as ever, shrouded in darkness as he sat atop his mighty throne in a relaxed pose. As Tara came close enough to see him clearly she saw he wore only a finely tailored shirt. One bare leg was resting up over the armrest as though he were a drunk merely playing at being lord. His hand, complete with immaculately manicured nails, rested on his knee. As she approached, his pose shifted. He placed both his feet together on the floor and leaned forward as though anticipating the pleasure of her company.

Tara drew up just short of the throne and nodded haughtily, her only concession to acknowledging his power. As she lowered her gaze her eyes flicked over the shape tucked against one corner of his throne. The brief glance was more than enough for her to see it was a completely naked, terrified young woman. The sight of her almost caused Tara to lose her composure. Her green eyes were wide with terror in the midst of her pale face. Long red hair fell in tangled strands, almost covering her heaving breasts but not quite. Her resemblance to Willow was almost enough to transform Tara's glance into stare, a stare that Dracula would undoubtedly notice. Tara brought herself quickly under control.

In a split second she had forced her attention back to Dracula's handsome visage and away from the redheaded woman. The expression of pure disdain on her face did not waver.

Dracula grinned and his own gaze flickered down to the woman. "You are just in time to partake in a special treat I know you will enjoy!"

He leapt down from his throne and seized the young woman by her hair, dragging her to her feet with an exclamation of delight. Tara maintained her expression as he pinched and prodded at her supple flesh, his delight heightening as she tried to squirm out of his grasp.

"My Lord," Tara interrupted him just as he bent to take one of her heaving breasts into his mouth. "There are matters which are far more deserving of your attention at this time…I have news you need to hear."

"Bah!" he spat, "What news can possibly compare to the flesh of a nubile beauty…come Tara, she tastes like fresh honey…no doubt her blood will be just as sweet."

"Willow Van Helsing has been reborn," she spoke in a flat, toneless voice but it had all the effect she needed.

He froze for a moment before suddenly thrusting the girl backwards. She fell from the dais and landed heavily on her back, lying dazed as Dracula marched down the steps towards Tara. He stopped just inches from her face, his dark eyes shouldering.

It was a photo of Willow taken a few months earlier. She passed it to Dracula without looking at it. He was not to know that she had already spent too much time staring at it and had committed every aspect of it to memory. Even now, if she could close her eyes she knew she would be able to bring up that exact image, everything from the way her hair sat around her face to the unmistakable twinkle in her eye as she grinned for the camera. Even Tara knew it was not customary for people to grin for photographs…but Willow had.

"Proof indeed," Dracula muttered, absently tossing the photograph to the stone floor.

It took some effort for Tara not to follow the fluttering progress of the photo as it fell to the ground. Although she had memorized the image of a smiling Willow, she desperately wanted to tuck it back into the bosom of her dress, close to her heart. Instead it fell into the dust at her feet and was ignored.

"My Lord?" Tara was concerned by his apparent lack of interest. "She is the key to the skull…we need to decide a course of action."

"And we will," Dracula replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. He glanced to the floor where the young woman had fallen to find her gone. His gaze jerked upwards and sliced through the darkness to see her struggling with the heavy door at the end of the hall. "First though, we shall enjoy sport together…I have missed this immensely, just you and I, fucking them and then sucking them dry…I was in the mood for a young man today but I knew you would prefer a woman. Does my choice please you?"

"Immensely," Tara replied, even going as far to run her tongue over her lips to satisfy him. Inwardly however, she was searching for ways to avoid what she knew was going to happen next.

Tara glanced over her shoulder and uttered the simple spell which sealed the door shut. "It would hardly be much of a hunt."

Tara turned and headed towards the other end of the hall. She tried to look as though she was closing in on the girl with some enthusiasm but the real thoughts running through her mind were all the ways in which she could help the girl escape and still maintain her favor with Dracula. Even with her mind working overtime she could think of nothing…nothing except how long it had been since she last sank her teeth into real human flesh.

The girl did not run, perhaps she knew it was pointless. She did however beg. Tara was forced to look into her green eyes, eyes which were begging for life.

