CHAPTER 11

 

The first swallow made Buffy grimace. Wow. That was bitter. Still, she reminded herself, she hadn’t been much of a drinker before today. Maybe she needed practice. Steeling herself against the taste, Buffy took a second sip. Ahhh. That was better. It went down smooth, and Buffy eagerly went back for more. Maybe a few more beers would help her miserable day get better.

 

“So… Any complaints?” Jack appeared to materialize at her elbow. He pointed at her empty beer mug. “How was it?”

 

Buffy stared at him for a minute. Jack’s voice seemed to echo weirdly and, for a second, she didn’t understand his question.

 

Jack frowned at her lack of response. “Damn. If it’s that bad…” Slapping his towel on the bar, he dropped onto the stool next to Buffy’s. “I’ll have to see if I can sell it to one of the fraternities. They go through a lot of booze, and most of them aren’t picky about the quality.”

 

His intrusion into her personal space had Buffy edging away. However, her mind finally woke up. Ignoring the uneasy feelings skittering along her nerves, she patted Jack’s arm. “Don’t worry, Jack. It’s not that bad. I stopped noticing the bitter taste after the first swallow.” She sighed soundlessly in relief when he got up. Rubbing…more like wiping her hand on her thigh, Buffy continued. “In fact, I’ll have another one, please.”

 

She idly played with her empty mug while Jack ducked under the bar’s pass-through. Her relaxation was gone in an instant, though, when a crash exploded behind her.  The beer mug shattered in her hands, and Buffy leapt off her stool and spun toward the barroom. Heart pounding, she dropped into a defensive crouch and tensely scanned the room.

 

Her readiness was pointless. Slowly straightening, Buffy watched a laughing young man climb out of the remains of his chair with the help of his friends.

 

“Don’t mind them.” Jack thunked another new, full mug on the bar.

 

Fighting to unclench her hands and breathe normally, Buffy turned to face him.

 

“They’re regulars.” Casually clearing the shards of Buffy’s first mug from the bar, Jack shook his head. “Every night, I gotta make sure at least one of them is sober enough to give the cabbie directions.”

 

The echo was back. Buffy rubbed her right temple and climbed back on her seat. Picking up her beer, she tossed back a long drink. This time, there wasn’t even a hint of bitterness in the beer.

 

With each successive sip, Buffy stopped thinking about Willow and Tara. By the time the mug was empty and Jack put another one in front of her, even the debacle with Parker didn’t matter. Buffy hunched over her new drink and growled softy in pleasure. 

 

***

 

Tara felt a surge in energy push against her shielding. Afraid Mrs. Summers’ comment might have triggered a magical response from Willow, she reached out for the ambient energy around her and stepped out in the hall ready to do battle with her new friend to protect the older woman.

 

The inner battle preparation was wasted.

 

Willow wasn’t about to level the apartment building. Instead, she stood a half-step behind Faith, holding onto her girlfriend’s arm desperately.

 

Faith was clearly the aggressor. Hands clenched into fists, she nearly vibrated with anger. Willow’s grip on her was so tight that Tara saw the white pressure marks where her fingers met Faith’s skin.

 

“Did you have something you wanted to say, Faith?” Mrs. Summers sounded calm, as if Faith wasn’t poised less than a foot away with violence on her mind. “If you do, I’d really like to hear it. I’m feeling very confused and upset at the moment, you know. Last night, Buffy told me she was going to admit everything to you – just like she’d finally done with me.” Mrs. Summers sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes. “I told her you and Willow might be surprised, even horrified…” Her hand dropped away. “But I knew you’d be there for her.”

 

Watching the tableau with wide eyes, Tara waited for Faith to explode.

 

Instead, Faith’s combative stance relaxed slightly. “Uh…” She hunched her shoulders and looked away from Buffy’s mother.

 

Before Faith decided what to say, Willow dragged her to the couch and shoved Faith down. With no apparent embarrassment, she curled up against Faith’s side. “I overreacted,” Willow admitted softly. She stroked a hand up and down Faith’s thigh, and Tara wasn’t sure who the action was intended to calm – Willow or Faith. “What Buffy told us, it was like me and Cordelia all over again. I was big with the wigging, and I made Faith bring me home.”

 

Biting her lip, Tara realized whatever she had sensed from the kitchen was gone now. She shouldn’t be listening to this, and she certainly didn’t need to maintain her hold on all the magic she’d gathered. Moving slowly, she edged toward the hallway and the privacy of the guest bedroom.

 

She managed only a few steps.

 

“Honey, stop sneaking away.” Mrs. Summers’ raised voice stopped Tara in her tracks. Feeling like a deer trapped in the proverbial headlights, she stared at the other woman. “Why don’t you come join us?” came the quiet, yet determined, request.

 

Not in a million years, Tara said firmly. In her own mind, anyway. In reality, she stayed frozen in place, head shaking in a silent refusal.

 

Mrs. Summers didn’t acknowledge her unspoken “no.” She gently patted the empty spot next to her on the loveseat. “Please, Tara. I think we all need to clear the air about Buffy and Hemery and find a way to move on from the past.”

 

Although there wasn’t even a hint of censure in Mrs. Summers’ voice, Tara flushed and ducked her head at her comment. She had been focused on Hemery and the past since meeting Buffy in the dorm room. Her head dropped lower as she realized she was responsible for the damage to Willow’s friendship with Buffy, too. None of this would have happened if she and Buffy hadn’t become roommates.

 

Reluctantly returning to the living room, Tara perched nervously next to Mrs. Summers.

 

Her actions earned a warm and approving smile from her seatmate.  “Thank you.” Mrs. Summers lightly touched Tara’s hand before turning to Faith and Willow. “Now, who wants to start?”

 

Tara glanced up. Faith and Willow were both examining the carpet intently.

 

“Wonderful,” Mrs. Summers said with forced cheerfulness. “I’m glad no one jumped in. I actually wanted to go first.”

 

She had everyone’s attention. Tara shifted in her seat so her back rested against the armrest and watched as Mrs. Summers’ smile faded.

