Time Heals All: a Willow/Tara fic with a terrible title

Author: Big_Pineapple

Feedback: Yes, including title suggestions, line edits, and general comments

Spoilers: vague reference to all seasons

Setting: Pre-season six and onward, AU.

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Copyright law. My girlfriend explained it to me once, but we were both falling asleep. Thank you, Mutant Enemy, for giving me Tara, but you jumped the shark.

Summary: Home again. What could go wrong?



Part XV: No Place Like Home

Tara watched Willow’s eyes open in a haze of tantric energy. She hadn’t expected danger to be so beautiful. Willow covered her face with her hands and exhaled, then sat up and yanked her shirt over her head.

“Are you not hot?”

Hot, Tara thought, staring at the freckles that slipped into the edges of Willow’s bra.

Willow laughed and reached for her, saying “Come on!”

They fell backward, and the cloth over Tara’s face stretched for miles. She scrambled to get to the end of it. Willow grinned at her when she escaped, and there wasn’t a stitch of cloth to be found on either of them.

“That’s better,” Willow said.

“Did you find it?” Tara asked, brushing red hair out of her face and behind Willow’s ear. “The answer?”

Willow nodded and leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Something’s inside of you,” she said. “We have to get it out.”

Tara sat up on her elbows when Willow moved away from her, but her arms gave out and she collapsed on the floor. Willow was searching inside her, running her fingers along the walls of her and dragging a long red thread of sensation out with her free hand. It coiled in a neat pile on the floor next to Willow’s knees.

Her head thrown back, Tara saw an ash tree growing. Something was shaking its roots, and the convulsions it made were the shudders that shot up through Tara’s body.

The inward eye, the sightless sea, Ayala flows through a river in me. That had been the first time.

The thread grew taut, and every muscle in Tara’s body strained, pulled between her lover and the tree.

“Here I am,” Willow murmured, and her fingers plunged deeper, until it felt like they were stroking Tara’s heart.

Tara woke in ecstasy, and she decided it was time to go home.



Angel scrambled to gain the upper hand, but he hit the floor over and over again, rolling to his feet and back into the fight. His staff cracked, and he flung it aside. The pieces split, and one whizzed into Tara’s hand. It was at his heart in a flash.

He swept Tara’s arm away and clapped her on the shoulder. To fight her full on was something he couldn’t do, but she had proved she could hold her own. Few vampires had the skill Angel had.

“Did I pass?”

Angel laughed. “Do you have to actually stake me to feel accomplished? Yes, you passed.”

Tara followed him to his desk, tracing her fingers through the condensation on her water glass. “W-what about the blade work? I um. It’s new.”

“I’d trust you with a sword,” Angel told her. “In fact, you should probably start working with one, instead of just holding the staff that way.”

“I’m leaving.” She blurted it out. “Tomorrow.”

One beam of sunlight slipped into the room, through a slat in the blinds that had been broken during a fight the week before. Tara watched the dust swirl in it, uncertain what to do now. Angel watched her.

“Why?”

Tara shrugged. “It’s time. I um, I got something out of me here, something… I can deal with it. With S-sunnydale.”

“With Willow.”

She nodded.

“What does Dawn think?”

“She’s out with Cordelia. I think she’s going to stay with her tonight? It’s good, to go now. Dawn starts school in a couple of weeks, so we can get settled, get her school supplies before the locusts descend.” Tara laughed. “It was always hell trying to find those folders with the brads in the middle. You know, the… oh. You’ve probably never been school shopping.”

Angel shook his head. “Cordelia took me office supply shopping once. There might actually be a hell dimension like that.”



Dawn was in heaven. Cordelia insisted that new clothes were in order, and she could spot a bargain in thrift stores. Of course, she went into those type of stores in a fashionable hat and sun glasses, and she shushed Dawn every time she called her by name, but that added to the fun.

“Tara’s really good at shopping like this,” Dawn said, pawing through the denim jackets. “I don’t think she likes it, though. Do you think she uses magic to find what she wants? She’s so fast.”

Dawn pulled a short, tight jacket off the rack, and Cordelia told her to put it back. “Flow and length are in this year, trust me. How about this one?”

She pulled a long red cloth jacket with tribal patterns sewn into the hems.

“What should we get for Tara?” Dawn asked while she rubbed the twists and turns of the embroidery. “She lost her red coat, the leather one.”

“She doesn’t need a new coat.”

Dawn stared at her. “But she really liked that one.”

Cordelia flitted from rack to rack, offering suggestions and ignoring the questioning looks Dawn gave her.



“She won’t come.”

Tara repeated the guard’s words, the theme of every morning for weeks, in her head while she secured boxes of food in the camper van’s cabinets, sorted clothes into clean and dirty bags, and strapped down everything that might try to escape while she drove down the highway.

Faith had been refusing to see her. Yesterday, after washing up from her spar with Angel, she had gone again, and stood for a while with Harry, the young guard who was there too many days of the week. She had glanced around at the other visitors, huddling up to their phones as if it brought them closer to the person on the other side of the glass. She wondered if she had looked like that before, with Faith.

“Mr. Harry,” she had asked the guard. “Could you um, could you do me a favor?”

The guard had stood straight and eyed her. “Depends.”

“Tell Faith I’ll be here tomorrow at nine to say goodbye.”

Now, Tara counted the silverware in the drawer and groped around in the hole where the table sunk down for a missing fork. She was afraid to get to the prison early, wait until she lost her patience, and leave just before Faith changed her mind. But then, she was running out of things to stall with, since she hadn’t slept the night before. Almost everything had been ready since four that morning.

At exactly nine o’clock, she walked into the visitors’ area to shouts of, “Lehane, sit down!” She put a gentle hand on the guard’s shoulder and told him it was all right. Faith stared at her, her weight firmly planted; she wasn’t going to budge from her spot, no matter what happened.

Tara waved her hand for silence, and the spell guarded their conversation from outside ears.

“Faith, please,” she said, clinging to the phone with both hands.

“Funny, that doesn’t sound like goodbye.”

“I can’t do this by myself,” Tara pleaded. “I’m not strong enough.”

“Then you get stronger or you die. Grow your own balls, T!”

Tara cocked her head and gazed at her in confusion. “You have balls?”

Faith blinked and searched for some way to respond. After a moment of scanning Tara’s face for some sign of where that response had even come from, she saw the corner of Tara’s mouth twitch. Despite herself, a breath of laugher escaped her. Tara shot her a wicked grin, and they both burst out laughing.

“God!” Faith gasped, “What is wrong with you?”

“I missed you so much.”

Tara didn’t have long to linger. Dawn was expecting her at Cordelia’s at ten, and really, she didn’t know what to say.

“I’m so scared.” It was all she could think.

Faith ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “I wish I could help you,” she said. “But the person I was is dead. So I guess you’re the Slayer now.”

“I-I don’t think it works that way.”

“It’s all we got.”



At ten, Cordelia loaded Tara down with Dawn’s new clothes, then thrust a wrapped package into her arms.

“Open it!”

Tara slipped the shopping bags off her wrist and the duffel off her shoulder, and she peeled the wrapping paper off along the taped parts. She folded it lightly and set it on the floor, and pulled the box open.

“My jacket?”

Cordelia beamed. “I took it to this costume designer I know, told him we needed it for a low-budget vampire movie. I gave him all the supplies and said you were doing all your own stunts, so it had better actually work. There are pictures of it in his portfolio. Hope you don’t mind.”

The bottom half of the box dropped to the floor when Tara let it go and shook the jacket out. Elastic had been sewn into the lining, and it held two stakes, a crucifix, and a small bottle of holy water with an odd nozzle.

“He designed that on the fly,” Cordelia explained. “It sprays water a good three feet.”

Tara shook her head in wonder. “Thank you.”

“You almost got us killed in that thing. It’d better not happen again.”

Cordelia followed them to the office. Wesley hugged Tara and went on about the rules of combat. Angel stood with his hands in his pockets, uncertain. Tara shook his hand.

“If you need anything,” he said, “we’re here.”

“I’ll call.”

Angel knew things in Sunnydale could happen faster than he could reach her, but she seemed so confident, he kept his worries to himself.

Dawn stood at the back of the van, waving out the window, until they turned a corner, then she settled into the passenger seat. For an hour outside of Los Angeles, she sat rubbing the hem of her new short denim jacket.



Willow slumped onto Giles’s couch and returned to the books she’d read over and over.

“I just don’t get it. Do different emotions cause different spells? Like, am I going to conjure a demon every time I’m happy for the rest of forever?”

Giles rubbed his glasses and sat down next to her. “That doesn’t seem to be what the texts imply. Really, the only problems seem to arise when they’re experiencing negative emotions. And of course, because it’s not documented, the emotions could simply cause them to fall off the wagon, as they say.”

“I’m on the wagon!” Willow protested. “Why would I not be, when Xander’s okay? I’m reading all the self-help books and changing my thinking and replacing bad habits, and I still lost a whole week in a day!”

“It’s complicated. The best thing to do for now is to maintain control…”

“Don’t give me that control crap,” Willow snarled. “I’m kind of on a rant here, not looking for practical solutions.”

“Would it help to talk about something else?”

Willow groaned. “Something is wrong, Giles.”

“But you are making progress. The Buffybot is exceptionally knowledgeable, and quite convincing. As long as you didn’t know Buffy well, of course.” Giles shifted on the couch, turning to face Willow more directly. “Why did you tell her to wait on the porch?”

“So she could see if Tara needed help with carrying stuff. And I don’t think non-humans can use the spare key.”

Giles put a hand on her shoulder, waiting until she looked him in the eye. “We will sort this out.”

Willow pulled away and buried herself in a book.



By the way Dawn slept in the van, Tara guessed she’d been up all night. She almost hated to wake her when they pulled into the driveway. For a minute, she watched the girl sleep, then she ran her fingers through her hair and gently shook her awake.

“Dawnie? Wake up, sweetie. We’re home.”

Dawn groaned and tried to roll over. Tara climbed out and started gathering an armload to carry into the house. She wanted to finish unloading before sunset.

“Do you need assistance?” the Buffybot chirped when Tara came onto the porch.

Tara handed her a box of food and unlocked the front door. The robot followed her inside and started putting the food away at a dizzying speed.

“We already have cheerios,” she said as Tara returned to the door. Looking back, Tara could see that the pantry was stocked with dry goods. Bewildered, she told the bot to put the cereal up anyway and come with her to the van.

On the way down the porch, Tara heard a mewing. There was a cat carrier sitting on the porch swing.

“Oh, Miss Kitty!” Dawn rushed to the porch, dropped the few bags she had picked up, and whisked the cat into the house, leaving Tara to deal with the rest of their things.

With the Buffybot’s help, the van was emptied quickly. Tara told Dawn to heat up the leftover Italian food they’d had for lunch, and she turned to carry the dirty clothes into the basement. The Buffybot was standing there, smiling.

When she didn’t say anything to it, the bot announced, “You’re Tara!”

Tara waited for the simple statement, but the bot launched into a litany of information, including her birthday, her mother’s name, and the name of her favorite horse from back home.

“Um.” This was something she hadn’t braced herself for. She had expected to run into Willow in some small way: something she’d forgotten around the house, mail that had been delivered, her handwriting in one of the spell books. This was something conscious that Willow had done. Willow was thinking of her.

Tara shook her head and shoved past the Buffybot, trying to ignore the feeling that maybe she should have stayed in LA, forever.

When her foot hit the last step of the basement stairs, the feeling was swept away in a wave of terror. The M’Fashnik demon charged out of the shadows, smashing the bottom four stairs just as Tara scampered up them, screaming for Buffy.

The bot appeared at the top of the stairs, and Tara dove behind her. She ran into the living room and grabbed the staff that was standing beside Buffy’s old weapons trunk. The M’Fashnik was grappling with the robot, and Tara beat the demon over the shoulders and ordered the Buffybot to take it outside. The three of them staggered toward the kitchen door, tangled together, and slammed into the refrigerator and one of the bar stools on their way. Finally, the M’Fashnik gained the upper hand and heaved the Buffybot through the door.

When it turned on her, Tara beat the demon back, until he tripped and fell down the porch steps.

“Dawn!” she yelled. “Bring the Buffybot a weapon!”

The Buffybot rose unsteadily to her feet and examined the terrible angle her left arm was hanging at. The M’Fashnik raised an arm to slash her, but she smiled and announced, “You’ve injured me. I need service.”

To Tara’s horror, the robot turned on its heel and walked out of the yard. For a moment, the M’Fashnik stood, his arm in the air, trying to understand what had happened. The little kings, he realized. They had offered him a robot as payment for his service, and they had used this one against him. The robot was not the Slayer.

Dawn ran onto the porch with a crossbow and the biggest sword she could find. She handed the sword to Tara, who dropped her staff, and fired the crossbow into the demon’s back.

When the M’Fashnik turned, he was running a list of all the things he knew about the Slayer. A girl, small, young, blonde. His eyes fell on Tara.

“Slayer.”

“Oh god.”

The demon charged, and Tara learned something about swords that Angel hadn’t taught her: they’re heavy. She heaved the blade clumsily off the ground and managed to nick the creature’s leg, but it seemed unphased. It plucked the crossbow arrow out of its shoulder and threw it at her. Tara ran, dragging the sword behind her. The least she could do was get this thing away from the house and Dawn.

The demon picked up her discarded staff and raised it above his head. Tara slipped out of the way and caught it on the down stroke with one hand, jerking with all her might until the demon was off balance. She tried her best to raise the sword with the other hand, using magic to help, and managed to cut a slash in the M’Fashnik’s shoulder. Dawn tried to shoot the crossbow again, but the arrow whizzed past Tara’s head, so she searched for another weapon. All she could find was the garden hose.

Tara saw Dawn running up, whirling the metal-tipped hose above her head, and she pulled water out of it with as much force as she could. The demon was trying to get his hands on her, but he couldn’t catch her. Still, she was tiring, and offense wasn’t getting her far.

The spray of water, to Tara’s surprise, brought the demon nearly to his knees, and Tara swung her sword up and buried it in his stomach as he fell. The water came over him and knocked her to the ground.

Panicked, Tara got to her feet and tried to run on the wet grass. When she slipped, she rolled onto her back and realized the demon wasn’t pursuing her. It was lying on its stomach, perfectly still. Dawn was nudging it with her shoe.



“Willow, I need service!” the bot announced, just as Giles’s phone rang.

Giles answered the phone, and Willow turned her attention to the damaged robot.

“What happened?”

It beamed at her. “Tara and I were attacked by a demon.”

“Is it dead?”

“No. It injured me.”

“So Tara’s still fighting the demon?” Willow imagined a towering creature with Glory’s elegant hands, grabbing Tara and twisting.

The Buffybot nodded.

“And you just left her there!”

“I’m injured.”

Giles interrupted Willow’s fury. “Tara’s on the phone,” he told her. “She’s alright, don’t mangle your robot.”

Willow spun away from the Buffybot and ordered her down the hall for repairs. Giles found his car keys and a hacksaw and drove to the Summers house.

“It smells horrible,” Tara told him when he arrived. She led him through the house to the back door and into the yard, where the demon lay. “I told the neighbors a wild dog attacked us. That sort of stuff is in the newspaper all the time, right?”

Dawn nodded. “That and people falling on fondue forks.”

“Eat your dinner,” Tara scolded her, and she retreated back into the kitchen.

Giles knelt beside the demon and examined it. “We should look into what type of demon this is. You said it was in the house?”

“It’s an M’Fashnik. Tough fighters, pretty good with basic strategy. It was in the basement when I went down.”

“How can you identify it?”

Tara shrugged. “Cordelia had a vision of this thing robbing a bank. We thought it was in LA, but I guess not.” She ran the tip of her shovel along the lines of muscle on the M’Fashnik’s arm. “It looked a lot bulkier in the books.”

“How long ago was this vision?” Giles inquired.

“Almost a month ago.”

“Perhaps this demon’s basic strategy was simply to wait,” Giles suggested. “Many reptilian demons can survive for some time without eating or drinking.”

Tara nodded. “That would explain why it was so sluggish. And why I could beat it.”

“Let’s just be grateful for that.”

The demon was too heavy to lift, and too bloody to be transported without making Giles’s car look like a crime scene, so they dug a hole for it, working with the porch light when the last of the sun faded, and dragged the creature bit by bit into the hole. The smell of blood made Tara sick to her stomach, but she managed to hold herself together until the demon was buried and the blood washed off the grass as best as she could tell. But when they stepped through the mangled remains of the door and into the kitchen, Dawn offered her leftover lasagna, and she vomited over the porch rail.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled to Giles. She wouldn’t meet his eye.

“It’s alright,” he assured her. “It was one of very few demons you’ve dealt with, correct?”

Tara nodded. “My first.”

“Buffy threw up, too,” Dawn offered. “Her first time, she barfed all over everything. You could smell it on her shirt when she came home. You didn’t even get it in your hair.”

Giles laughed and hugged Dawn. “Well, with all this over, I think I should greet you all more properly. I’m so glad you’re home.”

“I think I should brush my teeth,” Tara said. “I’m glad to be home.”