She seized the struggling girl by her hair and wrenched her head backwards, exposing the full length of her pale neck. Tara was transfixed as soon as she saw the vein throbbing beneath the skin. Knowing the Dracula was watching her intently; she swiftly sank her razor sharp teeth into the soft flesh. As soon as the skin punctured she felt the warmth flowing into her mouth and down her chin. As the woman struggled against her firm grip, Tara felt her own heart thud with the thrill of the kill. When it all came down to it…she was still a vampire.

Tara drew back and saw the mess in front of her; the girl sagged in her arms, her throat a bloody, torn mess. Unable to stand staring at what she had done, Tara dragged the girl back to her master and gratefully thrust her into his welcoming arms.

Thankfully, once lost to his lust, Dracula ignored Tara's reluctance to participate. He stripped the shirt from his body and thrust the stupefied woman backwards against the cold wall.

With his attention fully focused on the young woman, Tara turned away from Dracula's naked form as he pressed her back against the wall. She could not however silence her terrible screams. Such screams would have once been music to her ears…but now they stabbed her soul with piercing shards of agony. Her whispered apology to the woman counted for absolutely nothing, it was murder…and she was allowing it to happen.

Allow it to happen was all she could do however. As powerful as she was…Dracula was the Lord of Vampires and had been so for a millennium, he would snap her neck like a twig before she could begin to think about unleashing one of her fireballs to engulf him in flames. However, she would not allow herself to excuse what she was doing; instead she forced herself to suffer the screams as though it was she, and not Dracula, who was savaging the young woman.

Tara listened to his insatiable rutting for what seemed like an eternity before she heard him finish in a sound her ears knew well…too well for her own sanity.

"I will send William and Angelus forth to seize her," Dracula announced suddenly, obviously having given the matter some thought throughout his sport.

Tara turned and stared directly at his naked back as he dipped his head for one last drink from the now dead woman's neck.

"I disagree, Master," Tara replied firmly, "The information will not be on the surface to be drawn out via means of torture…a more subtle approach will be required…an approach I think would be best suited to one of her mortal acquaintances…a friend if you will."

As he stepped away from the body of the young woman, her lifeless form slumped to the floor. Dracula then unleashed a mighty sigh as he stretched, arching his back with some gusto. He turned to face Tara, the blood covering his naked body glistened dully in the poor light.

"So you suggest we should…bide our time?" he asked, cocking his head to one side with interest.

Tara nodded, "I believe that Rupert Giles is as yet unaware of our knowledge…it would be to our advantage to ensure that this remains the case, at least until the location of the skull is rediscovered."

"Agreed…you will watch over the vampire hunter," Dracula announced. "Provided I can trust you to perform that small task without falling back on any of your old habits? I don't want you killing her…it would not be conducive to finding the skull."

"Understood," Tara replied, this time she bowed low, wondering if he could hear her heart thudding violently in her chest. She forced a grin onto her face as she glanced back up at him; the tip of her tongue flicked out to lick some of the blood from her lips. "My Lord, might you permit sport of another kind…a well greased passage never ceases to yield information."

Dracula clapped his hands together with satisfaction, "I am immensely pleased that Van Helsing did not ruin you when he restored your soul…if anything, I think I like you even better with one. You know all of this is evil…and yet you do it anyway, splendid!"

Tara forced herself to continue smiling even though it was beginning to physically hurt. "My thoughts exactly" Stupid cock-sucking arsehole "Now, if you will excuse me, I have another redhead to stalk."

She turned to leave his presence. With her back to him she ached to be able to flee as fast as possible but knew that the slightest movement out of the ordinary would ruin everything. Tara forced herself to walk slowly, although she could feel his eyes burning into the back of her head. Each step was an exercise in controlling her fear.

At the sound of his voice, Tara immediately stopped walking. She did not turn around, instead turning only her head so he could see her face in profile. "Yes, Master?"

"As you know I am very patient…but even my patience has a limit. Find the skull."

"Yes, Master." Tara repeated. She tried to inject an element of fervor into her voice but her tone came out dull and flat. When no other commands were forthcoming she continued on her way, trembling with each silent footfall.