 

Tucking some hair behind her ear, Mrs. Summers settled back into the loveseat. “This will be a review for you, Willow,” she finally said. She looked at Faith and then Tara. “When Buffy started at Hemery, Hank and I were well on the way to a divorce.”

 

The words rolled over Tara. She tried not to drown in them. Divorce. Fights at home. A family breaking apart… The story wasn’t entirely unexpected. After all, Tara knew very well the secrets families could hide. However, she simply couldn’t reconcile the image of Buffy that Mrs. Summers described with the cruel and calculating girl she had experienced.

 

When Mrs. Summers fell silent, Tara cleared her throat. Was it time to add her side of the story? Her palms grew damp against the fabric of the loveseat.

 

“Buffy told me most of that.” Willow beat Tara to it.

 

“Then why did you walk out on her last night?” Mrs. Summers wasted no time in questioning Willow on her actions.

 

Wishing she knew exactly what had happened at the Bronze the previous night, Tara stared at her hands and waited for Willow to answer.

 

“Red didn’t walk out!” Faith exclaimed. She might have said more if Willow hadn’t slapped a hand over her mouth.

 

Blithely ignoring the angry glare she was receiving over the top of her hand, Willow said, “I was upset, yes. We left the Bronze without Buffy, yes. But I didn’t walk out like you think.” The more Willow talked, the faster the words flowed. “She tome me what she did to Tara. And, even though I knew she’d been like Cordy before you moved here, I didn’t know she’d been like her. Not like that.”

 

Mrs. Summers’ deep breath seemed loud in the silence left as Willow’s voice faded. “Willow…” She stopped for a second. When she restarted, it was clear from the strain in her voice that what she said wasn’t easy for her. “Tara, honey, I know you only remember Buffy from Hemery. What she told me last night, what she did to you, I understand why you can’t see how much Buffy has changed.”

 

The tears in Mrs. Summers’ eyes had Tara huddling in on herself. That look. It was the same one her own mother had worn whenever she’d thought she’d failed to protect Tara.

 

She sagged in relief when that pained regard moved to Willow and Faith.

 

“I don’t understand what you did, Willow,” Mrs. Summers continued. “You and Buffy have been best friends since we moved here. The two of you have been through so much together. You’ve helped her build a new life, and she trusts you enough to confide all of her secrets. Even this one.” She paused, and Tara heard her swallowed heavily. “When Buffy came home last night, she was scared of the way you’d react and she didn’t want to tell you the truth. I encouraged her to go to you, to talk to you. I assured her you would understand and that you’d help her show Tara she wasn’t that horrible person from Hemery anymore. Was I wrong to do that, Willow?”

 

***

 

The row of empty mugs shone dully in the lighting over the bar. Reaching out, Buffy traced the edge of the one nearest her. It was pretty. Shiny. She smiled and rubbed harder.

 

Responding to the force of her action, the mug toppled over with a crash.

 

Buffy jumped back with a cry at the loud sound. “Bad mug,” she mumbled softly. “Bad mug.” Glaring at it, she got comfortable on the stool again and waved a hand at Jack. “More beer.”

 

CHAPTER 12

 

Hunched over the mug, Buffy grunted. “Empty,” she lamented. Picking it up, she tried licking some of the moisture from the inside. Her tongue wasn’t long enough. Growling in frustration, she slammed the mug onto the bar.

 

Shards of glass flew everywhere, and Buffy whimpered as one of them embedded itself into her palm. Blood slicked her hand and wrist immediately.

 

“Here. This’ll help,” Jack said and held out a towel.

 

Buffy stared at him in confusion. Slowly, she reached out her injured hand, and Jack pressed the white cotton against the deep cut.

 

Giving her a concerned look, Jack stepped closer. “You OK? Maybe you should take it easy on that beer. I don’t want to have to call you a cab, too. My brother mentioned you a couple of times, and you’re a different story than those frat boys.”

 

Irritated at the continued buzz of his voice, Buffy clutched the towel over the still oozing cut and ordered curtly, “More beer.”

 

***

 

Willow’s sharp gasp filled the room. Glancing rapidly between the three women, Tara remained very still. This wasn’t her business – no matter what Mrs. Summers said.

 

“I…I didn’t mean to hurt Buffy,” Willow whispered. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “She just surprised me.” Holding out a pleading hand, and ignoring the way Faith’s arms tightened around her, she begged Mrs. Summers, “Please don’t think I did it on purpose.”

 

Holding her breath along with Willow, Tara waited for Mrs. Summers’ response.

 

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose, Willow,” Mrs. Summers said quietly.

 

Tara sagged in relief and saw Willow start to smile tremulously.

 

“Look at it from Buffy’s perspective, though, honey,” Mrs. Summers continued.

 

Willow’s smile disappeared.

 

Driving her point home in a soft and reasonable voice, Mrs. Summers said, “She confessed something terrible, Willow. Something she trusted you to hear and consider and judge based on all of the wonderful things she’s accomplished here.”

 

Tara couldn’t even look at anyone. The words were clearly not directed at her. They so easily could have been, though. They should have been. Ducking her head again, Tara realized she had only seen Buffy as she had been in the past. She’d never, not for a second, considered that time could have changed even Buffy’s personality.

 

Mrs. Summers wasn’t finished, though. As Tara peered through her hair at a softly sobbing Willow, the gentle yet devastating rebuke went on. “As if the seeming loss of her best friend wasn’t enough, her sister Slay…” Mrs. Summers faltered for a second, and Tara saw all three women stare at her for a moment.

 

Blushing at their regard, she blushed and shrank farther into the couch. Looking away, she wondered what she’d done now.

 

“What I meant was,” Mrs. Summers tried again, “that, despite the problems you two sometimes have, Faith, I know Buffy thinks of you as her sister.”

 

For the first time since she had come charging to Tara’s rescue, Faith seemed less than confident. Shifting uncomfortably under Willow, Faith said, “I didn’t do nothing, Mrs. S. Red wanted to come home. You want me to let her walk back from the Bronze after dark…alone?”

 

“Oh, Faith.” Mrs. Summers’ sigh dripped disappointment.