Xander arrived early the next morning and found Tara slumped over the island in the kitchen, asleep, with Miss Kitty Fantastico curled up between her shoulder blades.

“I brought the door,” he told her when she woke.

She stood up, stretched, and hugged him. “Thank you.”

The door was easily replaced, and Tara helped him haul and nail the planks to replace the last few stairs into the basement. As payment, she fed him breakfast and lunch.

“I don’t think that covers the cost of all this,” she told him while he chewed.

Xander waved this away. “Welcome home present,” he said. “And you’re pretty handy with a hammer. What’s with the van?”

“Oh. I-it’s going back to the lot today.”

“What lot?”

Tara cocked an eyebrow.

“My parents are looking for one. And if they travel, I’m less likely to hear from them. Hey, maybe I could convince them to go on vacation during the wedding!”

Tara was still adjusting to the idea of Xander and Anya getting married. It hadn’t registered during the trouble with the Tabula Rasa spell, but he had confirmed it was true. They discussed arrangements for a while, along with Xander’s theory that his parents wanted to buy a camper so they’d have less money to offer him for the ceremony. After a while, their talk slipped into the clumsy silence they usually shared. Beyond pleasantries, they didn’t quite know how to talk to each other. Tara had a suspicion that his life and hers hadn’t been so different when they were growing up, but it wasn’t something either of them wanted to discuss. Instead, she let him eat in silence while she wiped down the counters.

“She’s doing well,” he said suddenly. “Willow.”

This wasn’t true. Some nights he sat with Willow and Giles, searching through the same books that they had all read the time before, searching for answers and finding nothing. Willow was tearing her hair out. But nothing in the world would have brought him to tell Tara that.



Willow woke up with her head in the Buffybot’s lap, her computer dead beside her. She ran into the living room, calling for Giles.

“Are you sure they’re okay?” she demanded, and when he assured her that Tara and Dawn were safe, she dropped onto the couch, moaning.

“It’s my fault!” she said. “I was so angry, Giles, and something horrible happened, again. God, we should just shoot me.”

Giles poured her a mug of tea. “Unlike your previous incidents, I don’t think this was something you did. The demon had been in the house for quite some time, and he seemed to be hunting the Slayer.” He handed the tea to Willow and sat next to her. Willow wrapped her hands around the mug and looked imploringly at Giles.

“Tara said the demon had robbed a bank. It was in the newspaper here, I believe. Your anger yesterday had no consequences.”

Willow was still for so long Giles was afraid she had lapsed into a time warp again, but the look on her face was of such intense concentration that he didn’t dare disturb her. When she did move, it was only slightly.

“Do you have a book on katras?”

“You’re referring to the type of magic Faith used, when she switched her body with Buffy’s?”

Willow nodded.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think I’m not doing this. Someone else is doing it to me. And I want to know who.”



Jonathan dropped his headset and squeaked, “Guys, we’re in trouble!”

“Wrong, stimpy,” Warren said, slapping the back of his head. “There’s nothing to lead her to us. And besides, look what they’ve been talking about! Who’s she thinking of, if she’s thinking bad magic?”

Jonathan and Andrew looked at each other, then back to Warren.

“Amy.”


---------------------------------------------

Happy fourth to those who care. There are a lot of documentaries about slavery on TV, so that's good, at least. And hot dogs and hamburgers all around! Nothing like German food to celebrate the birth of the United States.

Also, a note: This chapter is dedicated to my editor, Ray. She works as hard as I do.

Kay

dibs!

Yay, Tara's back in Sunnydale, kicking ass and taking names.

And while things shift suddenly, there's none of that feeling of schizophrenia that i got from reading some of the earlier stuff.
Go you!
Or maybe i read the current chapter at a better time of day.

Now is Willow losing chunks of time? groundhog-daying or both?
i'm a little confused. i get that the trio is messing with her, just not capable of tracking what they are doing with her.

keep up the good work.

R

_________________
“All I feel is sunlight. All I hear is music.” Willow
How i Met Your Mother - By Ariel

My Story: Coming Home

Time Heals All: a Willow/Tara fic with a terrible title

Author: Big_Pineapple

Feedback: Yes, including title suggestions, line edits, and general comments

Spoilers: vague reference to all seasons

Setting: Pre-season six and onward, AU.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Copyright law. My girlfriend explained it to me once, but we were both falling asleep. Thank you, Mutant Enemy, for giving me Tara, but you jumped the shark.


Part XVI: Living Conditions

From the day he saw Tara’s application for the University of California in Sunnydale, Donny had made the same joke.

“Are you sure it’s UC Sunnydale? ‘Cause I don’t think you can see it from here.”

He would laugh and slap Tara’s shoulder, hard. Her father told her Donny was only teasing, and to let him be. Financial aid had been his only concern; when she was given a full ride, his response to her request to attend was, “We’ll see how that goes.” He hadn’t needed to tell her to write thank you letters to the people who had given her aid.

Alongside the federal grants and school aid, the list of names Tara had been given on her financial aid letter was seven long: the Rachel Lee Grant, the Tobias, Gregson, and Morton scholarships, the Jesus Sanchez academic achievement award, the Maria Cho excellence award, and the Joel Jones Out-of-State Fund. On the lone computer in her high school that was working properly that week, she looked up each name.

Rachel Lee, UC Sunnydale freshman: died October 9, 1993.

Lou Tobias, UC Sunnydale freshman: missing since May 23, 1994.

Samuel Gregson, UC Sunnydale freshman: died January 16, 1996.

Annie Morton, UC Sunnydale freshman counselor: missing since June 12, 1996.

Jesus Sanchez, Maria Cho, Joel Jones, UC Sunnydale freshmen: died December 1, 1998.

“What is this place?” she had asked herself, but in the end, it didn’t matter. She dutifully wrote letters and sent them in a package to the school, asking to have them forwarded to the managers of the money.

Her first night on the highway after graduation, in the back of her cake van in a Wal-Mart parking lot in Knoxville, Tennessee, she had blessed them. She carved each of their names onto a candle, lined them up along the back bumper, and watched them burn to nothing. Mr. Alvarez had scraped the wax off when she sold the van to him.

For her sophomore year, there had been four names: Wesley Hart, Micky Horowitz, Lisa McDaniel, and Journey Houston. Tara had let the candles burn in the window of her dorm room, mingled with the candles Willow had made. In the center, they had lit one tall blue candle, for all of the people who had died during the year. Willow had paid the fine they incurred for having candles in the dorm.

This year, the letter had come in the aftermath of Buffy’s death, and Tara had lost it in the move from the dorm to the Summers house. A new copy, which she had requested months ago, came the day Dawn started school.

“Who were they?” Dawn asked, when Tara explained why she needed the names.

Tara swallowed. “I didn’t know most of them, but um, Tabitha Zerlandar was in the W-Wicca group.”

“Were you friends?”

“No, I never talked to her,” Tara said. “But um, I caught her staring at my breasts once.” She laughed, then ran her fingers along Tabitha’s name on the paper. “I was going to go to the funeral, but then it was crazy fun time, so…”

“Oh, that girl. Yeah.”

Tara looked questioningly at Dawn. She hesitated, then explained, “You sent flowers. Willow bought them, and she helped you sign the card.”

Neither of them knew what to say. They cooked and ate dinner in near silence, and when Dawn sat on the couch to watch Tara carve candles, she didn’t send her away. She lit the five candles for the year in the fireplace, then dropped a match in a bowl of rose petals.

“Who’s that for?” Dawn asked.

“Ms. Jackson-Lowe, the woman who handles paperwork in the financial aid office.”

“She died, too?”

“N-no, actually. She wanted to get married in Vegas, and one day she finally did. Just, left. The whole office was in an uproar, and that’s why it took me so long to get this letter. The um, the rose petals are a blessing for her.”

Tara settled beside Dawn on the couch, and they watched the candles together until they were gone.



Willow’s search for Amy had turned up nothing in a week. She, Xander, and Giles had confirmed that the spells that had interrupted her flow of time could be cast by an outside party, and the demons that had attacked her had certainly been conjured. The real estate agent Willow and Amy had spoken to hadn’t heard anything from them since, and the landlords of the apartments they had looked at knew nothing.

Willow had called every hotel in town, and when one of them had refused to tell her whether Amy was there or not, she had gone in the early morning and banged on every single door. When an irritated customer who was not Amy answered the door, she cheerfully declared “Good morning! Sunnydale Motor Inn hopes you enjoy this personal wake up call! It’s now six thirty a.m. Have a nice day!” Only one of the customers had cussed at her.

The Salvation Army had never heard of Amy Madison. No on with that name had been checked in to any hospital in the area, and no police reports had been filed. Willy, at the demon bar, had checked for word from the underground, but none of Rack’s clients knew Amy by name, and no one who wasn’t high had seen her.

Amy’s father never answered the phone, and he never returned Willow’s calls. When all other options ran out (except the locator spell, which wasn’t an option anymore), Willow walked to his home and knocked on the door.

Mr. Madison knew her from the late nights she’d spent with Amy in high school, after his ex-wife had disappeared. He had smelled the sulfur and incense that clung to her when she left. He answered the door only when Willow lingered on the porch for half an hour, knocking every few minutes until the dog went hoarse from barking.

“Hi!” she said, hiding her annoyance. “How’s it going? I didn’t wake you up or something, did I?”

“No.”

Willow looked around him, into the house. “Is Amy here?”

“No.”

He started to shut the door, but Willow put a hand on it.

“Do you know where she is?”

Mr. Madison was ashamed to say no to that, so he opened the door and let Willow come inside.

“I know what you are. There’s no magic allowed in this house.”

Willow was standing in the hallway, looking at the photographs on the wall. She was in one of them, standing with Amy and Xander and a few other kids she didn’t remember at her tenth birthday party.

“That’s okay,” she said. “I don’t do magic anymore.”

The first few pictures from high school had been taken in front of a trailer on the outskirts of town, or in a beat-up fishing boat. In one of them, Amy’s hair was slightly shorter on one side than the other; a spell they’d cast to increase her father’s fortunes had made the candles flare, and they had lit her hair on fire. Amy had clipped the charred ends and used them as an offering to the goddess of luck. From that photo on, the clothes, car, and eventually the house itself had increased in richness. Then Amy had disappeared.

“What do you want?”

Willow shook off the memory and turned to Mr. Madison. He was staring at the pictures, too.

“I need to talk to Amy. When will she be back?”

It took so long for Mr. Madison to answer that Willow figured it out for herself.

“She’s not here at all. Do you even know where she is?”

Mr. Madison straightened a picture on the wall. “She wasn’t herself when she came here. She was her mother. You don’t know what that woman did to me.”

“I can imagine.”

“She controlled me. Sometimes… Sometimes she would lose her hold, and at first I wouldn’t know where I was. Amy was here, a little while ago, and I’d wake up and wonder if my life was even mine, or if she’d done something to me. I couldn’t be sure who I was when she was here.”

Willow backed away, shaking. Mr. Madison only turned to her when he heard the door open.

“I thought she would come back,” he said.

“Maybe she will,” Willow told him, and then she shut the door.

When she turned toward the street, Amy was standing on the sidewalk, arms crossed, smiling at her.

“Looking for me?” she said.

Willow nearly fell over backward, and Amy laughed. She beckoned Willow to follow her down the street.

“Rack told me you were, and I guessed you’d come here. Did my dad give you the speech about how his life isn’t his anymore?”

“It’s not,” Willow told her. “We…”

“He likes his job, and his life is great. Who cares who made it that way?”

“But he’s living a lie, Amy. One that we told him.”

Amy smiled at her. “Is evangelism part of your twelve-step program, or do you just get self-deprecating when you’re bored?” She stopped and grabbed Willow’s arms. “Come over to my place, we’ll clear up this doom and gloom and have some fun!”

“Where’s your place?”

“Same place it’s always been,” Amy said. “Mom put protective spells on the house, so it won’t sell. It’s technically still mine.”

Willow shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s how property works.”

Amy shrugged.

“Look, Amy, fun sounds, you know, fun, but…”

“But that’s not why you were looking for me.” Amy let amusement show on her face, not disappointment.

“I’ve been having these weird… spell problems, and I think it’s because of someone else.”

“And you want to get them back?”

“No, I… The way I acted the last time we talked was kinda harsh, so I’d understand if you were mad at me, but…”

Amy cut in. “You think I did it?”

“Not on purpose!” Willow assured her frantically. “Just… Well, when I did stuff with Rack, it kind of got out of control, and so, I thought maybe, if you were mad you could accidentally…”

“Oh, so you think I don’t have control of my powers.” Amy laughed. “You’re incredible. You’re so pathetic it takes you three years to turn me into a person again, and when I show you what real power is, you chicken out a leave me completely alone. Where did you think I’d go? I told you I wasn’t ready to talk to my dad yet. You were all I had. But you go all self-righteous on me, and when something screws up again, you insult my abilities and you blame me!”

Willow trembled. “I’m sorry, I…”

“No you’re not!” Amy snapped. “You’re just trying to say the right thing so I won’t be mad at you anymore.”

“Amy…”

“Just leave me alone.” Amy backed away from her, growling, “I’m fine without you.”

Shaken, Willow did what she was told and walked away. Amy watched her go, wondering if Rack knew who was really messing with her.



Giles was breathing heavily, and he kicked himself for getting out of shape. Or perhaps he was just getting old. Tara danced around him, and he could never get a solid grip on her. Her bare shoulder was hardest to graspp, slick with sweat and close to her agile hands. She had asked him to train her, and they had started with a small sword and knives; her technique was clumsy, and she could barely hit a still target, let alone a moving one. Her only redeeming factor was that her grip was strong, so she was at no risk of losing her blade in a fight. Even though she had beaten a demon, Giles hadn’t been expecting her to fight so well.

“Right then,” he panted when Tara nearly dropped him to his knees, a sheathed knife easily out of his reach. “I think perhaps that’s all for today.”

When he reached for the knife, Tara jerked it away, then smiled and laughed shyly. She handed it over and pulled a light jacket over her sports bra and began drinking water at a rate Giles wasn’t sure was healthy.

“Your technique is impressive, and quite effective,” he said, holding the door between the training room and the Magic Box open for the girl. “It’s really quite remarkable what you can do with your…”

Willow was crouched beside the computer, wiping blackish-purple sludge off the individual keys of the keyboard. Tara saw her, too, and quickly jerked her jacket shut over her chest.

“Body,” Giles finished.

“Wow,” Anya said when the moment couldn’t be more silent. “That was an awkward thing to say in front of Willow.”

Willow stood clumsily, knocking the carefully organized clean keys out of order.

“Tara. W-what are you doing here? I-I mean, it’s okay for you to be here if, you have things that you have to… be here for.”

“Yes,” Giles interjected, floundering between the two girls. “Tara and I were training, er, honing her…”

“Angel taught me.”

Willow nodded. “Cool. Well, I’m just, cleaning the computer. Thought I had it taken care of, but…”

“I-is that um, eye of newt?”

“It was, like a century ago. It got everywhere.” Willow rolled her eyes.

“I’ve been supervising,” Anya said. “She’s not allowed to touch anything.”

Giles glared at her. “Perhaps we should deal with that inventory problem now,” he suggested, and when Anya started to question him, he guided her into the basement and shut the door.

Tara glanced around the room, uncertain what to do. Her eyes settled on the ceremonial dagger on the floor by Willow’s feet. Willow followed her gaze and bent down to pick it up.

“Bad habits learned from Oz,” she explained. “No screwdriver? That’s okay, I’ll just use this knife.”

Tara couldn’t stop herself from asking, though she was afraid to know. “Is that… b-blood?”

Willow held up two bandaged fingers. “That’s why it’s a bad habit.” She set the dagger on the desk and shifted her weight nervously. “I-I’m glad you’re okay. You know, with the demon and all. Did Angel freak out like Giles thought he would?”

“Oh yes. But I um, I told him about the seeker light, so he can at least pretend he can get to me in an emergency.”

“Maybe he can,” Willow said. “And the Buffybot’s workin’ better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Sure thing. It’s nice to have something to do, you know. Something I used to do.” Willow set her hand on the desk and covered her hands in newt. “Eegh. A-anyways, it’s going better. Magic free for sixty-three days.”

“M-Mr. Giles said sixty-nine.”

Willow shrugged. “He counts the week I fell into a time warp. We’re still working on who did that one.” She picked a random computer key off the desk and wiped it with a damp cloth. “It wasn’t Amy,” she muttered.

“I-I have to go wash up for class,” Tara said suddenly, unable to stand there any longer.

“Good plan,” Willow said. She held up her gooey hand. “I should probably go wash up for… ever. This stuff is disgusting.”

Tara almost smiled as she walked past her to the door. The bell jangled, then Willow heard her name. From the doorway, Tara told her, “I’m glad you’re feeling better.” And then she was gone.



The Buffybot was struck full in the face with a glass bottle that night. Willow’s alterations didn’t allow her to desert the fight, but she was disoriented. She stabbed at thin air while the vampire who had attacked her stared in confusion, watching sparks fly from her head. When she tried to step forward and banged her shoulder on a trash bin, the vampire laughed wildly. The Buffybot was incapable of giving chase, and after awhile, she realized there was nothing to chase. In her mind, this was a victory. She turned around and lurched toward Willow, slamming into things until late morning the next day. Giles was at the Magic Box, and Willow was in class. The Buffybot stepped backward and forward, hitting her injured head on the door.