In the midst of her fear Tara remembered the photograph of Willow lying in the dust at Dracula's feet. She felt her heart sink at the realization that there was no safe way to retrieve the precious item. Still, it was an item that would constantly serve to remind her that she had chosen Willow's life over that of the unfortunate victim.

Once outside the great hall, Tara immediately dissolved into her misty form. She then fled the castle as fast as possible, not stopping until she was at a distance where she felt safe enough to curl into a tight ball and cry tears of shame and regret.

The only problem was that she could find no tears to shed for the girl she had helped murder. Tara did not cry, but she did feel sick to her stomach. For she had no doubt that even the purest, most complete soul in the world would not change the fact that she was a demon…now and always.

Willow blinked. As her eyes came into focus she immediately wrinkled her small nose at the sight of Giles leaning over her…a little too close for comfort. She placed a weak hand on his chest and propelled him backwards. It was hardly a shove but he took the hint and gave her some breathing space.

"I'm fine, Giles!" Although Willow was exhausted she managed to sit up under her own power. However her hands went straight to her head as the room began to spin. It took a few deep breaths before everything began to return to normal. "I have got to stop experiencing past lives like this…there should be some sort of warning label on spells like these, do not use more than once or you'll go utterly insane. Giles, am I insane?"

Giles stared at her for a few moments as though giving her question serious consideration, "No more so than usual."

"Have you any thoughts regarding what you were just shown?" Giles asked quietly.

Willow snorted in disgust, "Dracula's naked body is an image I could do without!"

Fighting back any further blunt retorts, Willow swallowed uncomfortably. Of course she had thoughts…too many to count and all equally disturbing. If she closed her eyes she knew that all she would see nothing but images of a broken body lying in the dark cellar beneath Gordon Square.

Willow drew in a deep breath; she could not bring herself to say the vampire's name. "She said she wanted to bring me back because Abraham told her I would know where the skull was…Giles that is impossible. I was most definitely and very completely dead when Abraham did whatever it was that he did with the skull. How in the frilly heck am I supposed to know where it is?"

Giles uncharacteristically shrugged, he then removed his glass and rubbed them on his sleeve. Willow sighed as she realized that, for once, Giles did not have the answers.

"I am not certain now either," Giles admitted. "I thought that by giving you all the information you would…well, I do not quite know what I was expecting…but I have to admit I was hoping you would come out of it knowing where to find the skull."

"No, I am merely being impatient…lately I have been dwelling on my own life and its finite nature, thoughts that I should not be wasting my time with…perhaps in a week something will come to you, after you have had the time to process the new information," Giles offered, "And in the meantime I will continue to work on the spell."

Willow glanced quickly up at Giles, feeling rather annoyed that he would chide her for not remembering where the skull was when he had spent the better part of several hundred years trying to find a way to destroy it. She thought better of saying something to that effect and settled for something a little less inflammatory but no less disgruntled.

"I don't want to ruin what sounds like a stunning plan Giles…but can you not just leave the skull wherever it is?" Willow asked as though it was the most obvious question in the world. "Dracula hasn't found the damn thing in the last hundred years, so what would make you think he'd ever find it?"

"Lovely chap," Willow commented, remembering with a grimace the strikingly handsome vampire that she had come so close to defeating.

"And you know full well he will never stop searching for that skull," Giles continued, not amused by Willow's comment.

"If he also believes that I know where it is…why does he not come for me?" Willow asked, unsure whether to be excited or terrified at the prospect of facing the Lord of Vampires once again…the Rosenberg part of her wanted to flee to the far side of the world and hide under a rock. "Surely the old boy would not be bothered by a spot of torture…I don't have a very high pain threshold, I'd be blubbering like a baby if he tried to pull my fingernails off…"

Willow glanced down at the worn and cracked little nubbins that were all that remained of her fingernails. As ugly as they were she decided that she would rather have them than none at all.

"You should know the answer to that question." Giles said sternly. He finally rose from the floor, doing so slowly as though his limbs were stiff. As he stood he gently retrieved the memory cache from its spot on the floor between him and Willow.