 

Tara glanced across the couch – then away again immediately. She never wanted that sad, pained expression turned her way.

 

Neither did Faith, apparently. “Sorry,” she mumbled into the back of Willow’s head.

 

“I’m not the one who needs your apology, honey.” Mrs. Summers shifted on the couch, reaching for the cordless phone handset on the end table next to her. “I think there is someone missing from this meeting, don’t you, girls?”

 

***

 

The loud, shrill sound coming from her pocket caused Buffy to jump, and the beer she’d been about to drink spilled down the front of her shirt and onto the bar. Growling, she wiped at the sticky, wet material clinging to her chest.

 

It didn’t help much.

 

Giving up on trying to get rid of the liquid with her hands, Buffy bent her head and sucked the beer-soaked collar of her shirt into her mouth. “Good,” she mumbled.

 

Then her eyes fell on the puddle on the bar. Moving quickly, Buffy pressed her lips to the wood and lapped at the beer. “Beer good,” Buffy announced happily.

 

She was too busy drinking to notice that her cell phone had stopped ringing.

 

***

 

“She’s not answering, Mrs. Summers,” Willow said softly. “I bet she doesn’t want to talk to me.” Clutching the phone tightly, she returned to her seat in Faith’s lap.

 

Mrs. Summers didn’t look happy, either. “Buffy wanted to talk to you, Willow. You and Tara. It’s why she went back to campus this morning.” Getting up from the couch, she wandered over to stand in front of the living room window. “It’s not like her to not answer her phone.”

 

“B’s a big girl, Mrs. S.” Faith seemed hesitant to say anything. Tara watched her drum her fingers on Willow’s arm. “I bet she went to Jeeves’ place to let off some steam.”

 

Jeeves? Tara wanted to ask who (or what) that was. She didn’t, though. Mrs. Summers turned to face them again, and she looked worried. “Under normal situations, honey, I’d think so, too. However, this is anything but normal. Could you…Willow, will you call Rupert and see if Buffy is there with him?”

 

The emotions suddenly swirling suddenly in the room engulfed Tara. Biting her lip, she watched Willow punch in a number and hold the phone to her ear. The wait seemed to take forever. “Hello, Giles? Hi. Um…it’s Willow.”

 

The reply was inaudible. Willow’s blush, though, was immediate.

 

“Sorry. I know you know who I am.” Wiggling in Faith’s lap, Willow kept babbling. “Mrs. Summers is here with me and Faith. Oh, Tara’s here, too.”

 

Mrs. Summers took a step toward Willow at the same time Faith tapped a finger gently on Willow’s lips.

 

Willow took a deep breath and smiled an embarrassed apology. “We were wondering if Buffy was there training.”

 

Now Tara heard a deep voice rumbling out of the phone’s earpiece.

 

“Oh. OK. Well, if you see her, could you tell her to call? I really need to talk to her. Bye, Giles.” Willow disconnected the call. “Buffy isn’t there,” she announced unnecessarily.

 

“You think she mighta gone back to the dorm, Red? To wait for you or T?” Faith kissed Willow’s cheek. She took the phone out of Willow’s and dialed. “Here. See if she answers.”

 

They all watched Willow intently. Finally, Willow lowered the phone. “No answer. Where would she have gone?”

 

***

 

The noise behind Buffy grew louder. She tossed back the last of her beer and slid unsteadily off the barstool. The noise needed to stop. “Stop!” Buffy commanded the group of young men shoving and grunting at each other.

 

It worked. They stopped and turned to stare at Buffy.

 

“Good.” Ignoring the gawkers, Buffy pointed at Jack who was bussing a table. “More beer.”

 

He smiled uncomfortably. “Sure. I can get you another. Just not the same stuff you’ve been drinking.” Picking up the bin of dirty glasses, Jack walked slowly back toward the bar. “My brother stopped by a little while ago and took the last few kegs.” He sighed and dropped the heavy load on the bar’s surface. “Too bad, too. It’s been my best seller tonight.”

 

Buffy’s eyes narrowed at the unintelligible flood of words. To help Jack understand what she wanted (and to get him to be quiet), she picked her mug off the bar and shoved it at him. “Fill.”

 

Looking resigned, Jack reached for the glass and dropped it into the bin with the rest of the empties. He retrieved a clean mug and stuck it under the tap.

 

A surge in the shouting behind Buffy preceded a loud crash.

 

“Son of a bitch!” Jack looked toward the ruckus. Buffy’s beer mug remained only half-filled under the spigot as he raced under the pass-through. “Hey! Break it up!”

 

Something else crashed.

 

“I didn’t mean the furniture, you idiot!” Jack’s voice roared over a ragged cheer.

 

Buffy ignored it all. She stared at the partially filled mug and licked her lips. “More beer,” she mumbled before looking furtively around.

 

Jack was wading through the group of drunken brawlers. He wouldn’t notice anything. And the few other drinkers were either cheering on the floorshow or hovering protectively over their own mugs.

 

Grinning in delight, Buffy vaulted the bar. She picked up the glass and grasped the tap handle the way she’d seen Jack do.

 

Beer flowed smoothly into the mug.

 

Grunting happily, Buffy pulled the now full glass out. Beer continued to flow from the tap. Tilting her head in confusion, Buffy pushed against the spigot.

 

Rather than stop the flow, the beer simply splashed onto the floor.

 

Buffy shoved her hand under the steady stream and pressed her palm against the bottom of the spigot.

 

The beer stopped.

 

With one last grunt of satisfaction, Buffy went back to drinking.

 

The second she moved her hand, though, beer spilled out.

 

“Bad beer,” Buffy growled. Giving up on anything more complicated than drinking, she took a huge mouthful of beer. Cheeks bulging, Buffy still managed to grimace as the taste of the brew registered. She swallowed quickly. “Uhhhh!” Throwing the bad beer mug to the floor, Buffy hunted for the good beer.

 

She pulled the tap arm next to the one still spewing beer. When new liquid flowed out, Buffy stuck her head underneath the stream and drank.

 

It was bad, too.