The vampire lived long enough to inform a group of drunken Hellions that there was no Slayer in Sunnydale.



Tara felt exposed, like she had left the house with one shoe off, leaving weaponless. She wore her fighting coat, with the holy water, the cross, and her less pointed stakes hidden inside, but that was all. Sharp things and weapons were frowned upon at the University. She had tried taking her staff to class with her once, but the looks she got were so confused and hostile she decided to avoid the embarrassment. It was unlikely, after all, that something other than a vampire would try to attack her on her Tuesday night walk home.

Dawn had found a hole in a tree where she could hide the sharpest stake they had in the house. Xander pulled over and let her place it there when he drove her to school in the mornings, and she would pick it up when she walked past at night. Still, Tara worried about her. Besides the obvious risks Dawn faced when walking home by herself, there was Tara’s secret fear that, one of these days, Dawn would try to pull a fast one on her. She prayed it wouldn’t be on a night when there was trouble. She also prayed that, somehow, she could get a car of her own.

Jobs were what preoccupied Tara while she walked home: what was available, how she could get them, and whether or not she would ever have time to work on top of class, patrol, and being a single stand-in mother. She was halfway to the Summers house when the Hellions arrived. When Tara saw them, she dashed for the closest alley and used the cover to climb the air. In the safety of the rooftops, Tara made her way home as quickly as she could, thinking of only one thing: Dawn.



Dawn had chosen the wrong night to not go home. Struck by a sudden loneliness, she had wandered into the Magic Box instead, to chat with Anya and admire the small stones in the trays along the wall while she did her homework. She could make it home before Tara did; the classes ran so late on Tuesdays. And as long as her homework was done, who really cared where she did it?

She was packing up her books when the Hellions reached Main Street. Giles saw them coming.

“Dawn, Anya,” he said, “get in my car.”

Anya tried to lock the door of the shop before they left, but Giles grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away.

“Where are we going?” Dawn asked.

Giles wasn’t sure. “Somewhere these creatures are not,” was all he could think to answer.



Willow was sitting at the Expresso Pump, trying to focus on her computer science homework in the fading daylight. She knew all of this; she just had to take the class to get the degree she wanted.

“God,” she thought. “I wish this homework would just disappear.”

The rush of the motorcycle careening through the Expresso Pump scattered her papers; she, like the rest of the customers, dove for cover. Unlike the others, when a second bike came through, she picked up a bar stool and took a swing at the driver. He jerked suddenly and drove into the bushes just outside the café. One man took advantage of the creature’s distraction rage to guide the other patrons out, while Willow stood in front of them with her stool, like a lion tamer on the brink of losing control of her act.

The demon smashed her stool to splinters, and she ran down the street to the Magic Box.

No one was there, but the door was open. The Hellion was slower than she was, and she managed to duck under the desk before he spotted her. But he knew she was there. Willow could hear him lumbering about, smashing shelving and jeering at her.

When he raised his ax to destroy the desk, Willow wasn’t sure he had even realized she was under it. She screamed, and the Hellion wasted a precious second laughing before he lowered the ax. It sailed past Willow, out of the demon’s hands, and buried itself in his back. He fell away, as surprised as he was dead.

“Are you okay?”

Willow stared in wonder. “Tara?”

Tara looked out into the street, then back to Willow, urgently. “There’s more out there. Come on.”

She heaved Willow to her feet, paused, and yanked the ax out of the dead demon before she strode to the back door. Something moved in the alley, and Tara put an arm out to stop Willow from going further.

The figure running his hands along the fine contours of the motorcycle and muttering to himself was too tall and slim to be a Hellion, and too blond and British to be mistaken.

“Spike,” Tara hissed. “Spike!”

Spike looked up, and Tara led Willow toward him, looking anxiously up and down the alley as she went.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nice bike,” Spike said, pointing to the motorcycle. “Great machine, probably runs like a well-oiled… machine.” He dropped his uncaring act and straightened his shoulders. “Right. Where’s the nibblet?”

Tara shook her head. “I wish I knew. Where have you looked?”

“House, school, Bronze.”

“Thank you.” She gestured to the motorcycle. “Can you drive that thing? Safely?”

Spike sneered at her. “Yeah.”

Tara grabbed Willow’s arm and pushed her gently toward him. “Take Willow to Xander’s place. They haven’t hit that part of town yet.”

“What in the bloody hell makes you queen?”

Tara opened her coat. Spike nodded.

“You’re getting to be a tough little bird,” he muttered, but Tara didn’t hear him. A group of Hellions a few blocks away had spotted them.

“Take her and get out of here.”

Willow caught her sleeve. “What about you?” she implored. There wasn’t room for three on the bike, she knew.

Tara was tucking the ax into the belt of her coat, settling it in the small of her back and jerking the belt tight around her.

“I have to find Dawn,” she said. “Go. Now.”

Willow watched Tara take a running leap and grab the bottom two rungs of a fire escape on the side of a building. She braced her feet against the wall and pulled herself up and into the dark.

“Oh, bollocks,” Spike snarled, and he grabbed Willow by the waist and hauled her onto the motorcycle.

Tara sprinted across the rooftop, headed toward a taller one nearby in the hopes of getting a good view. The sound of the motorcycle spitting gravel and driving away just barely reached her ears. When she came to the edge of the roof, she stopped, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the air.

Bridges like this were delicate. She couldn’t rush, or she would damage them; too much abuse, and they would break all together. Starting at five feet off the ground, Tara had taught herself not to look down, because it made her want to run.

There were shouts from the demons below her, but they were struggling to find roof access. Tara didn’t expect any trouble from them. She lingered at the edge of the next roof, surveying the town. Xander’s area of the city was still entirely untouched. The area that was aflame had grown, though, and too quickly for her to waste time. She should use a light to find Dawn.

She stepped into the air, thinking the bridge would be a better place for conjuring because of the focus it already demanded of her. Halfway across, just as she was pulling the energy she needed upward, the bridge shook. Tara nearly fell.

Behind her, a Hellion was struggling to regain his balance so he could charge. There was no other choice, Tara knew, but to run and pray the bridge would last long enough for her to reach the other side before it collapsed or the demon caught her. She’d been doing an awful lot of praying tonight.

When the Hellion got his feet under him, he tried to charge, and his weight dragged the bridge below the lip of the building Tara was running toward. With every step he took, the bridge shuddered and slipped, and they both had to regain their balance before they could go further.

Tara was nearly across, but the Hellion was nearly on her, and she could barely feel the bridge under her feet. With a deep, focused effort, she lunged for the rooftop. The bridge collapsed under the added pressure.

She got her right forearm and her left hand on the lip of the roof. The force of gravity wrenched her shoulder, but she didn’t fall. The Hellion did.

Before she lost her grip, Tara slung her leg over the edge of the roof and rolled herself over. It was a farther drop from there to the actual roof than she had expected, and she landed on her back and knocked all the wind out of her chest.

In the street, the Hellions were cursing and growling. Through her panting and gasping, Tara only heard one thing. One of the demons screamed up to her, “You’re dead, witch!”

Tara took a deep, painful breath and rolled onto her knees, sighing.

“Not yet.”

nice clean action scene.

Tara the badass!

either my brain is recovering, or your story is jumping around less.
either way: good.

I really enjoyed this chapter, it showed how far Tara has come and gave hints (just little ones) of reconciliation.

I wonder if rumours are going to spread that the slayer is back in town? (Blonde, kicks ass: slayer)
either way, i'm looking forward to what happens next.

R

_________________
“All I feel is sunlight. All I hear is music.” Willow
How i Met Your Mother - By Ariel

My Story: Coming Home

Very Nice Action scene!

I thoroughly enjoyed this update. I hope Faith will show up soon to help out.

Please update again soon.

_________________
"When Mother Nature starts howling and crying...I smile. I love thunder storms!"

Gonna try and get some actual feedback in before I commence the gushing.

First, the characterizations are perfect. Despite how much we all hate to think of them as such, the girls really act like ex-girlfriends. It's a fantastic touch and I love it so.



Amazing.

The way you write Tara's magic is great too. It's clear that she knows her limits, and constantly calculating what to do, thinking before doing. Now to the gushing:

First off, EEEEE! Okay, so any good action scenes featuring Tara automatically sets me into 'OMG Tara, why are you so hot?" mode, so thanks for that wonderful sequence. Great action sequence. We don't see too many of those around these parts. You seem to be doing great already, but I'd love to offer my service as a reference for any fighting sequences. I've several years of Aikido and Eskrima, so when you described the way Tara moved, and even her knife training with Giles, I could see everything so clearly in my head and that really added to the experience.

Hope to see more from you soon!

_________________
"If I can't be a good example, might as well be a horrible warning."

"Friendship is obviously magic. Love is a sorta super strong friendship. We gay people love so hard we broke 'Social Norm'. Ergo, we gay people are ultra-strong wizards."

Time Heals All: a Willow/Tara fic with a terrible title

Author: Big_Pineapple

Feedback: Yes, including title suggestions, line edits, and general comments

Spoilers: vague reference to all seasons

Setting: Pre-season six and onward, AU.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Copyright law. My girlfriend explained it to me once, but we were both falling asleep. Thank you, Mutant Enemy, for giving me Tara, but you jumped the shark.



Part XVII: Bring on the Night

Willow couldn’t understand the almost universal belief that vampires were sexy. She was pressed into Spike’s back, her arms tight across his chest, and there was no heartbeat, no rise and fall of breath, and no warmth. She would rather be hugging the motorcycle; it at least had a pulse of some kind.

Hellions were swarming the streets, and Spike was struggling not to pick up a tail. His course had wound them around more streets than Willow could keep track of, but they were almost as far from Xander’s apartment complex as they had been when they left Tara behind. Spike was considering heading for in interstate instead. Unless of course the interstate was what the Hellions had come in on. In that case there might not be any interstate left.

A light flashed by them, and Spike swerved, thinking it was another motorcycle, but Willow squeezed him so hard he thought he’d snag his tongue on his teeth.

“Look! It’s Tara!”

“I can’t bloody look,” he told her. “I’m driving!”

Willow rolled her eyes. “The light. Tara must have found a safe place for us.”

“She told us to go to Xander’s,” Spike replied.

“Yeah, and you’re getting us there in record time. Just follow the light.”

They whizzed past a group of Hellions, and the demons gave chase. Spike was getting tired of people who should rightfully be his midnight snack handing out orders, but following the fairy light that looked like it knew where it was going was as good a plan as any.

At top speed, they could keep the light in their sights, and Spike managed to cause a crash in the group of Hellions that were following them, killing one and slowing the rest down enough that he didn’t feel nervous. The light zipped around a corner, and when Spike turned, it was coming right back at them. So was Giles’s car.

Giles slammed on the brakes, and Spike yanked the bike around. The Hellions had caught up, and they were blocking the street. Behind the car, another small group of demons slowed down and boxed them in.

The top of Giles’s car was down. Spike and Willow could see the light whirling in circles over Dawn’s head.

Willow clambered off the motorcycle and tried to look like she was in charge. She stepped out in front of the group, sputtering, “Now look, we don’t want any trouble…”

“But trouble you got,” one of the demons growled, stepping out to meet her. “In fact, me and my boys came here looking for a massacre. Why don’t we start with you?”

The demon took a step forward, and a column of flame burst up in front of him. The wind from Tara’s sudden descent, the compression of the steps she’d made as she bounded down them, blew smoke and leaves in a ring away from her. To the demons, it seemed like she’d appeared in the fire itself.

“Or we could start with you,” she said, and she slammed her ax into his chest. Using the handle as a lever, she threw the demon aside, letting his weight pull him off her weapon.

“Who the hell are you?” a second Hellion asked, standing hesitantly at the head of the group.

Tara straightened her shoulders and stood as tall as she could. “I’m Tara,” she told him, “the Vampire Slayer. This is my town.”

She, and her friends behind her, took a breath in and waited. Her sudden appearance, her skill, and her sheer bravado would have been enough to convince the Hellions, and they would have decided that easier pickings could be had just a little ways down the road. A quarter of the town was smashed; they’d had their fun. They would have left Tara with her bluff, and the night would have been over, but for one thing.

Spike laughed.

Tara whirled on him so suddenly he thought she’d thrown a stake. The crucifix hit him between the eyes, and he shouted curses at her while the Hellions had a laugh of their own.

“Did you miss, Slayer?” one of them taunted.

Willow picked up the crucifix and held it like a tiny sword. There was nothing else around.

The new leader took a step toward Tara, chuckling. “I’ll break you in half, girl,” he snarled.

“Get in the car,” Willow hissed, grabbing for Tara’s wrist. Tara was muttering to herself, and a smokescreen billowed out of her hands. She blinked, then turned with Willow and dove for Giles’s car. Willow opened the door and climbed in the back with Dawn; Tara turned to block an ax that struck through the fog and leaped over the car door. Her ankle rolled when she landed on the seat, and Willow winced for her, but Tara didn’t seem to notice. Facing out the rear of the car, she crouched and gripped the back of the seat while Giles slammed on the gas. Spike’s motorcycle blew past them, and then the Hellions burst through the cloud of smoke. Tara shot curses at them, magical and otherwise, until the car rounded a corner, and she lost sight of the creatures. Shaking, she turned and slipped into a sitting position.

“Have we lost them?” Giles inquired.

“F-for now,” Tara panted. “Are you guys okay?”

Dawn leaned forward and put a hand on her knee, which Tara covered with her own. “We’re fine,” Dawn told her.

“Xander’s not,” Anya said. “He’s not here and we have to go find him.”

“Is he at home?” Tara asked her. When Anya said yes, she said, “Then he’s fine. They still haven’t worked their way that far west.”

“Then we should go pick him up before they do.”

Willow nodded. “I agree.”

“There’ll be other people in the building as well,” Giles commented. “What are we going to do about them?”

“Wish them luck?” Anya suggested.

A motorcycle pulled out of an alley and tried to ram the car. Giles dodged, but he scraped his side mirror off on a car that hadn’t been so quick. He couldn’t be sure if the woman in the driver’s seat of that car were alive or dead. Tara reached behind herself and started tugging the car roof up. Anya secured it at the front.

The motorcycle followed them down the road, and three others followed. Tara reached into the earth and asked it to crack; a fissure opened in the road, flinging the demons off their bikes.

“We won’t make it anywhere without these things following us,” Tara said. “Anyone else who’s on the street is in just as much trouble.”

Giles gripped the steering wheel and glared into the dark. “Well, we certainly can’t leave any civilian we come upon behind. It would be safer if we could form a convoy of some of the sturdier vehicles from the apartment complex, and it would get more people out along with us.”

“All I care about is Xander,” Anya said. “Wow, they’re ax murdering that patio over there. I wonder how much that’ll cost to fix.”

“I know a barrier spell that’ll hold them off until we can get organized,” Tara suggested. “I’d just need some supplies.”

Giles adjusted his glasses. “There’s no way to reach the Magic Box now. It’s much too dangerous. And the closest shop beyond that is nearly half an hour away.”

“And who says if we get out we can get back in?” Dawn added.

“We’re not leaving without Xander!”

“No one’s suggesting that,” Tara murmured, trying to soothe Anya. “We just need to know where I can get supplies.”

Willow squirmed in her seat and stared at her hands. “In the pantry at Xander’s. It’s not much, but, it should be what you need.”

Tara looked at her out of the corner of her eye, then turned to the window, watching the chaos glide by and trying to come up with a plan.

“This spell,” Giles asked, “it would take a great deal of energy, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

A motorcycle ran in front of them. Giles yanked the wheel and hit the bike with the back corner of the car.

“Would it be wise, then, for you to do it? To be perfectly plain with you my dear, you are our main line of defense as far as actually fighting goes, and we’ll need you at your best.”

“I could do it,” Anya and Dawn offered at once.

“No,” Willow told Dawn, who looked imploringly at Tara. Tara didn’t look at anyone.

“Anya would be harder to carry, if there’s trouble. I’ll show Dawn what to do.”

She made the decision in the background of her main focus, hammering out a plan. When another Hellion tried to follow them, a mere three blocks from the apartment building, Tara rolled down the window and shot fire at him in a manner that was almost off-handed. She didn’t come out of her thoughts until she stepped out of the car on her injured ankle.

“When did that happen?” she said, marveling at the jolt of pain.

Giles reached to assist her. “Adrenaline is a marvelous thing,” he said.



Xander was still getting used to a full day of heavy lifting. He had been asleep in front of the television when Anya burst through the door, shouting, “We’re here to save you!” He panicked and scattered pretzels from a bowl in his lap all over the floor.

Tara limped in, forcing her leg to hold her.

“Bring me what you have,” she told Willow, without quite looking at her. “But then you need to stay away from it.”

Willow ran into the kitchen and started ferreting plastic bags out of the pantry. Tara sat on the couch next to Xander and asked him if she could have some of the pretzels that had managed to stay in the bowl.

“Sure, in exchange for telling me what’s going on.”