Willow bit her lip and continued to stare at her fingernails, Giles's tone reminded her of the time when he had been her brother's tutor. She then deliberately chewed at her longest fingernail to avoid answering the question, anything to avoid acknowledging her involvement. When she finally did look up at Giles she saw an expectant expression on his face.

Willow looked as though she had just swallowed an extremely bitter pill, an expression that very quickly gave way to anger when she realized that Giles was not going to let her off addressing the point at hand.

"And continues to do so," Giles added quietly, unperturbed by Willow's outburst.

"Fine…I do not want to talk about it," she muttered with an air of finality, "Let's just say that I accept the fact that you're worried about Dracula finding the skull…so I'll find it, I don't know how but I will…is that good enough?"

"No…but it will do for now." The already deep furrows on Giles's brow deepened, "Willow, are you alright?"

"Yes," Willow replied in a voice she hoped was convincing enough to avoid further interrogation.

She then forced herself to banish all thoughts of the blonde vampire from her mind, every aspect of Tara's memories made her sick to the stomach. Even though she had seen it in her mind, Willow was still having difficulty accepting the fact that her brother had imprisoned Tara for years. Abraham had always been such a gentle soul…the fact that he had been consumed by his hate was a truly painful discovery. She could not judge her brother. It was a discovery that caused her to search her own heart and wonder if she too was capable of such evil. She remembered the depths to which she herself had sunk following Tara's death. Abraham had been the steadfast rock anchoring her to life and sanity. He restrained her from murdering Edward Walsh in cold blood…and loved her too much to allow her to kill herself.

As she stared at Giles she mulled over the brief comment he had made earlier about the finite nature of his life. She had not dwelt on it at the time it was said, and now found it hard to imagine her life without his presence. It was a thought that she very quickly dismissed as being entirely ridiculous. Giles had already seen her die once and no doubt he would see her die again. This odd thought led her to another…she wondered how he coped with generation after generation of friends and family dying around him. Willow had seen more than enough of death in her two, relatively short lives…but Giles had seen so much more. An odd thought struck her, she wondered if Giles had ever been in love. It was much too difficult a question for Willow to even contemplate asking at that moment…if at all.

"I will continue to work on the spell that will destroy the skull…it is difficult…but I do know that it must be destroyed at Covasna," Giles added in Willow's silence, almost as an afterthought. He then turned to place the memory cache safely in the middle of a nearby table.

In turning his back on Willow, Giles remained oblivious to the dark cloud that passed over her face at the mention of that place. Her eyes dulled and her lips trembled violently until she clamped her mouth shut, biting down hard on her jaw to keep the tremors from returning. Although she was sitting directly in front of Giles, watching him place the idol on the table, the chill running through her entire body made her feel as though she was alone on the plateau. You're not at Covasna, Willow voiced inwardly, You're safe and warm in the British Museum…you're not there…you're not there… With some effort, Willow wiped the pained expression from her face just in time for Giles to face her again.

"Well that is just asking for trouble isn't it?" Willow commented breezily, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Giles nodded slightly in agreement, "It is far from the most pleasant spot on earth."

Willow suddenly felt as though the walls of the library were hemming her in. Whereas moments ago her body had been chilled, she now felt as though the tiny flames that burned on each of the surrounding candles were emitting a tremendous amount of heat. Even Giles's usually reassuring visage seemed grotesque and threatening. She had to get out.

"If you don't mind…my brain is kind of haywire, I think I might go and pummel a training dummy," Willow slowly rose to her feet, testing both her legs to see if they functioned normally. "Or I'll find Faith…she might actually stand a chance at beating me in my weakened state."

Willow did not wait for Giles to protest at her sudden desire to engage in physical activity. She left the library as quickly as possible while at the same time trying to appear as though she was unconcerned by what she had just learnt. In truth, Willow was concerned.

She paused along the corridor, some distance from the library and had to lean her back against the wall to steady herself. Her breath came quickly, as though she were panicking. Willow closed her eyes in an effort to calm herself and slow her heartbeat down a little but all she saw in the darkness was an endless plateau covered in skeletons.

Willow was beginning to realize just how unnatural her reincarnated life truly was, she would have no choice but to return to the place where she had already died.

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