 

Coughing and sputtering, Buffy stepped back. Staring at the row of tap handles, she hesitated. Which one would give her what she wanted?

 

As she stood there examining the taps, something new caught her attention. Buffy’s head came up and her eyes grew intent. Beer could wait. Nostrils flaring at the acrid scent in the air, Buffy turned to the badly disheveled and body-strewn barroom. “Fire!” she announced loudly.

 

CHAPTER 13

 

No one heard Buffy. The fight across the room continued, despite Jack’s efforts to separate the combatants. Placing both palms flat on the bar, Buffy leaned over the counter and sniffed. “Fire!” she announced again – with even more emphasis.

 

Whether the others actually heard her, or they saw the first wisps of smoke floating near the ceiling wasn’t clear. However, several of the young men raised their heads and looked around. The sound of sniffing intruded on the battle noises. “Fire!” one of them echoed.

 

Buffy wasn’t satisfied with that. The smell of the smoke scared her. Fire was bad. It burned and it hurt. Nevertheless, she leaped over the bar and began hunting for the source of the blaze. She had to dodge the milling forms of the other patrons. They’d finally been diverted from the fighting by the new threat.

 

Panicked grunts and pointing fingers replaced the howls and wild punches from a few minutes earlier.

 

Ignoring it all, Buffy followed the smell. It led her out of the main barroom. She coughed as the smoke grew thicker while she paced through a dark, narrow hallway. The stench of urine mixed badly with the odor of the fire. Her nose wrinkled in distaste, but she kept going.

 

The heat made its presence known. Buffy placed her hand against the wall and now followed the warmth. It wasn’t necessary. She saw the blaze before she actually discovered the source.

 

Yellow flames licked along the bottom edge of the door down the hall to the right, and thick black smoke billowed from around the frame. Buffy stopped and grunted in fear. Fire was bad. She retreated a step; the need to flee jangled her nerves.

 

“Buffy! We can’t get out.” The panic in Jack’s voice spun her around. She stared at him in confusion until he waved her toward him. “Please. You have to help us!”

 

Some inner urging got her moving in his direction.

 

He gripped her arm and dragged her back into the barroom. The destruction was worse than before. Not a single chair or table was intact. The young men who had been brawling now held makeshift clubs and battered at the walls and exits. The smoke, which had previously only darkened the ceiling, now swirled through the entire room.

 

“Out,” Buffy said sternly to Jack. She pointed at the main door.

 

Jack shook his head. “We tried. It’s locked from the outside.

 

Driven by that inner voice, Buffy ignored Jack and ran to the door. She shoved on the silver push bar with no effect. Growling, she then threw herself bodily into the heavy metal door the next time. It still didn’t work.

 

They had to get out. That need pounded through her. The fire was bad. Turning her head, Buffy glimpsed the flames beginning to spread toward the side wall of the bar. Whimpering deep in her throat, Buffy scanned the rest of the room. There were no more exits.

 

Then a mug shattered against the wall next to her.

 

Buffy watched the tiny shards drop to the floor. Raising her hand, she stared at the nearly healed cut from earlier. “Bad beer,” she mumbled at the memory. Striding forward and shoving one of the others out of the way, Buffy hefted the remains of a table.

 

She looked up at the small series of windows near the ceiling. “Out.” With a twist and a grunt of effort, the table flew through the air – and through the glass. Buffy turned back to Jack and pointed at the now open window. “Out.”

 

***

 

Faith was the first to respond to Willow’s despondent question. “Fuck, Red, B could be a hundred different places.” She held up one hand and started ticking a few of them off. “The Pump, the library, the Grotto, X-Man’s…”

 

“Thank you, honey,” Mrs. Summers interrupted. “We all know she might be at those places. However, if she were, I believe she would have answered her cell phone.”

 

“Right. Sorry.” Faith’s leg wiggled under Willow. “You’re thinking we need to go out and look, ain’t you?” She set Willow on her feet and hopped up. “Then let’s stop talkin’ and start doin’.”

 

Tara watched the three women grab purses, wallets, and… Her eyes went wide as Faith stuffed the dagger she’d been sharpening into a sheath built into the waistband of her pants. “D-do you really thi-think you’ll need th-that?” She pointed at the weapon.

 

There was another series of looks exchanged between Faith, Willow, and Mrs. Summers before Willow offered a hesitant, “I did say Sunnydale wasn’t safe, remember?”

 

Yes, Tara remembered. However, it was still daylight outside and there were four of them. It didn’t make sense.

 

“Look, T, let it go. If you still want answers later, I’ll give ‘em to you.” Faith rocked on her heels and met Tara’s eyes. “We got other things to worry about right now.”

 

Flushing at the comment, Tara slowly climbed off the couch. “B-Buffy might b-be in trouble,” she said. “I underst-stand.” Even with her shields pulled up, Tara sensed the anxiety in the room. This wasn’t a joke to them.

 

Tara could almost see her mother’s impatient and very worried look, urging her to stop hiding and help her new friends.

 

“I mi-might be able to h-help you find her.” The words slipped out before Tara was really ready for them.

 

The three women already heading for the door froze. “Honey?” Mrs. Summers turned to give her a questioning look. “Do you know where Buffy is?” The unspoken, “And why didn’t you say something before now?” rang in Tara’s head.

 

“No!” she protested quickly. “B-but I’m a wi-witch. I kn-know a spell that helps f-find th-things. If I c-cast it, it might le-lead us right to her.” At least, Tara hoped it would. She’d never actually used the spell to find a person – only a lost locket and her pet cat.

 

Her statement galvanized the other women. They returned to the living room and gathered around Tara. “Really?” Willow was the first to say anything. “You can do a spell like that? Can you show me how? It would come in handy for, you know, when we lose or need to find…uh…stuff,” she continued excitedly.

 

Faith gently put a hand over Willow’s mouth. “Sorry, T, Mrs. S. She gets carried away, like I said before. You need anything for the spell? Red’s got some magical crap in the bedroom.”

 

“A…a few things. Salt, a kn-knife. Um…some-something of B-Buffy’s, too, if you h-have it.” It wasn’t absolutely necessary; however, now that she’d made the offer to help, Tara wanted to make sure it worked.