Giles removed his glasses and cleaned them nervously. “There are demons in the town, Hellions to be exact. Quite brutal creatures, and for no other reason than that they enjoy it.”

When Willow offered a fistful of herbs, a ceramic bowl, and a box of matches to Tara, she took them and hooked a few pretzels on her fingers, motioning to Dawn.

“Mr. Giles, will you call Angel, please? Xander, Anya, we need weapons. Anything you think we could use.”

“Sure,” Xander said again, staring at her as she shut herself and Dawn in the bedroom. “Is it just me,” he asked, “or has Tara suddenly become the Boss of Us?”

“The phone is dead,” Giles said.

Willow rolled her eyes. “Great.”

“I think the legs come off the side table,” Anya said. “Those could be weapons.”



Dawn sat down on the edge of the bed, and Tara knelt down in front of her, slipping the pretzels into Dawn’s hand.

“What are these for?”

“Um, f-for eating?” Tara said. “It’s just… when my mind goes into crisis mode, I kind of try to feed everyone.”

Dawn smiled at her and nibbled a pretzel. Tara put her hand on the girl’s cheek.

“This is hard, Dawnie. You have to stay focused as much as you can, and it takes so much out of you.”

“I can do it,” Dawn told her. “You don’t have to be scared.”

Tara kissed her forehead and picked through the bags Willow had given her, dumping most of them into the bowl she set on the floor. Most of the herbs, in combination, produced protective charms, not harmful ones. As much as it hurt to think Willow had a secret stash, Tara understood that she hadn’t meant any harm. And besides, she hadn’t used it.

“Repeat after me,” Tara said, and to Dawn, it was like she was being taught to speak in tongues. The chant rhymed, at least sort of, and there was a musical cadence to Tara’s recital that Dawn couldn’t mimic. The lines passed through Dawn’s head the moment she said them; she couldn’t imagine how Tara had memorized it.

Tara struck a match and handed it carefully to Dawn. “Drop it in the bowl,” she said.

The entire building shook when the walls went up. The atmosphere outside the window turned a hazy green, and every Hellion in Sunnydale turned to look at the glowing apartment complex. As Tara had expected, most of them understood what had been done, and they took it as a challenge.

Before she left the bedroom, Tara dropped pinches of herbs into a separate bag and held it over the flame in the bowl, making a feeble scapula that reeked of sulfur. It probably wouldn’t protect her, but it might give her a boost of luck.



When she came out of the bedroom, Giles explained that the phone was inoperable, and Tara closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and started muttering to herself. Xander and Anya thought she was swearing, until a tiny light leapt to life and zipped around in front of her.

“Go to LA and get help. Please,” Tara told it, and it flew through the wall.

“Um, Tara?” Willow almost flinched when Tara turned to her. “I got an ace bandage for your leg.”

Tara took the bandage from her, gently whispered, “Thank you,” and turned away. “Weapons?”

Xander pointed to the table.

“No knives, unless you know how to use them,” Tara said as she lowered herself into a chair and untied her shoe.

“That does leave some for us, then,” Giles said.

Tara picked up a knife in a sheath, tossed it lightly, and secured it to her leg with the ace bandage as she wrapped her ankle.

“I’m guessing you have a plan?” Xander asked her.



Faith was sleeping heavily, and it must have been the overhead light that made her dream so vivid. The green and white stripes on the wall of Buffy’s room were sharp, and there wasn’t a single wrinkle in the flowered bedspread.

“Finally got it all nice,” Buffy said, fluffing the last of the pillows. “No thanks to you.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “Righteous as always, B. Did they bury you with the stick up your ass, or did they yank it out and put it on display?”

She saw Buffy, out of the corner of her eye, stretched out on the bed in a long black dress. Her tombstone hung like a poster on the wall.

“What was that crap you fed me about Little Miss Muffet? 7-3-0?”

“Beats me,” Faith shrugged. “How’s the cat?”

Buffy grinned at her. “Thought she was supposed to take care of herself.”

The floor under them ground and groaned like a metal tower, and the light flickered. Faith spun to survey the room, and she struggled to keep her balance as it swayed.

“What was that?”

“London Bridge is falling down,” Buffy answered. “Think it would, if you were around?”

For a moment, the Slayers stared at each other, and Faith wasn’t sure if Buffy was teasing or threatening her.

“I belong here. It’s better for everyone,” she said.

“I have a place for you, little sis.”

The room shook again, throwing Faith against the wall, and the grinding of metal drowned out what Buffy said next. Faith turned away from her, checking the stability of the doorway; it was the only thing she remembered about earthquake safety. When she turned back to Buffy, the blonde Slayer was standing at the edge of a metal grating, looking over her shoulder while wind blew up from the chasm below.

“If someone doesn’t catch her,” she said, “she’s going to fall.” And then she jumped. Faith was blinded by a flash of light, and she rolled off her cot trying to shield herself.

The whirring seeker light zapped her on the nose, dashed through the cell door and into the hallway, and then returned, hitting Faith between the eyes. Faith swatted at it, and it dodged her. She tried to hit it with her shoe, and, missing, threw them both, and then her cellmate’s, at it. All four shoes sailed into the hall; one of them hit a bar on the cell across the hall and bent it slightly. The light spun around her head, then out and down the hall. It seemed to guide the guards to her.

“I need a phone call!” Faith shouted when the light struck her on the shoulder. One of the guards swatted at the light with his newspaper, and it burst into flames.

“Now!”

The light circled Faith’s head while the second guard unlocked the cell. Faith accepted the shackles the guards put on her, but she rushed to the phone faster then they would have liked.

The phone barely rang. “This is Angel.”

“There’s this… goddamn… demon… firefly… Get off me! Angel, what is this thing?”

Angel leapt out of his desk and tried to carry the landline out the door with him in his rush.

“Tara,” he growled. “Faith, I have to go.”

Faith panicked. “Who turned Tara into a firefly?”

“It’s a beacon. Tara’s in trouble,” Angel answered, ignoring the question of why Faith cared, or why the seeker light had come to her at all. He didn’t have time for that.

Faith persisted. “Since when?”

“I don’t know, Faith, and I don’t have time to talk about it!”

“So what you mean is, she could be dead by now?”

Angel paused. “I hope not,” he answered, and then he dropped the phone on the floor and ran to his car.

Faith heard the clatter, and when she pulled the phone away from her ear, the seeker light flew into it. She dropped the phone receiver and left it hanging.



“So, once the convoy is lined up, Xander and I will guide them out. Seems simple enough. How far do you plan to lead the Hellions, exactly?” Giles asked.

“As far as I can?” Tara said. “I um, I can’t go too far, because to get out of the building, I have to break the barrier. But I th-think they’re here already, or coming.”

Anya raised her hand. “Now, I knew that Hellions knew about magic, but how did you? It’s not exactly something I mentioned.”

“They called me a witch. And they’re mad at me. I figured if I um, if I sort of waved the ax around they’d follow me, and once they’re far enough away, the convoy heads out in the opposite direction. The road west was clear; they came from the s-south east, I think.”

Giles told her she was remarkable, and Xander clapped his hands together and reached for a table leg. Willow told them all to hold their horses.

“How do you get out?” she demanded, staring at Tara.

Tara shrugged. “The same way I get in. When Xander radios that everyone’s gone, I climb out and…”

“And what, run to the convoy? Run until they stop chasing you?”

“I-I could have a car somewhere. And Angel might be there by then.” That, she knew, was doubtful.

Willow continued to protest. “And what if you’re hurt? What if they find the car? You can’t do this on your own, Tara.”

Tara stood abruptly and jerked her head toward the apartment door. Willow followed her out. When the door closed, Tara turned on her.

“You do not get to tell me what I can and can’t do, Willow. What is your problem?”

“My problem,” Willow told her, “is that you’re not being practical! What if you get hurt? What if Angel can’t make it before dawn? You’re already hurt. If you don’t’ have help, Tara, you could die!”

“I die anyway!”

The shouted confession seemed to startle Tara as much as Willow. She crossed her arms over her chest, and her hair fell like a curtain around her down-turned face.

Willow took a step forward, but she stopped when Tara stepped away. “How do you know that? Tarot cards? Did you have a dream?”

“I just know,” Tara mumbled. She couldn’t bear to discuss the woman who had come to her with the one who was in front of her now. There was something precious in the time she’d had with the older woman that would be lost in the chasm between her and this girl. It was an intimacy she couldn’t stand to lose.

But Willow pressed her. “Tonight? Is it… Isn’t there something we could do? Prophesies change, right? Things change all the time.”

“I’m trying. I want to save the world, to help, I do,” Tara said, “but I’m trying to save my own damn life.” She looked up at Willow, slightly, and saw the coil of black magic move inside her. “Even if I can’t,” she continued, “you do not have to go down with me.”

Willow’s brow furrowed. “Are you saying there’s a part of this that’s about me?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tara snapped, then looked away again. “Of course there is. If… If someone is there to play getaway car, who could it be? We need Xander and Giles to protect the convoy, and Dawn won’t be strong enough. And Anya’s the only one who knows how to use that g-gun she’s got. I want her with Dawn; she can protect her. She can protect you, too, so you don’t have to.”

“But so could you!” Willow exclaimed. “Tara, come on. You really think I’d be safer, or any less likely to Hulk out, if I were in a car with Anya?”

Tara let out a small, breathy laugh, and Willow smiled.

“I’ll feel better if there’s something I can do to help. And I know you can keep me safe, and not even break a sweat doing it. Hey, by the end of the night I’ll owe you a third of my nine lives.”

Tara looked up suddenly and stared at her, then shook her head and rushed back into the apartment. If Willow were a Naissa warrior, she chastised herself, she would have known by now. And it would make her a lot more useful.

“When you talk to everyone,” she said, settling back into her chair and propping her ankle on the on across the table, “see if anyone could volunteer a truck? It’ll be safer for Willow in the cab, but I can get in the back fast if I have to.”

Willow, who was shutting the door behind her, froze.

Xander picked which confusing aspect of this statement he wanted to deal with first, then asked, “Wait, sorry. When ‘you’ talk to them? Who’s ‘you’?”

Tara grinned sheepishly and shook her head. “I-I can’t. I-it’s um. Well, time is kind of important, and it m-m-makes me n-n-n…”

“So let me get this straight,” Xander said. “You’re gearing up to fight a whole horde of demons, after killing two already, and you’re scared to talk about your plan to a group of people?”

“Fear of public speaking is more common than fear of death,” Anya said. “Once, I had a woman who wished her husband would have to give an address to the whole population of the area about all his philandering.”

“How did that work out?” Willow asked, circling to the far side of the table to resist putting her hand on the back of Tara’s chair.

“I made him the leader of the whole place,” Anya answered, beaming. “The wife was furious, so she assembled an army and started a ten-year-long civil war.”

“Right,” Giles cut in. “I think we should all go door to door now and gather everyone. I could use assistance in getting these details organized. We’ll need a driver and someone with a weapon in every car, and extra space to pick up people on the street, if possible. It will take a bit of time. Tara, I suggest you rest while you can.”

He shot her the barest of worried looks before picking up an armful of the makeshift weapons on the table and rushing out, and the others followed his lead.

Tara eased herself up from her chair and slipped into the bedroom to check on Dawn. She was lying on her back on the bed, with her feet on the ground, and her eyes were squeezed closed.

“You okay Dawnie?”

Outside, the walls shimmered. “Concentrating is hard,” Dawn muttered.

Chuckling, Tara lay down next to her. She slid her arm under Dawn’s neck and pulled her head onto her shoulder, cradling it there. The pulse of energy was familiar to her, like the one beam of light under a prison door. Such beautiful, bright green energy.

Tara settled as best she could, but with her eyes closed she could hear more easily. Whenever a demon struck the walls, they buzzed and throbbed. If she craned her head carefully, Tara could see the clock on the nightstand and read it upside down. An hour passed. Dawn twitched, but she didn’t make large movements; no one came back to the apartment; engines roared suddenly to life, then whirred away.

If the seeker light moved as fast as she suspected it could, Angel had had about an hour and a half to travel. He would need at least four more to make it to her.

Dawn stretched her leg and groaned. Tara hugged her close and rubbed her arm, and the repetitive motion was as close as she could get to comfort or rest.



The Hellions gathered around a bonfire in the center of Sunnydale.

“This town is ours!” the leader declared, and the demons cheered. Still, they followed his gaze to the green glow to the west. “How do we prove it?” the leader demanded.

Buildings were decimated, the streets blocked with wreckage, stores looted for alcohol and other human pleasures, and Willy, at the demon bar, had agreed to mix their drinks for life. The bonfire festival had begun with the destruction of the mechanical Slayer, whose parts lay sparking and muttering on the pavement. All these things were greeted with cheers and shouts.

“We have to prove it to the witch.”

The demons grew quiet. Their leader pointed west.

“She’s there. She thinks she’s ready for us. She thinks this is her town. Let’s prove her wrong.”



By the time Xander opened the bedroom door, three hours after he and the others had gone, Dawn was almost too drained to move. She whimpered when Tara tried to sit up, and she was dead weight on Tara’s shoulder.

“We’re ready,” Xander said, and he handed Tara a walkie-talkie. “Just waiting for the word.”

“And Willow?” Tara asked, standing and testing her ankle.

Xander jerked his head toward the door.

“Get Dawn settled.”

“We’ll call as soon as everyone’s out. You’ll run then, right?”

Tara nodded. “Make sure you’re at a safe distance, okay?”

“Okay.” Xander scooped Dawn into his arms, and Tara kissed her head and squeezed Xander’s arm before he left.

Willow was standing in the doorway to the apartment, shifting her weight from foot to foot and twisting her hand on the antenna of her own walkie-talkie.

“Listen to me,” Tara said, and Willow jumped. “You have to promise me you can hold it together. No magic, no heroics. You stay in the car, no matter what.”

Willow stared at Tara, and Glory loomed over her shoulder, reaching her hands up to take her away again, forever.

Tara barked her name, and Willow came back to the moment, to Tara standing tall and shaking, an axe in her hand, glaring at her.

“No matter what,” she said, and Tara nodded.

“I’m running north. I’ll give you my location when I’m set, but don’t follow me directly.” Tara looked away from her, then back again. “I um. I’m not completely sure what they’re going to do.”

Willow nodded, and Tara turned away. She heard the door shut when Willow left her, and she pulled the sliding door onto the balcony open. She shot fire, and it flared up across the wall.

The Hellions were already there, circling the building, and when they saw the fire, they gathered in the street below her. It was too dark to count them, but fire gleamed off over twenty motorcycles, and a dozen or more axes and knives.

“You want trouble?” she called to them, waving the axe she had stolen above their heads. “You got it.” She pressed the talk button on her walkie talkie and said, “Xander, tell Dawn to let go.”

“Commencing let go. Over.”

The walls fell like water, and Tara hoisted herself over the railing and out onto an air bridge over the demons’ heads. And then she ran. The bridge sank under her feet, and she dove for the roof of the closest building just before the Hellions reached the fire escape. She bolted across the roof, turning north, and charged across a bridge until it lowered her to the ladder on the side. The Hellions who weren’t stuck on the previous roof stood on each other’s shoulders, grabbing at her ankles while she climbed. She rabbited up and down in the air, giving the Hellions just enough hope of catching her that they refused to give up.

They tried to predict her path, and they drove their motorcycles into the alleys to try to cut her off. Tara cut one down when he met her on a rooftop, and she let one try to follow her before stranding him, too, on the roof she’d left behind.

Eleven rooftops north, Tara paused long enough to read a street sign, and she counted the storefronts.

“Willow,” she called on the walkie-talkie, “go one block past Carter Street and block off the space between the third and fourth buildings, on the far side. I-it doesn’t matter how you pull in, as long as it’s completely blocked. D-does that make sense?”

“I have a map, I’m almost there. Over.”

Tara almost laughed at the protocol, and she walked carefully across the wide street toward her target. At the roof of the third building, she dropped down below the lip of the building and waited. The Hellions were sticking together, and they’d lost her a block away, so they wouldn’t interfere with Willow.

Her ankle throbbed, and she wound the ace bandage more tightly, shifting the knife so it functioned better as a splint. When she tried to settle her back against the wall, the bottle of holy water in her jacket clinked against a stake. Tara pulled the bottle out and examined it, wondering for a moment if it was sacrilege to drink it before deciding she didn’t care. By the time she heard Willow’s truck swing around the corner, screeching its tires, she’d steadied her breath and drained the bottle.

Tara let herself descend into the narrow space between the third and fourth buildings, slowly enough that the Hellions saw her, and she turned as they gathered at the Carter Street entrance and started shoving each other to get in. It was the only way in, unless they wanted to climb over Willow’s truck, and that option didn’t seem to appeal to them as much as clawing at each other from the one narrow entrance, trying to get to her.

“One at a time!” the leader shouted. “Whoever kills her wears her bones like a crown.”

Willow had seen fist fights and magical battles, elaborate chases and final stands, but she had kept Tara out of as many of them as she could. Seeing a blonde girl throwing demons and whirling an ax was a strange distortion of reality, wherein, for a moment, Buffy was alive, and Tara was safe. But Tara turned, and her face was as still and focused as when she did magic, and nothing like Buffy’s. Willow had cracked the window of her truck, in case the walkie talkie got smashed and Tara needed her. But Tara wasn’t shouting quips, or making any kind of sound.

The Hellions poured into the alley one after another, so quickly that as soon as Tara had dealt with one, she had to dodge an onslaught from the next. She kept up, largely, by throwing them over and into each other, though a couple simply killed themselves when she held her ax across her chest. Their momentum was low because of the short distance they ran, but their weight was enough for Tara to tip them off balance. One of them fell on his own ax, and another cut the knee of the one behind him when he fell. At this pace, none of the demons had gotten hold of her, and her energy, boosted by magic, would last her a while as long as she didn’t have to engage more directly.

Some of the Hellions, she noticed with a flicker of interest, seemed to have female characteristics. One of those leapt at her, and Tara turned and rolled her over her shoulders. Now there was one on either side of her. Tara stepped back and grabbed their arms when they both swung from above her, pulling them down and hitting their heads together. When they staggered back, Tara shoved them down. She killed the one behind her while the other, and the one behind him, scrambled back to their feet.

Another Hellion charged her, and she sidestepped and slung him to the side, losing her grip before she could hit any other Hellion with him. The demon behind her grabbed her around her waist. Tara took a breath and shot flame over her shoulder as best she could; the demon dropped her and swatted at the fire on his face, and Tara ignored the pain on her ear where she had singed it.

Willow saw her in the second that she reached tenderly up to the injury. Tara had lost a little of her fluidity.

“Xander!” Willow demanded of the walkie talkie. “How long can this take? Over.”

“Seeing as there’s sixty-seven cars to move, a while. Over,” came the answer.

She sat gripping the steering wheel, switching back and forth between feeling that she couldn’t watch the fight and being unable to look away. At twenty-eight minutes and counting since the fight had begun, Tara began to lag. The kill count then was six. Eight, counting the two Tara had taken out saving her life. There were plenty more.

Tara began using more magic to make up for her slowing pace. She thought more and more about the kitchen knife at her ankle, that perhaps her defensive movements weren’t the best in this case. But then, her blade work was clumsy, and she was starting to need both hands to hold the ax.

She was shifting her weight when one Hellion shoved past the one in front, knocking him into Tara’s ankles. Tara stumbled and dodged the second Hellion; he swung his ax, and she raised hers above her head, unable to move far enough sideways to avoid the blade. It buried into the handle of her own weapon.

The Hellion used the weight behind his ax to slam Tara against the nearest wall, and he bore down on her. Every ounce of strength and magic Tara had went into holding him back. Other Hellions crowded the alley.

“Come on, Xander we can’t do this forever!” Willow yelled. A Hellion near her turned and growled.

Xander’s voice crackled back, “Fender bender. We’re trying to… Hey! Get back in the car! We don’t have time…”

He let up on the button, and Willow glanced back and forth between the clock in the car and Tara, whose legs were starting to shake. One minute. Two.

Tara felt a trickle of blood run down her lip, and all her power drained away. Willow couldn’t see the blood, but she could see the wild fear in Tara’s eyes before her arms gave and the Hellion threw her to the ground. Willow jumped up in her seat, but a Hellion blocked her view; he smashed the window and started yanking the door off.

When Tara tried to get to her feet, one Hellion kicked her in the side, and another stomped on her hand and kicked her ax away. She rolled into a ball to protect her head and tried desperately to reach the knife on her leg.

Willow saw the gleam of an ax raised, and she didn’t wonder where the light came from. She screamed. “Angel!”

Above the chaos, no one heard an arrow fly, but it buried into the eye of the Hellion with his ax raised. He stumbled backward, bumping into the Hellion who had hold of Willow’s wrist. Angel’s roar cut through the din and made the demons fall silent as he threw them into each other to reach Tara. She had drawn her knife, and she plunged it into the foot of the nearest Hellion before struggling to her knees and slashing clumsily.

Angel stood over her and shouted, “Enough!”

The Hellions stood still, and Tara dragged herself up to stand beside him.

“Party’s over, boys,” Angel snarled. “There’s a new Slayer in town.”

At this, the Hellions laughed. “The witch already told us that,” one of them sneered. “Why should we believe…” For a moment, she stood running her fingers along the arrow buried in the back of her neck, then she fell, followed by two others. The leader led the charge out of the alley, crawling to avoid arrows that had stopped coming, fighting to be first to the bikes to leave.

Tara slumped against the wall near her, and Willow ran to her.

“I’m okay,” Tara mumbled before Willow could reach out to touch her. She turned her face away, and through the spots in her vision, she thought she saw a cat-like figure turn and slink away.

Angel’s wrinkles didn’t fade when he turned to her. “Didn’t I tell you to avoid direct combat?” he said.

“Believe me, it wasn’t plan A.”

“Yes it was,” Willow mumbled, and Tara glared at her.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay in the car?” Tara dropped her knife and rubbed her face. “W-we need to tell Xander to pull the convoy over, bring everybody h-h-home.” When she examined her hand, it was smeared with blood.

“Hospital?” Angel suggested.

Tara nodded weakly. “Yes, please.”

“Is there anything I can get you now?” Willow offered.

“The arrow,” Tara said after a moment’s pause. “I want it.”

Willow yanked an arrow out of the closest Hellion, and Tara cradled it to her while Angel helped her toward the truck. He threw his coat over the seat so she wouldn’t sit on glass.



In the morning, Warren drove the Trio’s van carefully through wreckage. His house had been obliterated, along with nearly every piece of research he had given himself from the future. It would all have to be calculated over again, from scratch.

“I told you to make copies of it all, Andrew!”

“I’m slow with that stuff, okay!” Andrew shot back. “I’m a warlock, not a geek.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. The pages he was pulling apart were charred and smeared with ash. His hands were black, and full of splinters from the small chunks of whiteboard the group had tried to salvage.

“Anything left, Skippy?” Warren asked him.

“Not much.” He held up the largest chunk of whiteboard, which read: icks, chicks, chi.

Andrew sighed. “Chicks, chicks, chicks.”

“Well,” Warren said, “That is the most important part of our mission. Hey, wait.” He slammed on the brakes, scattering Jonathan’s papers and pitching Andrew, who wasn’t buckled in, onto the floor.

Warren jumped out of the van and ran across the abandoned lot, praying what he’d seen wasn’t a mirage caused by the heat of the still-burning bonfire.

The head of the Buffybot blinked when he came into her field of vision. “I know you,” she tried to say, but a spark jumped across her teeth and fried half of the wires that were still trying to function.

“The Slayer’s a robot?” Andrew said.

“No, I made this robot,” Warren said. “I thought it was weird, the way she acted. Didn’t you think it was weird?”

Jonathan shrugged. “Buffy was always kind of weird.”

“You don’t get it!” Warren shouted. “You don’t get it. There is no Slayer. This is all there is!” He bent down and frantically tried to gather all the pieces of the Buffybot, dropping some as he snatched up others.

“And this is ours.”


-------------------

Hello everyone! Thank you for your encouragement. I'm glad the story's flowing better; I can't wait to go back through and edit.

I also appreciate that people on this board do Aikido. I'm looking forward to continuing to do it myself, and I love the metaphorical power of the art as much as its practicality.

Enjoy the update!

Kay

Dibs!

more to add, when i'm less sleepy.

Edit:
So: good to see Tara kicking arse.
I am really hoping that she can get some reconciliation with Willow now, and get her on the path of right magic use.

Seems a bit weird that she'd go and learn a really defensive martial art and then go all axe crazy, but hey, needs must i guess.

And many congrats on the new and improved smoothness of the story.
seriuosuly, i still have no idea where that paper came from or what it was about (way back).
so yay you!

keep up the good work, i'm looking forward to seeing where we're going and curious as to who the new slayer is (Faith?)

R

_________________
“All I feel is sunlight. All I hear is music.” Willow
How i Met Your Mother - By Ariel

My Story: Coming Home

Time Heals All: a Willow/Tara fic with a terrible title

Author: Big_Pineapple

Feedback: Yes, including title suggestions, line edits, and general comments

Spoilers: vague reference to all seasons

Setting: Pre-season six and onward, AU.

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Copyright law. My girlfriend explained it to me once, but we were both falling asleep. Thank you, Mutant Enemy, for giving me Tara, but you jumped the shark.



Part XVIII: Who Are You?

Xander shook Dawn and Anya awake when he saw Tara thumping down the hall of the hospital in a medical boot, with Angel on her heels.

“Look who’s walking!” he said.

Tara grinned and ducked her head. “I really don’t think this thing is necessary.”

“You should be on crutches,” Angel scolded. Tara held up her heavily bandaged right hand, and he relented.

Xander stood and held his arms out, allowing Tara to fit herself into him in a comfortable way. Willow sat in her chair, envying him.

“So,” she said, “Doctor says you’re all patched up?”

Tara nodded. “Nothing big, really. The intravenous fluids were nice, though, for the headache? It’s a lot faster than drinking that much Gatorade. And I have some scrapes, which is a perfect excuse to get those really cute band-aids they have at the grocery store.”

“Oh, the Snoopy ones!” Dawn exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Tara’s and hugging it gently.

Tara did everything she could to reassure them all, and allowed Xander to drive her and Dawn home. The sun was up, so Angel told her he’d find her at home that night, and he sat with Willow. Giles had stayed with the convoy, making sure things settled down peacefully and safely. He would come to get them when he’d finished.

Until then, Willow shifted in the hospital chair, unable to sleep because of the adrenaline still pounding through her system. Angel was hungry and irritable. He answered Willow’s friendly questions quickly, without inviting conversation, and eventually she gave up on him and returned to the train of thought that had been haunting her for the past several weeks, rolling over the details of what had happened during those three strange incidents. She ended up with the same old questions and no answers, and by the time Giles came for them, she was hungry and irritable, too.



Xander whistled when he turned onto the street where the Summers house was. There didn’t seem to be a single window unbroken in all the houses, and there was still smoke wafting up from a few of the burnt and smashed doors. Debris had piled up in the street, and firemen and police dragged wood, roofing, and car parts toward the curb to clear a path for a sweeper to clean up the glass.

“No passage,” an officer called, approaching them. Xander pulled over and rolled down his window. “No passage,” the officer repeated.

“It’s okay,” Tara told him. “We live in that one.”

She pointed to the Summers house, which stood nearly untouched. An overturned car lay in the front yard, and the porch swing had half fallen down. The officer stared for a moment, then grunted.

“Could be smoke damage,” he said.

“The windows were closed.”

The officer sighed. “You can go in and get some clothes and personal items, but then you got to head out until the area’s clear. And no furniture or electronics. That stuff stays in the house. Understand?”

Tara nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir.”

Dawn helped her get out of the car. Once inside, she started dragging herself upstairs.

“You can stay at my place as long as you need to,” Xander told her. “And I can help you load stuff up in the car.”

Dawn snorted. “Like I care what he says? This is my house, and I’m staying here.”

Tara laughed. Xander looked alarmed.

“I’m not sure that’ll fly with them,” he spluttered. “Tara, back me up here.”

“Thank you for the ride,” she called down the stairs. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

By the time Xander processed what he was being told and followed her up the stairs, Tara had already slipped off the shoe on her not swollen foot and collapsed diagonally on the bed. When he asked her a question, she started to snore. Dawn crept in behind him, and they wriggled her coat off and arranged her so her leg was elevated. Dawn settled into her own bedroom, and Xander fell asleep on the couch. No one disturbed them until Angel came to say goodbye.



“I have nothing, Giles!” Willow exclaimed. Stevenson Hall had been closed for inspection for the past five days, and she had been staying with Giles again. After sweeping up the broken glass in the flat, they had gone back to flipping through the same pages in the same books about katras, conjuring, and time loops. Willow scanned the news daily for connections, something that might be a clue; nothing had happened except fire regulations and run-of-the-mill looting.

Giles handed her his book, and the newspaper clippings that he had been searching through. “Perhaps you’d like to take a break from that, take another look at our M’Fashnik problem? I’m afraid I haven’t made any headway. There’s no denying they’re intelligent, but they don’t have many material interests. However, they can be mercenaries. Perhaps you could look into, sudden bank deposits, large purchases made since the robbery.”

Willow shook her head. “You find out I can hack things, and suddenly, the idea of personal information is out the window.” She pulled the book Giles offered into her lap and sighed. Giles began muttering about cross-referencing texts, and Willow studied the grainy photographs from the newspaper describing the robbery. The article didn’t give many details; perhaps she could hack into the police files about the case. It wouldn’t be nearly as illegal as digging into personal finances, and also, it was a smaller pool of information to deal with. What did Giles expect her to do, check up on every resident of Sunnydale?

The information about the M’Fashnik case was familiar, and there wasn’t really much of it. It had started to feel like her mind was trapped in a loop: green Honda, yellow convertible, black van, white Jeep, green Honda, yellow convertible, black van, white Jeep. Black van. Black van.

Willow grabbed for a magnifying glass so quickly Giles spilled his tea. She crouched over the newspaper article and studied a vaguely car-shaped smudge in the corner. It was a black van, like the one she’d seen drive past her over and over again the day she was stuck in a loop at the Magic Box. And there had been a black van parked across the street from the Expresso Pump.

“They’re connected!” she shouted. “Whoever’s messing with me is the one who hired the M’Fashnik! They must have used the money on supplies.”

Giles examined the photograph under the magnifying glass and frowned. “They have a great deal more money than that.”

“They could be planning something else.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Giles grumbled.

Delighted at the breakthrough, Willow ran to retrieve her laptop. “I’ll check the DMV listings, find out who in Sunnydale owns a van like that. If there’s a name we recognize, we’ve got our guy, and if not, we can run a background check, see if anyone fits an evil, magic-y profile.”

“And what can I do?”

“Well,” Willow told him, “you might want to mop up the tea.”



Searching the DMV database had taken hours; Giles’s internet connection was slow, and everything had been spotty since the Hellions came. Willow could have made it faster. Twice, she had caught her hands moving toward her laptop, poised to dive in and pull what she needed out of it. But the page would load just then, just at the breaking point, and she would thank the goddess and move on.

The next morning, Willow stormed down the streets toward the robot guy’s house, letting the frustration of pent-up power propel her. Warren Mears. Something in her said she should have guessed it was he, the bastard. Another part of her enjoyed thinking the exact words, “I should have guessed it was he.”

Warren’s street was desolate. There wasn’t a single whole window, and several houses had charred, blackened holes where doors should have been. No one seemed to be moving inside the homes, or walking down the road, or tending the chrysanthemums that were blooming in the front yards, among the weeds and the violent tracks of motorcycle tires.

Ragged curtains hung in the front window of Warren’s house. They billowed in the autumn wind.
“Hello!” Willow called through the jagged hole. “Mrs. Mears? Warren?”

No one answered. She went around to the side of the house and picked her way through the remains of a door at the side, leading down to the basement.

“Warren?” she called, then entered.

The Hellions had been here. Fire had blackened the walls and ceiling, and the furniture seemed to have been smashed for kindling. Welding equipment, a microscope, and what looked like a child’s chemistry set were strewn across the room. There was fire extinguisher residue coating the broken legs of a rolling whiteboard, and ruined, unreadable papers covered the floor. Crouching down, Willow sifted through the papers and broken glass. She unearthed a casting stone and jumped up, turning to leave. On her way out, she saw a piece of cloth hanging from the glass teeth of the tiny shattered window; Warren must have left that way when the Hellions came in through the door. The sooty boot tracks on the stairs and the used fire extinguisher suggested he had come back, and taken anything of value with him.

Willow stood at the top of the stairs in the early morning sun, wishing she dared stay and search.

“You’re not looting, are you?” a gruff voice demanded, and Willow nearly jumped out of her skin. An old man stood in the yard next-door, glaring at her. “We’ve had a lot of looters around here.”

“Oh, no!” Willow assured him. I’m looking for someone, Warren Mears?”

The old man scrutinized her. “You his girlfriend?”

“No!” Willow said, a bit too loudly.

The old man nodded. “Good. He’s a troublemaker. He flies around in that black monstrosity of his, swinging around the corner, running down my flowers, and then he’s up making more noise than one man has any right, straight through dark till morning. No solid work, no results to be seen, no house or life of his own like a real man. Just those weird kids coming and going all the time, and troublemakers all of them. Into that Dungeons and Dragons foolishness.”

“What kind of weird kids?”

“Not the ones that caused this trouble. Noise and laying about, that’s all they’re into. Can’t speak a word of English, or don’t seem to.” Willow stared at him, and he cleared his throat and continued. “Tall blond boy, weirdo, and a Jewish midget. And delivery men, all kinds. Come to the wrong damn door half the time, get me out of what I’m doing. And look at all this mess, now!”

The old man gestured to the whole street, and Willow was lost. Warren didn’t have anything to do with this.

“You try to make something grow,” the old man grumbled. “Boys like Warren Mears, they just don’t even try. Don’t have the foresight. But it all comes to this in the end.”