 

“No big. B left some clothes here the last time she stopped by.” Faith gave Willow a sheepish grin. “I kinda ran into somethin’ meaner than me and B used her shirt to stop the bleeding.” She actually flinched away from Willow’s laser-like glare. “Anyway, it’s stashed in the back of the closet. Ain’t got around to washing it yet.”

 

Mumbling escaped from under the hand Faith still had pressed over Willow’s mouth. The mumbles turned into words when Willow stepped away. “Stop your bleeding? We are so going to talk after this, Faith.” She stomped down the hallway with Faith staring forlornly after her.

 

Although she was secretly amused by the exchange, Tara stuck to business. “Faith, w-we need to m-move the couch, too, so I c-can cast the Cir-Circle.” It was far too late to back out now.

 

Giving one last glance at the now-empty hallway, Faith dragged the heavy couch out of the way as if it weighed nothing – and then moved the end tables and lamps for good measure. “That enough room for you, T?” She waved a hand at the empty space in the middle of the room. “If it ain’t, I can just take everything into the hall.”

 

“Th-that’s fine, Faith,” Tara told her softly. She walked into the clear area and paced off the Circle. As she stood staring at the carpet, Tara ran the words of the spell through her mind. It was a simple spell. She could do it…even with an audience.

 

When Willow hurried back in with the supplies clutched in her hands, Tara was almost convinced of her own ability.

 

Taking the box of salt and the steak knife wrapped in a bloodstained silk blouse from Willow, Tara glanced at all three women. She didn’t know how much any of them knew about magic so she stuck to the very basics. “Once I ca-cast the Circle, you can’t cr-cross it. No m-matter what.”

 

Faith started to object until Mrs. Summers raised a warning hand. “We won’t, honey. I promise.” Tara saw her lips thin in resolution. “What else should we do… or not do?”

 

“Th-that’s really all.” Tara tilted her head. No. It wasn’t. “And, w-well, the spell uses f-fairies to search for the ob-object. Bu-Buffy. Th-they c-can get car-carried away, and they m-move really fast.” She remembered barely keeping up with the tiny blue lights the last time she’d cast this spell. “Wh-when you see the blue lights, b-be ready to go.” The advice was as much for herself as for the others. Taking the Circle down quickly had never been easy.

 

Three heads nodded in agreement before Willow, Faith, and Mrs. Summers all moved back a few steps. Their avid interest in the spell made Tara twitch. Goddess, what had she been thinking? She had enough trouble talking without stuttering.

 

Blocking that thought as best she could, Tara set the shirt and knife on the floor and opened the box of salt. She backed slowly in a mostly circular shape, pouring the salt as she intoned softly, “Goddess Diana, grant that this Circle remain hallowed ground. Aid us in our search for our lost companion. Ward this space against those who would do us harm.” As she spoke the final word, Tara finished the salt circle. Silvery waves of light sprang from the floor and grew in height until they reached the ceiling. Cut off from her audience, Tara took a moment to use an internal mantra to regain her calm.

 

Finally, Tara knew she was as ready as she would ever be. Now she retrieved Buffy’s blouse and the knife. Holding one item in each hand, she lifted them to shoulder level. “Aradia, Goddess of the Lost, the path is murky; the woods are dense, and darkness pervades. I beseech thee - bring the Light!”

 

Tara reached across her body and nicked her wrist with the knife. Blood dripped from the shallow cut, staining the edge of the blouse she clutched. “I beseech thee – bring the Light!” she repeated.

 

A gasp from one of the trio behind her (and the sudden drain on her energies) let Tara know the spell had been a success. She slashed her right hand in a short, sharp downward arc. “Begone!” Tara commanded the magical barrier around her. It wasn’t the recommended way to take down the Circle, but it would have to do. She kept a close eye on the magic as it grounded and dissipated safely.

 

“T, we ready? Them lights is already down the street,” Faith called out.

 

“R-ready.” Tara had to sprint to keep up with the rest of the searchers as they rushed outside.  They didn’t follow the fairies down the sidewalk the way Tara expected, and she nearly asked why – until Mrs. Summers unlocked the door to a Jeep sitting in the nearby parking lot.

 

In minutes, the older woman zipped down the street with the twinkling green lights less than a block ahead. “Hang on, girls!” The Jeep weaved around a slower-moving car and took an abrupt right as the fairies changed directions.

 

“Fuck me!” Faith grabbed the roll bar and stood up. “Mrs. S, step on it.”

 

“Did you see Buffy?” Mrs. Summers asked over the squeal of the tires as the Jeep surged forward.

 

“No.” Faith’s right hand pointed to something in the sky. “But I bet I know where to find her.”  Black smoke rose in a cloud from a nearby building. “Where there’s fire, there’s B.”

 

CHAPTER 14

 

Tara lurched sideways as the Jeep swerved to follow Faith’s pointing finger. As they careened closer, the smell of smoke grew – so did the crowd of gawkers.

 

“Fuck!” Faith growled. “We got trouble, Mrs. S. All them people… Gonna make it hard to do anything and not have ‘em noticin’ or talkin’.”

 

“I don’t think that’s important right now, honey.” Parking diagonally in front of the burning building, Mrs. Summers turned off the engine and they all piled out. “Right now, we need to find out if Buffy is inside.”

 

The conversation faded in Tara’s consciousness. Something wasn’t right. Frowning, she tried to trace the feeling. She had to strain. Whatever had set off her senses was shielded. Tara tapped into her own power reserves, not trusting the ambient energy in the area to be untainted by the source of the problem. She was sweating and shaking by the time she finally located it. Under heavy shields, a faint magical signature colored the air with a wispy black cloud. “Goddess…”

 

When Tara opened her eyes, she found herself alone on the sidewalk. Panicking, she looked frantically around. She calmed slightly when she located her missing companions. Faith, flanked by Willow and Mrs. Summers stood under a series of windows set high on the wall of the building.  Tara took one step in their direction. She needed Willow’s help.

 

One step was all she managed, though. Eyes wide, Tara stared at the scene near the building. Bodies – human bodies – flew through the upper-story window, screaming and flailing their arms and legs.

 

That wasn’t the most extraordinary thing happening, however.

 

As if the flying forms weighed nothing, Faith calmly caught each one and set them on their feet to be helped away from the fire by Mrs. Summers or Willow.

 

Enough was enough. Already keyed up from her discovery, Tara reached deeper into her personal well of power to do something she would normally never even consider without permission. Turning her Sight on Faith, she searched for answers. The moment Tara peered at Faith without her shields in place, all the answers to many of her questions came crashing in. Faith’s golden aura, the weapons in the apartment, and the quickly cut off conversations…

 

Faith was the Slayer. The knowledge broke her out of her trance. Tara started running again, shoving the rest of her questions aside for the moment. “Willow!” she called out as she drew closer. 

 

The other girl turned. “Tara? Are you OK? You just kinda froze back there. If you…”

 

Before another babblefest could start, Tara interrupted. “S-someone used ma-magic on the front doors. That’s why th-they’re coming out of the windows. It m-must be the only way out.” Willow was, by her own admission, a novice witch. Tara seized on that. “I need your help.”

 

The news caught Willow off guard. “What? Tara, we have to help Faith and Buffy get those people out of the building. See?” She indicated another person hurtling out of a window.

 

Buffy? How was Buffy…? Pushing that thought aside for later consideration, Tara gripped Willow’s arm. “I th-think we can b-break the magical l-lock if we work toge-together.” She saw Willow open her mouth. Not ready to argue or answer any more questions, Tara began dragging the reluctant girl toward the front doors. “Listen, W-Willow,” she said intently. “The si-sirens are g-getting closer and there are a l-lot of pe-people standing around. S-Some of them with cam-cameras. Do you really w-want F-Faith on the evening n-news?”

 

The indirect threat worked even better than Tara hoped. Willow picked up the pace until they were both sprinting. When the stopped at the doors, Tara took several deep breaths to slow her panting.

 

“What do you need me to do?” For once, Willow wasn’t bouncing with excitement. She met Tara’s eyes solemnly. “I’ve never done anything big, you know.”

 

Tara took her hand. “I n-need you to dr-drop your shields.” She felt Willow pulling them down. “When I tell you,” she said forcefully.

 

Willow’s shields snapped back up as she stared at Tara, wide-eyed.

 

“Th-thank you.” Tara didn’t explain further. They were running out of time. Instead of talking, she lowered her own personal wards and probed the area for a safe way to expand her power. Other than a few weak and muddied puddles of energy, there weren’t any. They were on their own.

 

Stifling a sigh, Tara stopped searching and simply tapped into her own reserves. Magic swirled through her channels and tingled just under her skin. “N-now, Willow,” she ordered softly.

 

When Willow complied, Tara stretched out her aura, carefully merging their energies. It was tricky. Sweat poured off her body. Each time she moved too quickly, Willow’s magic fluoresced and sparked. That meant starting over. By the end, Tara was gritting her teeth and shaking from the strain.

 

The effort was worth it. Willow might be untrained, but she was immensely powerful. Flushed with the influx of energy, Tara linked her hand with Willow’s. Concentrating, she focused all their combined strength on their joined hands. She flung their hands up in the air, as if they were pushing the door open physically. At the apex of the swing, Tara released the magical energy in a sharp burst.

 

The doors shuddered in their frame; however, they didn’t open.

 

Tara poured more and more power into her focus point. She dropped their hands and tried again. This time, the magic fluoresced visibly as it arc toward the building.

 

With a loud explosion, the doors flew open. Pieces of wood and metal rained down around them and black smoke billowed out of the entrance.

 

***

 

Buffy picked up a wiggling and panicking boy and heaved him toward the window. He screamed the entire way, and she grunted in satisfaction as the annoying sound faded once he began his descent on the other side of the wall. “Who next?”

 

No one stepped forward. Clustered together in the middle of the barroom, the five remaining patrons and Jack stared at the growing wall of flames nearly surrounding them.

 

“Who next?” Buffy shouted again. Her inner voice demanded she save everyone. Now! When there were still no volunteers, Buffy growled and stalked forward. She would simply pick someone. Grabbing the nearest college student with both hands, Buffy dragged him back to her launching point.

 

Before she could throw him to safety, though, a cavernous boom sent them all cowering to the floor.

 

Covering her head with her hands, Buffy waited for another bang. Nothing happened. Slowly and cautiously, she climbed to her feet. The air… Sniffing, Buffy caught the distinctive odor of fresh air. “Out!” Tossing her “volunteer” over her shoulder, Buffy waved her left arm at the others. “Out!”

 

None of them looked eager to run into the flames until two new figures ran into the room from the direction of the front door. “B-Buffy! Hurry up! The d-door’s open and the f-fire tr-trucks are pulling up outside,” one of them shouted.

 

The words didn’t make sense, but Buffy recognized the girl. With a happy grunt, she carried her cargo in that direction. “Out!” she stated one more time. Jogging through the spreading fire, Buffy headed for the exit with the rest of the stragglers rushing behind her.

 

As soon she cleared the bar, Buffy tossed the man over her shoulder to the ground. People. Lots of people. She spun around and around, staring at all of them.

 

***

 

Tara dodged the body Buffy had unceremoniously dumped on the ground. Sucking in deep gulps of the smoke-filled air, Tara coughed and blinked burning eyes. She didn’t have long to recover. The bystanders had moved closer. Now, they pressed in, pointing and murmuring. At first, Tara was too busy struggling to breathe to notice.

 

A loud growl snapped her head up, and breathing took a backseat to concern.

 

Buffy stood a few feet away, arms raised and hands outstretched. Her fingers were curled into a claw-shape. The growl emanated from her throat as she appeared to keep the crowd from getting any closer.

 

Without thinking, Tara threw herself across the intervening space and wrapped her arms around Buffy. “It’s OK, B-Buffy.” The body under her quivered and twitched. “C-Come on. Let’s g-go fi-find Wil-Willow. Sh-She was w-worried about you.”