Willow stood in the driveway, watching the old man tug on gardening gloves and crouch down to pick glass out of his yard. She could heal the burnt and broken plants, or bring the roses into bloom with a thought; she could bring rain or gather up the glass and debris in one sweeping gesture. Unsteady on her feet, she went into the old man’s yard and knelt beside him. She slipped out of her jacket and started picking up glass shards and dropping them into it. It was the only thing she wasn’t afraid to do.

When the old man stood and went inside, without a word to her, Willow dumped her jacket full of glass into the Mears’s garbage can and stood staring at the empty house as if a clue would appear at the window.

There could be a clue inside. An address book, maybe, with a list of Warren’s friends. “Tall blond boy” didn’t narrow her search much, and she didn’t know any Jewish midgets. Willow cursed herself for letting the old man leave without questioning him further.

The front door of the Mears’s house was unlocked, but Willow knocked as she opened it anyway, out of respect and old habits.

“Knock knock!” a voice behind her chirped, and Willow slammed the door shut, wondering how many times today someone was going to sneak up behind her.

“Buffy! Bot,” she gasped, and the robot beamed at her.

“Knock knock!”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Who’s there?”

“Stake!”

“Stake who?”

The Buffybot pulled a stake out of her jacket and held it up as if to strike Willow. “Stake you!”

Devastation washed over Willow when she looked at the vague smile and stiff pose; the robot couldn’t have pained her more by stabbing her in the heart. No one who had ever known Buffy would be fooled by this creature. It certainly didn’t fool her. Willow let out a shuddering sigh.

“Go home,” she told the robot, and it dropped its arm and marched toward the Summers house.

Tears were still threatening. Willow left the Mears’s house behind and rushed to the woods.



Something disturbed the leaves and scrambled away when Willow approached Buffy’s grave. Magic surrounded the place, kept out any person who wasn’t invited to the grave, but it didn’t keep out animals. Willow let the thought of deer pattering through the trees comfort her.

“Hey Buffy,” she said. “I uh, I ran into the Buffybot just now, and I thought, hey, haven’t been to visit the Buffster in a while! I thought you might like some company.” She nodded in the direction that the other presence had fled. “Guess you had some, though. Probably plenty, out here, with the squirrels and the raccoons and… Do we get possums out here? I don’t remember what their range is, or… Anyway.”

Willow examined the stones in her hand. She had picked them up from a house nearby with a shattered pebble sidewalk. Gently, she laid them on top of the headstone, then knelt down in front of it.

“No crystals. I haven’t been doing magic, so, no magical objects. Next time I’m here, I’ll bring you that geode I got from the museum. Remember, where we found the Inca mummy girl? And, they made a huge deal the next summer by bringing in this monster diamond to replace the mummy exhibit because, hello, slain mummy that used to kill people, not exactly something you want to show off, and then they had all these pretty rocks in the gift store, and Xander tried to juggle them, and we all got a piece of the one he broke. So yeah. Geode next time, and maybe a chunk of brick from my house, because there was a little damage around there. My folks were out of town, I think, or at least they didn’t call to say I could stay at home while the dorms are caput, so they probably don’t know what went on last week. Usually they just have the Levinsons down the street bring in the newspapers, and then they read them when they get… back.”

In an instant, Willow was on her feet, snarling, “Jonathan! That little weasel, I should have guessed it was he!” Admittedly, Jonathan Levinson was not a midget, but he would be when Willow cut him down to size. “Thanks, Buffy,” she said as she turned to hunt him down. In her hurry, she didn’t hear the tiny sounds of someone following her.



Tara held the arrow steady with her right arm and gently shaved the green and yellow fletching off with a knife in her left hand. Dawn watched her.

“Can I help?”

“Sure,” Tara told her. “Will you cut me a piece of that wire?”

Dawn picked up the roll of picture wire and unwound a piece of it. “Like this?” she asked, and when Tara nodded, she hacked at it with the kitchen scissors. “So, why are we making an arrow necklace?”

Tara held each fletching between her thumb and middle finger, using the pointer to separate the plastic feather fibers near the narrow end. “Because this arrow s-saved my life, and I want to keep it close to me. Here, wrap the wire around where it’s separated.”

Dawn did as Tara instructed, binding the fletching together in a group and leaving a small loop for the chain. Tara threaded a ball chain through, and Dawn stood to help her fasten it.

“Do you want me to wash the dishes? That chili pot’s gonna take some two-handed scrubbing.”

Tara smiled. “That would be sweet. Thank you.”

Dawn turned on the water and let it run over her hand until it was warm. “Why does this plate have leaves on it?”

“Oh, um,” Tara hesitated, then told her, “I put some leftovers out, for the w-wildlife? I thought there might be some homeless thing out there who could use the food.”

“You’re so cool,” Dawn said. Tara stood up and hugged her.

“Here, sweetie, use a coarser thing to scrub with,” she offered, and she began digging under the sink for a sponge.

“Where did the arrow come from?” Dawn asked when she stood up again.

Tara shrugged, and smiled when it didn’t hurt her to do it.

“Maybe it was Wesley,” Dawn suggested. “You said it happened right when Angel got there.”

“Maybe,” Tara agreed, but she wrapped her hand around the arrow fletching and hoped it was someone better than that.



The last thing Willow had heard was that Jonathan was still living with his parents, a few blocks down from where she had grown up. He was taking online classes, studying nothing in particular, and trying to stay out of trouble. He had made new friends, which Willow had thought would be good for him, but now she wasn’t so sure.

Her old street was closer to Xander’s neighborhood, at the outer limits of the Hellions’ destruction. There were no broken bricks at her house, but the stained glass window above the kitchen sink had been shattered; Willow slipped a pink shard from it into her jacket pocket for Buffy. It was impressive, she thought, that she’d handled glass all day barehanded and hadn’t cut herself yet.

Mr. Levinson hugged her as soon as he opened the door, then held her at arms’ length to squint at her face through his bifocals.

“Willow Rosenberg,” she told him. “Is Jonathan here?”

“Willow! Of course, he’s in the garage in the back. We cleaned it out for him and his friends; they’re working on special projects.”

“I bet,” Willow mumbled, and she followed Mr. Levinson through the house to the back yard.

The Trio was panicking in the garage.

“Battle stations!” Andrew announced when he saw Willow walk into the back yard, waving to Mr. Levinson.

None of them knew what battle stations were. Warren improvised, shoving Jonathan out the door and Andrew behind it, and turning off the lights.

Alone in the yard, Jonathan glared at the garage before greeting Willow.

“So, what have you been up to this summer, Jonathan?”

Memories of her interrogation tactics froze him in place. “Nothing involving guns,” he answered.

“Oh no,” Willow said. “You’re getting way more advanced than that. You and your tricky pals.”

“I-I’m alone in here.”

Willow blinked. “Your dad said you had friends over.”

“My dad can’t tell me from the pizza delivery guy.”

This confused Willow even more. “You get pizza delivered?”

“New place,” Jonathan lied. “Do you… want the number?”

Willow followed him inside to find a phone book, then waited until Jonathan became entrenched in a debate with his father about whether or not there was in fact a new pizza joint that delivered. She sprinted for the garage when Jonathan had his back turned, and flung open the door, hitting Andrew square in the nose. Jonathan came running behind and slammed into the back of her. They fell in a heap on the dark garage floor.

“Shut the door!” Warren ordered, and Andrew obeyed.

Willow was shouting and trying to wrestle away from Jonathan, who was clinging to her waist, pinning one arm down. Warren grabbed her free arm and clamped a hand over her mouth, and he dragged her across the floor to a chair.

“Stop humping her and get some rope!”

Jonathan let Willow go and tripped over a bucket in his search for a coil of rope.

“We should gag her,” Andrew suggested, dusting off a work glove he’d found in the dark. He brought the glove to Warren, and Willow, kicking blindly, hit him in the shin.

“Why do you have the lights off? I couldn’t see her coming!” he complained.

“Because we don’t want her to see our plans, idiot,” Jonathan told him.

Warren grabbed Willow’s free hand when she tried to scratch his arm, and he held them with one hand while stuffing the glove in her mouth with the other. He clapped a hand over her eyes and told Andrew to turn the lights back on.

Jonathan found rope and dove for Willow’s legs again. When he’d pinned them, he let Andrew tie them to the chair in one elaborate winding twist that wrapped up from her ankles to her thighs, tying them to the bottom of the chair, then around her torso. Warren lowered her arms, and Andrew wrapped them, too, before fiddling with the knot around her wrists.

“Let’s see, the bunny goes in the hole, and then into the tree, or… Wait…”

Warren groaned. “Just tie the knot, Elmer Fudd, and get me a blindfold. I don’t like having my hands this close to her teeth. She could spit that glove out any second.”

Jonathan produced a roll of duct tape and prevented that from happening. They got a bandana from Jonathan’s dad, explaining that Willow had seen a spider and run off, and now they needed a cloth to clean up the remains.

“Of the spider!” Jonathan clarified. “Not Willow. Willow has no remains, er. Thanks dad.”

His father couldn’t see the anxiety in his face.

“So what do we do with her now?” he asked, standing with Warren and Andrew in the garage.

They were watching Willow shuffle her feet and turn her head around, as if this would help her escape.

Warren shrugged. “We get rid of her.”

“How?”

“Get a meat fork, stab her in the jugular. It happens all the time.”

“What?” Andrew squeaked.

“There are other options,” Warren told him. “Conjure up a demon, let him take her somewhere and eat her. Drop her off in the woods somewhere, let the vampires find her.”

“Look, I signed up for taking over Sunnydale, but I never agreed to killing anyone,” Jonathan said.

Warren slapped the back of his head. “What do you think happens when you live a life of crime? If the Slayer’s gone, she’s the only thing in our way!”

“Um, this might be a bad time,” Andrew said, “but, won’t this stuff make her mad? I thought that was something we were supposed to avoid.”

“She’s not mad, she’s scared. And besides, she doesn’t use magic, so what’s her threat?”

“If she doesn’t use magic, she’s no threat to us!” Jonathan interjected.

Willow was listening, and trying to work the pocket of her jacket around to her hands. If she could reach the glass, she could saw the rope; with only one knot, she’d be free in an instant. Blind, but free. She could work with that. Thanks again, Buffy.

But her zipper was tangled in the rope, and she was losing circulation in her fingers.

“Magic! We could do magic!” Andrew said. “Make her forget she was here, or something.”

This punishment seemed less horrible than death, and fittingly ironic, so Willow gave up her struggling. It wasn’t getting her anything but rope burn, anyway.

She could snap the rope, burn it, or tie the three of them together with it. She could bring the glass from her pocket into her hands. But she sat still, waiting.

The Trio was arguing over which book to search through when the doorknob to the garage rattled.

“Dad?” Jonathan asked.

The door burst open, and the intruder stood in the doorway, backlit by the afternoon sun and unfamiliar to the boys.

Warren caught Andrew’s eye, then approached the door.

“Breaking and entering is a criminal offense,” he said.

“Sorry, thought it was a party. Guess I got the wrong address.”

“And who do you think you are?”

She grabbed the front if his shirt in one quick fluid movement.

“I think I’m the Slayer.”

She flung him at Andrew, who had been trying to sneak up behind her, then turned her gaze to Jonathan. He ducked under the worktable, and the Slayer picked Willow up in the chair and carried her away.

The duct tape ripped her skin raw, and her throat was dry from being unable to swallow. She wriggled out of the rope as soon as it came loose, then covered her eyes when the blindfold was removed and the sun lanced into them.

“You okay, Red?”

Willow blinked away the sunspots and glared at Faith.

“Come on,” the Slayer said, casting a glance back to the garage a few yards away. “I’ll walk you home before the three stooges can follow us.”

Willow was too busy spitting out grease and grit from the work glove to answer. She followed Faith down the street, past her house and towards town, until finally she could manage to respond.

“What are you doing here?”

“At the moment?” Faith shrugged. “Saving your ass.”

“You shouldn’t have said that,” Willow told her.

“Shouldn’t have said what?” Faith asked, scanning her surroundings and pulling on a large flannel shirt that hid her distinctive, muscular frame.

“You’re not the Slayer.”

Faith stopped in the middle of the street.

“Buffy’s the Slayer, not you.”

“Why was it I thought you’d thank me?” Faith asked, her back to Willow, her eyes to the crystal blue sky.

Willow muttered, “Thank you.” It sounded like a curse.

Faith rounded on her. “Look, what do you want, an apology? Fine. I’m sorry. I’ve been a really, really bad girl. But I’m here now, and I’m the Slayer just like Buffy was.”

“You’re not half the Slayer Buffy was,” Willow spat.

At first, Faith stared at her in silence, and then she shook her head. “You’re still not dealing, are you?”

Willow glared at her. Faith laughed.

“Admit it, Red. Your whole life is just Buffy Summers, Buffy Summers, Buffy Buffy Buffy. You could have gone anywhere, been anyone, but you’re still living in this vamp-infested hellhole because you couldn’t leave Buffy. God, do you even have a life without her?” Faith sidled up to Willow, arms crossed. “You can’t really explain to anyone, not even your precious girlfriend, what you and Buffy went through. And not because they wouldn’t believe you. Because they just couldn’t understand. And now she’s dead. Buffy Summers is gone, and she’s never coming back.”

Willow slapped Faith across the face as hard as she could; Faith didn’t even seem to feel it, but Willow cradled her hand and whimpered. Faith turned her back and started to walk away.

“Buffy’s gone,” Willow said.

It was barely a whisper. Faith paused and glanced over her shoulder.

“She’s really gone.”

Willow crumbled where she stood, and Faith had to drag her out of the street.



The sunlight made Faith nervous. She sat on the curb with Willow as long as she dared, then guided her to Giles’ flat.

“Look,” she said before she let her go, “don’t tell anyone I’m here, alright? I don’t want anybody getting in trouble trying to help me.”

“Or reporting you and getting you arrested,” Willow added, but she agreed not to discuss the issue, as long as no mysterious stabbings came up in the news. Faith gave her the finger and disappeared.

When the sun set, Faith set out to slay and scrounge around for food. She was slipping out of the Doublemeat Palace with someone else’s order when she ran into Amy.

“Hey! Wow, the last time I saw you, you were hitchhiking to Boston.”

Faith eyed her warily. “Last time I saw you, you were a rat.” She turned her back and started to walk away. Amy followed her.

“I was looking for you,” she said. “I can help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Oh. So if I called over that policeman on the corner, that wouldn’t be a problem?”

Faith dropped her stolen meal and bolted down the nearest alley. Amy materialized in front of her, laughing. She handed her the Doublemeat Palace bag.

“What do you want?” Faith asked her.

Amy smiled. “Nothing. I know someone, though, and he might have a request.”

“Sounds like a boy scout,” Faith said.

“Not as pure as your precious Tara, but…”

Faith grabbed her arm roughly. “What do you know about Tara?”

“Just what Rack tells me,” Amy answered. “That you want to see her, but you can’t.”

They stared at each other, and there was something in Amy that made Faith drop her arm.
“Rack. That his name?”

Amy nodded. “Follow me.”


---------------

Hello everyone. Recently, there has been an improvement in my writing; I credit this to my wonderful editor. She, however is away this week, so this passage was reviewed by my grandmother, who just watched "Band Candy" today. She did well, but I miss my editor.

My editor is also the one who gave me this beautiful insight into Willow. She tells me she's happy to have her ideas put into Faith's mouth.

Enjoy!
Kay

Haven't had a chance to review the last chapter either, due to out of town-ness, but I've got to say:

You've got the dialogue down pat. If definitely feels like something pulled out of the show.

Especially the Trio. You managed to hit that skin-crawling sensation I get every time they're concerned. the pervy little shits.

Willow and Tara, and the space between them is realistically heart-achey, and if it weren't for the fact that this was Pens, I'd have already succumbed to despair on their behalf.

Today also marks the day I did my, "Yay, Faith, yay!" dance.

_________________
"If I can't be a good example, might as well be a horrible warning."

"Friendship is obviously magic. Love is a sorta super strong friendship. We gay people love so hard we broke 'Social Norm'. Ergo, we gay people are ultra-strong wizards."

Time Heals All: a Willow/Tara fic with a terrible title

Author: Big_Pineapple

Feedback: Yes, including title suggestions, line edits, and general comments

Spoilers: vague reference to all seasons

Setting: Pre-season six and onward, AU.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Copyright law. My girlfriend explained it to me once, but we were both falling asleep. Thank you, Mutant Enemy, for giving me Tara, but you jumped the shark.


Trigger warnings: depression and anxiety, voyeurism



Part XIX: Revelations

The doctor who examined Tara’s hand told her it was safe to unwrap it, and to use it gently.

“Second time you’ve damaged it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

He shook his head. “You’re lucky you can still use it at all.”

That night, Tara felt lucky that, after ten days, she didn’t have to wrap her right hand in a plastic bag to take a shower. She ran her stiff fingers through her hair, scrubbing down into her scalp, and towel dried it for the sheer pleasure of being able to.

Dawn had written on the steamed-up mirror that she was in bed, but a chill from under her bedroom door made her pull her bathrobe tightly around her anyway. Rubbing her towel against the dripping ends of her tangled hair, she opened the door.

“Nice hair, T.”

Tara started, and Faith laughed. “Window was unlocked,” she said.

“I left it that way. I th-thought you might…”

Faith stood up from the windowsill and started to cross the room. Tara dropped her towel on the bed and met her in the middle. Both of them stood for a moment, aware of the fact that they had never touched and unsure how to do it now.

“Screw it,” Faith finally said, and she pulled Tara close by the hips and hugged her. It was decidedly strange, being that close to another person, and she hugged tighter and tighter until Tara finally gasped.

“Faith? Ribs, ribs.”

Faith jumped away, and Tara put a hand to her aching chest.

“They hurt you.” Faith wished she’d killed more of the Hellions than she had.

Tara nodded. “Bruised, not broken. I um, I had a scapular in my pocket, and, I-I don’t think it protected me, but it was good for padding.” She laughed a little and smiled, and Faith relaxed.

“Scapula, that’s like, a bone, right?”

“W-well, a scapula’s a bone, it’s here,” Tara said, reaching to put her hand on Faith’s shoulder blade. “But um, I was talking about a scapular. It’s a, a bag of protective charms. A-actually it’s, um, it’s a Catholic thing, but… witches make them, too. Which might be kind of Satanic.”

Faith grinned. “Kind of.”

“H-how did you get here so quickly?” Tara asked, and Faith shrugged.

“High speed car chase.”

Tara stared. Faith stepped around her and sat on the corner of the bed. “I let the driver go at the city limits, didn’t figure it’d be good for him to get mixed up in whatever was going down. Grabbed a bow from the closest hunting store, and followed the annoying mosquito Christmas light to you.”

“Oh.” Tara looked concerned. Maybe afraid. Faith wasn’t entirely sure.

“It’s all taken care of, though,” Faith tried to reassure her. “I met this girl I used to know, she set me up with a spell. Everything the police ever had on me got wiped.”

“Oh.”

Again with the oh. Faith tried again. “I didn’t let him wipe the people I…” Care about, Faith thought, but she changed her words. “The people who knew me. So, you know, if anything goes down, you can still turn me in. I mean, all the evidence is there. It’s just cold cases now.”

“Oh. I um, I thought you said it was a girl, who did the spell?”

Faith explained, and Tara tried to listen, but the only thing she could think was that if any of the Scoobies found out Faith was here, they could lock her away again. Tara couldn’t imagine hiding her forever; in her leather pants, tight shirt, and denim jacket, Faith was hard to miss. Also quite different from the girl in the prison jumpsuit. And then, she needed Faith to trust her, which would be hard if she lied to her friends, or if Faith thought she was ashamed of her. She had to be honest, and soon. Didn’t she?

Tara wrapped her hand around the arrow necklace, and Faith said something she didn’t hear. She relived the final moment of her fight in the alley, the moment where Faith was the difference between her life and death, and she knew she couldn’t risk losing the Slayer.

The Scoobies hadn’t seemed too keen on talking to Faith the last time she’d appeared, and they had no reason to take Tara’s word that she had changed. As for Faith, she hadn’t asked Tara about the Scoobies while she was in jail. She didn’t seem interested in them at all, and until she started asking questions, there was no reason to tell Faith that no one knew about her presence. She could get around to that once she knew how to handle the others. It needed to be dealt with, but carefully. She needed time to think it through.

For now, she let the security of having Faith with her eclipse her anxiety. Revelations could wait.



Two days later, Tara was surprised to be invited to a Scoobie meeting at the Magic Box. Faith had shown no interest in seeing her old friends, but Tara kept an eye on the door, afraid that she would appear. Instead, a sprightly delivery girl trooped in with sacks full of Chinese food.

“Okay,” Xander said, sorting through the bags. “We pretty much ordered one of everything, because Anya’s never witnessed delivery before. So, just grab a carton and pick through it, see what you get.”

Tara eyed the food, wondering if she could take some home for Faith without being questioned. Xander opened a carton and offered it to her.

“You gonna eat, or look at it?” he teased. “We got shrimp fried…”

Willow pulled the carton out of his hand and replaced it with another. Xander examined the contents, then offered it again.

“Beef lo mien.”

Tara smiled at the floor and accepted the food. Willow turned away with a twinge of disappointment, that Tara wouldn’t meet her eye.

“Right then. General updates?” Giles asked.

Xander raised his hand. “The Buffybot showed up! Seems to be in working order, parts in all the right places, and no clue where she was when the Hellions were swarming the downtown area.”

“I um, I think she got lost,” Tara added.

“She’d be more useful if we sold her for parts,” Anya said. “Also, is this pork or beef?” She pulled a chunk of meat out of her Chinese take-out container, and Xander inspected it, then ate it off her chopsticks. Pork, he decided, and Giles cleaned his glasses while Xander pretended she could taste the difference if she kissed him hard enough.

“On to the good part?” Willow asked, and when Giles nodded, she announced, “Jonathan, Warren and Andrew are trying to take over Sunnydale.”

“Who’s Andrew?”

“Tucker’s brother. They’re hiding out in the Levinson garage. First lair got hit pretty hard by the Hellions, so I’m guessing they’re behind schedule when it comes to evil schemes, but there were enough smoldering remains of plans in Warren’s basement to keep us hopping for months. Giles?”

“As someone who does not know Mr. Levinson, I attempted to gather information from him. Willow supplied a rumor that there was a new delivery restaurant, and I pretended to have seen such a delivery take place. From there, I asked if there had been any other recent deliveries. The only people who still come door to door, it seems, are this Chinese establishment, and a cadre of missionaries.”

“Mrs. Levinson likes to debate,” Willow explained. “She calls all the local churches and puts their missionaries through the ringer for fun.”

The group absorbed this odd revelation, then Xander clapped his hands together. “So, no deliveries! And this means what?”

“Well, it implies that they aren’t currently having new supplies shipped to them. Either they have everything they need, or they’re at a bit of standstill.”

“Any guess what the next plan might be?”

Both Willow and Giles shook their head.

“But we got Chinese food out of it!” Dawn said.

“Is this all we have to talk about?” Anya asked. “I’m bored.”

Willow and Tara both thought of Faith.

“Any ID on the archer?” Tara asked, feeling around for any clues the group might have that would put her Slayer at risk.

Turning to look at her, Willow noticed the necklace she wore, and wondered. Faith had used a longbow before. Maybe Angel had released her, to help him protect Tara? But then, he wouldn’t have left her here. Could Tara have sought her out in L.A.? Why would she even think to do that?

It never crossed Willow’s mind that she could eavesdrop on Tara’s thoughts and know the answer.



“When Nerds Attack, huh?” Faith snickered that night. She spilled rice on the island in the kitchen and cussed, then threw her chopsticks into the sink. Tara swept up the rice and handed Faith a fork.

“Are you still okay with this? I mean, fighting demons is different than…”

Faith cut her off. “I already fought ‘em. I mean, I threw one of them. Not hard, just. They had Willow.”

“Oh.”

“What does that mean?” Faith growled, and Tara flinched.

“Dawn’s asleep!” she hissed.

For a moment, they both sat still, listening for footsteps on the stairs. Nothing moved.

Tara exhaled and sat on the stool next to Faith. “It just means I don’t know what to say. Or, think. But I um, I don’t want to push.”

“Push me, or yourself?”

When Tara didn’t answer, Faith shrugged. “When are you gonna be good to go out with me?”

“Out where?”

“On patrol. You’ll back me up, right?” Faith said.

Tara smiled. “Of course. I think a good ankle is like, my birthday present? So… A week?”

“A week?” Faith said around a mouthful of shrimp. “We gotta make plans, girlfriend.”



“Last year I had this whole plan!” Willow complained. “I had the surprise party, and then we had the whole demon thing, and then there was the… stuff I’m not going to tell you about. It was great, it was sweet, and I knew where I stood. Now, half the time she won’t even look at me!”

Xander shifted on the couch. “I don’t know Wil. What do you want to do?”

“Hold her, kiss her, beg her to forgive me. Come up with some reason that she ever should forgive me.” Willow covered her face with her hands and groaned. “It’s her birthday. I have to come up with something.”

“So far, though, no good ideas.”

Willow rolled her head to the side and glared at Xander.

“Okay, I’m supportive,” he said. “But listen, Wil, it kind of bugs me that you’re so strung out about this. I mean, this whole no magic thing, the thing where sometimes you actually seem like Willow again, is that all just for Tara? Or do you get something out of it?”

“If I play my cards right, I get Tara.”

Xander sighed. “See, that’s the problem. If you go at it like that, you’ll do the same things to her that…”

“I would never!”

“There’s more than one way to control someone.” Xander put a hand on her knee. “If she’s the only thing you’re living for, that’s two whole lives she’s responsible for, and not much of a life for you.”

Willow shook her head. “She’s my everything. I don’t want to hurt her.”

“But you did. Because you have to have her.”

Willow pulled her knees to her chest as if that would protect her from the truth of this. Xander watched his words sink in, debating whether or not to push forward.

“What am I gonna do?”

“I don’t want to freak you, but, honestly, you’re freaking me out, and I’m wondering… When was the last time you saw a doctor?”

Willow didn’t move, but her brow crinkled.

“See, at work, we have to get regular physicals, and since I’d been hospitalized so many times over the years, people started asking questions, and well,” Xander hesitated. “They have these neat little tests, and they check for things. Uh, PTSD, anxiety, depression…”

“You think there’s something wrong with me?” she squeaked, looking up at him with panic in her eyes. “Oh god! What if I’m going crazy and they have to lock me away because I might, like, have a breakdown and bite someone or run around the city naked, and then I’ll never see Tara or graduate or get a job or check my email ever again!”

Xander stared at her wide-eyed for a moment before muttering, “Mother of god.”

“And I’ll never figure out what to do about Tara’s birthday.”

When Xander threw up his hands and started to get up, she grabbed his sleeve.

“I’m kidding, I’m listening gal, here.”

He explained that there were meds for that, and biting people wasn’t generally a symptom of depression. By the end of the conversation, he had almost made her laugh.



Tara’s hands started to sweat when she and Dawn turned the corner onto Xander’s street. She swallowed hard and focused on the core of the earth, letting the energy of it seep up from the sidewalk and into her feet, relaxing her. This had happened before, on the nights when she stayed out late came to an end, and she would have to go home. Home had made her feel this way, like she had suddenly spiked a fever, and the smallest thing would make her lash out: Donny leaving his boots in the hall, an unwashed dish in the sink, sour milk in the fridge, all of which felt hostile. Or, when her family had come for her, Willow trying to coax her to a Scooby meeting, which felt coercive. Now that she knew it wasn’t the demon in her, she treated herself more gently. Re-focusing helped.

“It’s been over two weeks,” Tara reminded herself. “The injuries are healed. It’s time to deal.”

Dawn held her hand, and Tara smiled at her.

By the time they reached the apartment, the smell of food wafting from inside didn’t make Tara ill, and Anya’s random and raucous version of “Happy Birthday,” which began the moment she came through the door, delighted her. She stock-piled the happy memory as a weapon against the fear.

“We cooked everything without shrimp!” Anya said, pulling off her apron. Tara smirked at the thing, which had grease, ketchup, and cake batter smeared on it in thick streaks.

“Even the frosting,” Xander added. “I can’t imagine how she did it, that clever lady.”

Anya cleared her throat, and Xander stood up and said, “Allow me to take your coats, ladies.” He slipped the coats off their arms like a gentleman, then dropped them in a heap on the couch.

“Excuse our coat closet, it’s kind of non-existent.”

Tara smiled and purposely settled herself in the chair she had used when the Hellions had come.

Dr. Song, the cognitive therapist at UC Sunnydale, had spent hours with Tara during the three weeks before her freshman year. She probed Tara about meditation techniques, and gave her visualization tapes so dull and soothing they put Tara to sleep, and did strange breathing exercises. Mostly though, she would make Tara tell her the same stories over and over again, about her mother’s death; the money that had allowed her to buy the cake van; the distance she had travelled in it from West Virginia to Sunnydale, and how she had lived on the streets for so long. Over time, the tale got boring, and Tara furnished it with gradually more painful details just to make the therapy sessions stimulating. Dr. Song dragged out memories about what life had been like before her mother’s death, and after. When she hit a wall, Dr. Song held up her hand, and told Tara to track the movement with her eyes while she told the story, from the beginning, one more time.

Tara hadn’t realized this was treatment. She had thought the woman simply had a bad memory, or that she didn’t care. But Dr. Song had changed her.

“How’s the leg?” Xander asked, sitting across from her.

“I made it here on it,” Tara told him.

Anya gleefully handed her a plate of meat loaf, steamed broccoli, and the gluiest mashed potatoes Tara had ever seen. She scraped her plate clean, not letting herself taste it fully, and ignored the faint burning in the back of her throat. When Dawn started to make comments, she nudged her with her foot.

“Wow, you must be starving!” Anya said when Tara finished, long before Xander and Dawn, who were struggling through. “Here, I’ll get you some more!”

Dawn nearly choked on potato.

“You get half,” Tara whispered in her ear. She glanced at the bedroom door, forcing herself to review the details of Dawn’s face that night as she had focused on the protection spell, to imagine the smell, the temperature of the room, the exact shade of green pouring through the windows. She tried to keep control of the memory, the way Dr. Song had. Her hands were so slick with sweat she dropped her fork, and the smear of ketchup on the carpet looked like blood.

“A-anyone mind if I get some air?” she asked, and she strode across the apartment and out onto the balcony.

The mid-October air was crisp and cold. Tara shoved aside thoughts of getting her coat. Most of the damage done by the Hellions had been cleared away, and the night was bright. Streetlights bathed the roads and flashed across the tops of cars, passing safely below her. They needed no guide, and no diversion. A dark-haired girl in a leather jacket prowled the street, and Tara wanted to call out to her, but she passed the building and was gone.

“Focus,” Tara whispered, and she stared down into the street below.

She stood until she started to shiver, and Xander came outside to get her.

“Wine?” he offered. “We gave Dawn grape juice.”

Tara shook herself. “I-I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s the first time you’ve been back.”

He held the glass out to her, and she took it. Wine wasn’t something she usually drank, but the heat in her throat when she swallowed was a welcome sensation.

“They were here,” Tara said, pointing, and following her hand with her eyes as it moved. “I crossed the street and led them that way, took a left there, at that traffic signal?” A glance at Xander showed he was watching her finger closely. “Stopped at Carter, up there. I um, I th-think it was the shoe repair and the antique store.”

Tara dropped her hand and put all her weight on her elbows, resting on the balcony rail. Xander leaned next to her.

“I really don’t get you,” he said. Tara laughed.

“Is it really that hard?”

Xander stared out across the neighborhood, then turned and tilted his glass toward her.

“Happy birthday, Tara.”

They toasted, and Tara drained her glass and followed Xander inside.



By the time Anya managed to get all twenty-one candles on the cake lit, the first ones had melted nearly to the base. Tara blew until she was lightheaded, and small bits of wax splattered on the table. Dawn pulled the smoking candles out of the cake and licked them all.

No one could explain to Tara why the cake had turned bright orange. It tasted better than the mashed potatoes, and only Xander got a big lump of flour in his piece.

“Presents now!” Dawn cheered when the table was cleared, and the second glasses of wine and juice were poured. She pulled a package out from under her chair.

“Here, open the card,” Anya said. “It’s both traditional and comedic!”

Halfway through, Tara stopped reading aloud and hid the card where Dawn couldn’t see it. She took Dawn’s gift and unwrapped it gently. Blue silk slipped out of the box the moment she opened it, and she gasped at the sight.

“I’m pretty sure it’s your size,” Dawn said. “I checked your other dresses.”

The dress was full-length, with a row of mother of pearl buttons held the front down to the waist. Elegant pleats, smooth cuts, and flowing sleeves, all the finest, coolest silk Tara had touched in years. And, hanging from the tag in the back, a plastic anti-theft clip.

“Oh!” Dawn gasped. “The girl who checked me out was new, she must have forgotten to take that stupid thing out. Not checking me out like hey babe, like, scanning… my stuff.”

Tara couldn’t help but feel suspicious.

“We should get these things in the Magic Box,” Anya said. “Valuable items have been disappearing from the inventory.”

Tara looked concerned. “Dangerous things?”

Anya shook her head. “Just random things. It’s probably the old people; they never spend money in the store.”

Tara glanced at Dawn, trying to read her face, then she shook off the foreboding and magically unclasped the plastic tag.



Faith could hear the two of them coming down the street, Dawn’s high voice ringing clear, and Tara’s response a ripple in the quiet of the night.

“But that wasn’t a real party, it was just an adult party. And I’m hungry. They have flowering onions at the Bronze!”

“And we have left-over pasta at home, which you can eat in the fifteen minutes before you go to bed.”

“But it’s a party night!”

Tara laughed. “No, it’s a school night. I’m not writing you a note for dancing till you drop.”

When they went inside, Faith walked down the street and waited on the porch until the light in Dawn’s room went out. Visiting Tara was like having an illicit affair, only with less intrigue. Faith assumed the others hadn’t wanted to see her, and she didn’t blame them. Tara didn’t bring it up, probably to protect her feelings, and she resisted the urge to ask Tara questions because, when she thought about it, she didn’t want to know what they had said about her. Time with Tara was happy time, and she didn’t want to drag unpleasant topics into the room. No thoughts of Willow, or Buffy, or the blood on her hands. She was living a new life, and no one needed to be in it but Tara.