 

Buffy didn’t seem ready to move. The growl had lessened some, but the other girl remained frozen in place for a second before settling into the embrace.

 

“B-Buffy?” Tara tried again. Was she hurt? Nearly grunting from the effort, she managed to turn them around so Buffy had a good view of the side of the building where Faith and Mrs. Summers continued to help the people who had exited through the windows. Tara kept looking. She needed Willow’s help with Buffy.

 

Unfortunately, Willow was surrounded by another group of gawkers on the other side of the front doors.

 

Persevering, Tara let go of Buffy with one arm and pointed at the rescue efforts on the side of the building. “L-look. I’m su-sure your mom c-could use our h-help.”

 

She hit a chord. “Mom?” Buffy parroted. Her voice sounded odd, deep and rough. Almost guttural.

 

Probably from the smoke, Tara supposed. “Yes, sw-sweetie. Your m-mom.” Releasing Buffy completely, Tara began to walk backward in that direction. “W-we need to he-help them.”

 

Buffy’s eyes widened and she…grunted? “Buffy help.”

 

Before Tara could comment on that, Buffy took off. Running past Tara with frightening speed, she headed for Faith and Mrs. Summers.

 

Tara followed much more slowly. As she jogged after Buffy, she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Why was Buffy acting so strangely? Had whoever locked the door also cast a spell on the people inside? Tara picked up her pace. She was scanning Buffy and the fire survivors before she even reached them.

 

“Hey, B. Nice idea – tossin’ ‘em out the window,” Faith said as Tara got closer. “Just hope one of them people over there didn’t get nothin’ on film. I’m thinking Jeeves won’t be real happy if you make the news.”

 

The only response from Buffy was another hair-raising growl.

 

Mind grappling with what she’d just seen with her Sight, Tara staggered to a stop and planted herself between the two. She was getting answers – soon.  Until then, Tara made sure to block Buffy’s access to the other girl. “Faith,” she warned softly. “D-don’t talk to Bu-Buffy right n-now.” Keeping a close eye on Buffy, Tara tried to explain part of what she’d glimpsed in Buffy’s aura. “The ma-magic on the d-door wasn’t the only sp-spell.” She had to pause as Buffy moved. Tara moved with her in a disjointed dance. There was too much potential for violence if Buffy and Faith faced off. “I th-think Buf-Buffy’s under a sp-spell, too,” Tara finished.

 

CHAPTER_15

 

“Well ain’t that just fucking great.” Faith grimaced. “Guess B won’t be much help gettin’ us outta here before the cops and firemen show up. You got any ideas, T? With the bodies flyin’ out the windows, we need to leave. Now.”

 

Tara agreed with Faith. She didn’t say that, however. Her attention was on Buffy and her rapidly shifting aura. “Faith…”

 

Before she could complete her warning, Buffy growled and threw herself at Faith. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs. Tara froze. What was she supposed to do now? The fight (although, it was more grunting and rolling) was garnering even more attention. Fingers pointed and a few people began to make their way closer. Magic was out. No one would miss the pyrotechnics if Tara tried anything arcane.

 

“Good God! What are they doing?” Mrs. Summers and Willow sprinted up. “Girls!” She took a hesitant step forward and then stopped. Buffy’s hair-raising growl hadn’t diminished and she appeared to be flailing both arms at Faith.

 

Faith was fending the blows off. She wasn’t, Tara realized, fighting back. “B, for fuck’s sake…” Missing a block, Faith’s head snapped to the side. “OK. That’s it. I’m tired a bein’ nice, B.”

 

“Faith! Don’t hurt Buffy!” Willow bit her lip and bounced in place. She didn’t seem to realize – or care – that Buffy was most definitely not the one in danger.

 

Ignoring the plea, Faith reared back and hit Buffy. To Tara, it looked like a killing blow. Faith grunted with the force of the swing, and there was a dull, meaty thud when the punch connected.

 

Buffy grunted as well, and her eyes widened. Slowly, with almost cartoonish sincerity, she blinked at Faith and mumbled, “Ow.” The next punch knocked her sideways. This time, Buffy didn’t protest. She simply slumped lifelessly to the grass.

 

It was as if the fire destroying the bar had suddenly sprung up under everyone’s feet. Faith scrambled up and tossed Buffy’s body over her shoulder. “Let’s motor, gang. Even in Sunnydale the fire trucks show up.” She jogged toward the Jeep and the rest of them hurried after her.

 

As Mrs. Summers drove carefully through the throng of bystanders, Tara’s skin tingled. She looked up and scanned the crowd with more than just her eyes. There was a lot of power out there…somewhere. “W-Willow,” she said urgently, “I n-need you to li-link with m-me again.” Not bothering to explain why, Tara reached out a mental hand and waited impatiently for Willow to grasp it.

 

The shared energy helped Tara focus. Closing her physical eyes and leaning back against the seat of the Jeep, she thinned her awareness and pushed outward from her Center. It was tricky because the vehicle was moving. Tara continually adjusted her anchor points as she searched for the source of the magical signature. Finally, teeth gritted against the slippery feel of the trail, Tara found it.

 

Unfortunately, arcane stalking wasn’t her forte. In her excitement, Tara’s magic pulsed as she approached her heavily shielded prey – and he noticed. A blast of controlled power slammed into her mind, and Tara lost her connection with Willow. Crying out sharply, she sent energy into her own shields in time to deflect a second blow. The sizzling power wrapped around her, coating her wards and looking for a weakness. Tara held very still inside her protections and kept the shielding smooth by feeding in energy from her personal stores.

 

It worked, and eventually the malevolent magic drained away.

 

Gasping, Tara’s eyes shot open. “Goddess.”  She moaned at the knifing pain in her head.

 

“Tara?” Willow peered at her, pale and concerned. “What happened? What were we trying to do? And who, or what, was that that I felt?”

 

“Save the questions, honey,” Mrs. Summers interrupted. Tara wanted to hug her. She wasn’t up to a barrage of questions at the moment. “Right now, I’m taking us all home. Once we get Buffy settled in,” she glanced across the console at Buffy, lying in Faith’s lap, “and cleaned up, we can all chip in with explanations.”

 

Mrs. Summers was very good. Biting back a smile at the way Willow immediately turned to face the front and stopped talking, Tara bowed her head and started a short meditation exercise. Her awareness of the Jeep and its passengers faded. With each repetition of the mantra, Tara worked on relaxing the muscles and blood vessels in her neck, face, and head. She returned to herself only when the lack of motion announced they’d arrived at their destination.

 

It wasn’t Willow’s and Faith’s apartment. Instead, the Jeep sat next to a small house, set back from the street and shaded by a deep porch and trees. “OK, girls. Inside. I know what the aftermath is like. I’ll start in the kitchen.” Mrs. Summers hopped to the ground. Like a general organizing her troops, she fired off directions. “Faith, get Buffy into the shower.”

 

Faith scowled and appeared ready to protest.

 

“I don’t want to hear it. Willow isn’t strong enough to hold her.” Mrs. Summers narrowed her eyes at Faith. “And if Buffy wakes up in the same mood she was in before…” The words trailed off, laden with meaning.

 

“Gotcha, Mrs. S.” Still looking unhappy, Faith hauled Buffy out of the Jeep and resettled the unconscious form over her shoulder. “B gets a bath.” She stalked up the walk to the front door.

 

Tara froze when Mrs. Summers’ gaze fell on her. “Honey, I think you and I need to talk. You saw something at the bar, and I want the full story.” She grimaced. “Unfortunately, what I know about magic wouldn’t fill a thimble.”

 

Her eyes shifted away, and Tara sagged. Was it a mother thing? Mrs. Summers didn’t look anything like her own mother had. The look, though… Goddess. Feeling shaky from the encounter and the earlier magical expenditure, Tara started toward the house.

 

In the background, she heard Mrs. Summers issue her final edict. “Willow, honey, call Rupert as soon as we get inside. As much as I hate to admit it, I think we need his experience on this.”

 

***

 

Warm. Wet. Buffy smiled and wiggled at the sensation. It felt good. Then she jerked erect. The fire! Eyes snapping open, she sniffed deeply.

 

“What the fuck are you doin’, B? Hold still and close your eyes. I ain’t listening to you whine ‘cause you got soap in ‘em.” The voice was angry, and Buffy growled a warning. “Spell or not, stop with the growling. You’re gettin’ the Slayer all riled up, and you know how Red hates it when we get violent.”

 

Frowning in confusion, Buffy stared at the other girl. Why did everyone keep making all the funny sounds? Where they supposed to mean something?

 

“Whatever.” Even without understanding, Buffy took exception to that word.

 

Her growl rose in volume, and she shoved the other girl away from her. “Girl mean!” Buffy snapped. Ignoring the girl’s shocked look and grunt of surprise, Buffy hopped out of the shower. She had to get out of here.

 

“B!” A foot landed on the floor behind her.

 

Buffy didn’t wait to get captured. She found the handle on the door and ripped it open. With a rending sound, it came completely off the hinges. Uncaring, Buffy tossed the door to the side and ran into the hallway.

 

It was empty…and oddly familiar.

 

Pausing wasn’t an option, however. Buffy could hear the other girl running after her. She continued her mad dash down the staircase in front of her.

 

A grunt escaped her at the bottom. There were more people here! Buffy’s inner voice didn’t panic, though. This woman… The voice liked this woman. Buffy slowed her paced. “Who you?” she asked.

 

That’s when a body slammed into her from behind and two arms wrapped around her body. “Sorry, Mrs. S. B decided to get cute. It won’t happen again.”

 

The girl had found her. Buffy howled and fought the hold of her captor. “Off!” Planting her feet firmly on the ground, she shoved off the floor. The force of her push sent both of them backward to crash on the floor. Buffy grinned in satisfaction at the whoosh of air leaving the girl under her, and the moan of pain that followed. “Off!” she repeated before scrambling away.

 

“Oh for Heaven’s sake,” the older woman said. Her hands were on her hips, and somehow, Buffy knew that meant she’d done something wrong.

 

Buffy’s shoulders slumped. Making this woman angry made her feel…sad. Tears leaked from her eyes. “Buffy bad,” she mumbled. Simply saying the words made Buffy feel even worse. She took a step away from the woman and wrapped her arms around her body. “Buffy sorry.”

 

The woman frowned, and her hands slipped off her hips. “Honey, don’t…”

 

No. No matter how sorry she was, Buffy refused to let them catch her again. This woman and her looks hurt her. Pivoting on one foot, Buffy dashed away again. There was a door to her right, and that’s where she headed. Maybe there was a way out. A way away from the mean girl and the hurtful woman.

 

She hit the door at full speed. It swung open, and Buffy never slowed as she ran through. There was not, however, a way out of the house on the other side. Instead, Buffy hit something. Someone, actually. For the second time in just a few minutes, Buffy fell to the floor.

 

***

 

Tara shrieked in surprise when Buffy hurtled through the kitchen door. The sound quickly mutated into a cry of pain when Buffy careened into her and they topped to the ground. Her head thunked onto the tiles, and, despite her small size, Buffy’s body drove the air from Tara’s lungs on impact.

 

Tiny black dots floated in front of Tara’s eyes. “Uhhnnn,” she choked out. “B-Buffy?”

 

A soft rumble answered her question.

 

Trying to focus her eyes, Tara peered up. It was definitely Buffy making the noise. At first, thanks to the blow to her head, Tara was only aware of the cold kitchen floor under her and Buffy straddling her waist.

 

Little by little, the dots faded. Willow, Faith, and Mrs. Summers crowded in the doorway. As her vision finally cleared completely, Tara registered two very surprised faces – and one very large smirk.

 

“Fuck, I wish X-man was here with that camera,” Faith said. Her smirk grew impossibly bigger. “Can’t ya’ just see B’s face when the spell wears off and we got this hangin’ in the living room?”

 

Following Faith’s line of sight, Tara suddenly wanted the dots back. “Oh, G-Goddess,” she whimpered. Buffy was still straddling her, making the strange rumbling sound – and she was naked.

 

 

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