Tara’s window was open. She was buttoning the blue silk dress when Faith slipped inside.

“Nice duds, Blondie.”

“It’s beautiful,” Tara murmured, running her fingers across her own collarbone and onto the shoulder of the dress.

“Put it on for a party at the Bronze?” Faith teased. “’Cause that sounds like a plan to me.”

“Not tonight,” Tara sighed. She asked about patrol, and Faith shrugged.

“Saving my strength for you, girlfriend. Whatever you want to do.”

“I want to sleep.”

Faith shook Tara’s shoulder. “Oh come on, we gotta do something!”

“I told you I’m tired!” Tara snapped, then flinched. “I-I’m sorry. I um, I think I’ve been holding that in. L-long day.”

“Sure you don’t need to cut loose?” Faith probed, bracing herself for another attack.

Tara smiled weakly. “You don’t give up, do you?”



Willow didn’t drink her martini; she used it as a bath for olives. After her fourth request for another olive, the bartender at the Bronze just handed her a whole jar.

“Yes, this is what I buy instead of birthday presents and Halloween costumes: gin-soaked green olives, skewered like vampires on little wooden toothpicks. Not even the neat plastic ones shaped like swords, or flamingoes,” Willow complained to herself. “Just plain old toothpicks. But go on, drink up Rosenberg, alcohol doesn’t mix with the spanking new happy pills you start taking tomorrow!”

Talking to herself was probably not the best way to convince herself that she was not, in fact, going crazy, but tonight she decided it didn’t matter, because the band was loud, and she couldn’t really hear herself think unless she talked herself through the process. Over the din, though, she heard a familiar laughter, and for a moment, she thought she was hearing things. She stared at her soaking olive in alarm, trying to triangulate the direction of the sound. When she turned, her eyes found their mark instantly.

Tara’s smile was bright, even in the dim light of the dance floor. She was trying to escape her dance partner, who was tickling her and shouting something that might have been, “Loosen up.” When she dashed past the woman, toward the tables and the bar, she was snared around the waist by powerful arms, and Willow saw the woman’s face just as Tara yelled her name, laughing in delight.

Faith.

Faith was grappling playfully with Tara on the dance floor of the Bronze, and when one song slipped into another, with a gentler beat, Faith turned Tara around, pulled their hips close together, and swayed them side to side. There was a look in Tara’s eyes of sheer adoration. For Faith. Willow couldn’t look away from them.

Under the music, she muttered, “Aw, this is like a nightmare.”



Faith managed to convince Tara that there was a shortcut home through a cemetery, and the two of them reached the Summers house covered in dust.

“Don’t look at me like that, how can you have the dancing and the late nights and the nice air and not get in a good slay?”

Tara should have said goodbye at the door, but she let Faith inside with her, chuckling.

Faith headed for the kitchen. “Something about slaying just makes me hungry and horny. Do you get that?”

“I have something that can fix the hungry, at least,” Tara said, and she cut Faith a slice of chocolate cake.

She watched Faith’s face light up when she took the first bite, and then laughed when she dropped her head back and moaned.

“I think you fixed it all, T.”

Tara kissed her cheek. Her feet and back ached, so she settled onto the couch to wait until Faith finished eating. Faith sat next to her and turned the television on. She turned the volume down low and flipped through the channels until she found an old black and white movie, then leaned over and started whispering improvised dialogue. Tara stifled her laughter and shoved Faith’s shoulder. Faith pulled her into a headlock, and Tara fought to escape until she felt like she couldn’t move anymore. She relaxed and let her head rest on Faith’s shoulder, and Faith loosened her grip.

When Faith leaned forward to set her empty plate on the coffee table, Tara’s head lolled. Faith stared at her for a moment, uncertain whether to wake her now, or let her fall into a deeper sleep and carry her to bed later. She drifted off trying to decide.



“Game on!” Warren cheered, and the Trio gathered around to watch Willow stumble around her room, tipsy, and strip.

“She needs to get a girlfriend,” Jonathan said.

“She needs to sleep naked,” Andrew added. “The show’s too short when she puts pajamas on.”

Warren rolled his eyes. “It’s too cold to sleep naked, you idiot. And we can’t spend the whole night watching her sleep when we need to be checking security cams for the Slayer.”

“Besides, watching her sleep would be creepy. Unlike everything else about you.”

The Trio froze at the sound of the female voice.

“Got the garage all nice and cozy, got the cameras on twenty-four seven, got all this money. But have you actually done anything resembling taking over Sunnydale?”

Like children in trouble, the three boys turned around to face their third invasion. Amy was sitting on the futon, flicking through pages of notes.

“You seem to have a problem with Willow Rosenberg,” she said. “All those spells, all that effort, just to scare her? That sounds like fun.” Amy leaned forward, grinning, and looked each of them in the eye. “So what do you say? Is this a boys only club, or can I join?”



“Tara. Tara, wake up!”

“Willow?” Tara mumbled, lifting her head and blinking in the morning light. Her eyes began to focus, and she squinted to help them. “Faith.”

“What’s going on?”

Alert and in a sudden panic, Tara stood up and turned. Dawn was staring at them from the bottom of the stairs. Her expression darkened from confusion to rage, and Tara braced herself for some kind of scream. But Dawn was silent. She tensed, from her shoulders down, then sprang, grabbing her coat and bolting out the door. Tara dashed to stop her, but Faith grabbed her wrist.

“Let her go,” she said.

Tara tried to get loose, but Faith tightened her grip. “She can’t go out there alone! I can’t just leave her like that.”

“Just, let her go.”

When Tara stopped fighting, Faith released her wrist and walked the length of the living room.

“Buffybot!” Tara called, and the robot marched down the stairs. “Make sure Dawn gets to school on time, and keep her safe until she does.”

The Buffybot agreed and cheerfully raced down the street after Dawn.

“Did she even know I was here?”

Tara was staring out the window, and she did not turn to look at Faith. “No one does. I just… You said they could turn you in. I didn’t know how to keep you safe. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not that big a thing, T. I mean, it’s a threat, but I’m not sure they could actually pin anything on me, not after all this time. I just wanted you to know you had an out.”

“I don’t need an out. I need you.”

Faith sighed. “I’m not going anywhere. But this mess is just gonna get bigger now.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I really can’t believe you didn’t tell her. How did you expect to get away with that?”

Faith was at sea, trying to decide if Tara could trust her and hide her at the same time, or if she should trust Tara. She was using her. Faith was Tara’s bodyguard, not her friend.

“I-I didn’t, get away with…” Tara crossed her arms tightly across her stomach and looked tentatively toward Faith. “I thought I’d figure out a way to tell her without putting you at risk.”

“I can take care of myself,” Faith growled, pushing against the protection Tara was offering. Plenty of people had said the same things to her.

“I’m sorry. I th-th-th…”

Faith rolled her eyes, “You th-th-th what? Spit it out.”

Tara tried to shake off the jab, because she deserved it. “I wasn’t sure what I should do.”

“So you just didn’t do anything?”

Tara broke down, and Faith hated herself for caring. “I’m sorry.”

“I know that!” Faith yelled. Tara flinched, and Faith winced. “I know that,” she murmured. “But what are we going to do now?”

“I-I, I don’t know.”

Faith sank down on the couch. What she needed, more than anything, was Buffy. Buffy was the planner, the goody two-shoes who knew how to smooth things over. Tara sobbed, and Faith decided to screw planning and deal with what she had. Buffy came through in a rush of tenderness.

“Hey,” she said, and Tara raised her eyes, but not her head, to look at her. Faith opened her arms. “Come here.”

Tara obeyed, and Faith pulled her into her lap, wrapping her entirely in her arms. She kissed her head and stroked her hair until Tara stopped murmuring apologies and started to breath regularly. Faith hugged her closer.

“You and me, T,” she promised, “we’re gonna be okay.”


---------------

Hello everyone.

This chapter's a bit behind schedule, because I had a hard time getting it down. I look forward to all the feedback I can get.

Thanks for reading. Happy Thursday.

Kay

Faith and Tara's bromance comes off as endearing, but not all puppies and lollipops. It's rife with rather realistic interactions and problems, and that is something that I've really come to appreciate in this story.

The Trio never ceases to skeeve me out, and the inclusion of Amy spells some bad news soon, I'm betting.

Willow's dismay at seeing Faith and Tara would be a bit sad, if I wasn't chuckling so hard at the time. I want her girls to be happy together, but there's a sense of satisfaction at seeing her suffer, especially after the things she's done. She got off way to easy in canon, in my opinion. Still, the Trio perving on her makes my skin crawl.

_________________
"If I can't be a good example, might as well be a horrible warning."

"Friendship is obviously magic. Love is a sorta super strong friendship. We gay people love so hard we broke 'Social Norm'. Ergo, we gay people are ultra-strong wizards."

Time Heals All: a Willow/Tara fic with a terrible title

Author: Big_Pineapple

Feedback: Yes, including title suggestions, line edits, and general comments

Spoilers: vague reference to all seasons

Setting: Pre-season six and onward, AU.

Rating: PG-13ish



Part XX: All the Way

“She forgot her backpack,” Andrew said when Dawn ran past the hidden camera empty-handed.

“Does your plan to rule Sunnydale include backpacks for every child?” Amy asked.

Warren rolled his eyes. “It’s a reign of terror, not a philanthropist utopia. Keep your eye on the ball. Why hasn’t the Slayer come out yet?”

“And why did she go in?” Jonathan added.

“Because Faith and Tara are friends,” Amy explained. “I don’t know what happens with Faith if you go after Tara, but it might be worth finding out.”

“Look,” Warren snarled. “We don’t need you to concoct our plans for us, we know how to take over a city!”

His mind was in overdrive, trying to find a way to get to Tara without leaving a paper trail.

“We could make the Buffybot get it,” Andrew suggested.

“What?”

“The backpack. We need to see if she works, right?”

Andrew grabbed a microphone, and ordered the robot to turn around and get Dawn’s backpack from the house. The Trio and Amy watched the camera feed from the Summers house, and saw the Buffybot walk in the front door.

“She was done with whatever Tara told her to do and went home,” Jonathan grumbled when the robot was gone for more than a few minutes. But then, she trotted out again, carrying a backpack and a brown paper sack.





The Buffybot found Dawn screaming and kicking the dead leaves around Buffy’s grave. Her anger was unfocused and wild, spanning the past three years of Faith’s sins, and Tara’s sudden deceit. She had lied about thinking she was a demon; were there other things she wasn’t telling anyone? Dawn had trusted her completely, even when Tara had disappeared for hours a day in Los Angeles. She had wanted to be supportive of whatever it was Tara needed to do. But she hadn’t expected she was doing this.

Once, Dawn had woken up in the middle of the night and opened the door to Tara’s bedroom. She found a note on the empty bed, saying that she was patrolling Westmond, Riche, and the Holy Grail cemeteries, and she would be back before morning. When she returned, Tara had slipped into Dawn’s bedroom and kissed her forehead before going back to her own room. Dawn had thought she was brave, to go out into the night alone. But she hadn’t been alone.

“Tara made lunch!” the Buffybot chirped. “She says you need to go to school now.”

Dawn screeched and stomped her foot on the ground beside the headstone, and a crossbow fired, narrowly missing a squirrel in the woods. Concentrating was a struggle, but she was afraid to touch the ground with her hands, so she lifted the leaves with her mind the way Tara had taught her. She stopped when she uncovered a quiver of arrows with bright green fletching.

Willow had told the story of Tara’s heroic battle with the Hellions, Angel flying in at the last moment, and had suggested Wesley or Cordelia must have been firing the arrows. But Wesley and Cordelia had never appeared, so Dawn had imagined Michael was the archer, or perhaps one of his magical sisters.

That Faith had saved Tara’s life confused Dawn. She wasn’t sure it changed how she felt about the Slayer, but wouldn’t it have been worth it for Tara to tell her the truth?

“It’s time for school!”

Dawn glared at the Buffybot, then snapped the fletched end of an arrow off. She spent the rest of the day spinning it in her fingers, and not finding a single thing to say.





Faith had never seen Tara stone silent before. They had decided that it would be easier for the two of them if Dawn accepted Faith’s presence; she could stand with them in telling the others.

“Willow knows,” Faith had mentioned.

“Willow tries to convince people. Dawn doesn’t need pressure right now.”

Faith dropped the subject, and Tara dropped speaking entirely. She disappeared while Faith was in the shower, and reappeared when her classes were finished. Homework kept her occupied for a few hours; Faith tried to read over her shoulder, but there were too many words she didn’t understand. Tara handed her a notebook, and Faith scribbled outrageous weapons on the pages, along with messages like, “Girls rule, Vamps drool,” and “Smile, bitch!” Tara chuckled when Faith gave the notebook back to her.

When Dawn came home from school, Tara stood, and Faith followed her into the kitchen. She watched Tara peel carrots, then took the peeler from her. Tara turned her attention to the chicken she was boiling on the stove.

Faith flicked her with water from the sink. Like lightning, Tara whipped the dishcloth off the handle of the oven and flicked Faith’s bottom with it. They were yelping and splashing when Dawn came in.

“I finished my homework,” she said, and she left. She didn’t come downstairs for dinner, and Tara didn’t push. She left a plate in the fridge for her, the way she had left them on the porch for Faith in the days before she had come inside.

The air outside was cold, and after Tara’s light went out, Faith convinced herself it would be alright to slip in and sleep on the couch, just this once.





“Is it weird that knowing I have depression depresses me?” Willow asked Xander as they walked to his car.

Xander squeezed her shoulder. “You’ve only been on the medicine for ten days now, Wil. It takes time.”

“I know,” she sighed. “And I am glad you took me to the doctor, really. I haven’t seen one since…” She veered away from thoughts of the accident, and Xander nodded. “And, my family doctor? I haven’t been able to look him in the eye since I saw him singing ‘Louis Louis’ shirtless in the Bronze.”

“Oh, band candy: so tasty, yet so terrifying.”

Xander started the car and backed out of the UC Sunnydale parking lot.

“And you gotta admit, my doc is easy to look in the eye.”

“And elsewhere,” Willow teased. “Dark hair and blue eyes is a nice match.” She shook off visions of Faith’s dark hair and Tara’s beautiful eyes. “Must be hard to be from Afghanistan in this day and age, though,” she said.

Xander smiled. This was the sort of thing Willow always thought of, and he would wish he had.

“So, why was it you wanted me to get up at six thirty and steal Dawn’s shotgun privilege?”

“There’s something going on with her,” Xander said. “It’s subtle, and I can’t figure it out.”

Willow studied his face. “I’m not going to read her mind.”

“I’m not asking you to. Just… watch her. Try to get a feel. I want to make sure I’m not going crazy.”

Dawn climbed into the back seat of the car and hugged Willow from behind. Tara, standing in the doorway, seemed to turn her attention suddenly to something inside the house. Willow watched for a human shadow, but all she could make out was Tara dragging Miss Kitty Fantastico off the kitchen counter.

The three of them chatted amiably in the car, but when Dawn jumped out and sprinted to the doors of the high school, a weight seemed to lift.

“That was tense.”

“Last week, I went inside, and Tara was like that, too. Think something’s wrong?”

Willow nodded. “Something’s definitely rotten in the state of California.”

She guessed what it was. The thought of Faith near Dawn, let alone Tara, made her stomach squirm. Why shouldn’t she tell Xander the truth? What Faith had done for her was hardly compensation for her crimes; Willow didn’t owe her anything.

But Tara knew who Faith was. Tara knew something about this that Willow didn’t.

“Families fight,” she said. “They’ll work it out.”





Janice leaned casually against the locker next to Dawn’s, but there was excitement in her eyes.

“You, me, boys,” she said. “Halloween. You in?”

“Boys? At your spend-the-night party?” Dawn asked.

Janice laughed. “No, at the park. Why would we stay at my house when all the action is out on the street? You’re just supposed to say we’re staying at my house; I didn’t tell you what we were really going to do because I hadn’t found anything cool enough yet. But these boys? Totally cool. They have their own place, their own car… Do I really have to talk you into this?

Two weeks ago, this would have sounded like betrayal; Dawn had turned down Janice’s schemes before, unable to lie to Tara. This plan sounded like revenge.





Faith was trying to be a proper dinner-eating person. She didn’t eat with her hands or talk with her mouth full. She kept her back straight and her napkin in her lap. She nodded and smiled at Tara’s questions and Dawn’s replies about school.

“Are you excited about working at the Magic Box tomorrow? Anya says there’s a lot to do, and sometimes there are kids in costumes who come in.”

“Sounds great,” Dawn said.

Faith took a chance. “Are you going to wear a costume?” she asked.

“Like I’m a six-year-old? Halloween is so lame.”

“What are you and Janice going to do?” Tara cut in, trying to shield Faith from any comment that would hurt her.

Dawn shrugged. “Watch scary, bloody, R-rated movies that her brother rented for us.”

Tara raised an eyebrow, and Dawn laughed. It was something that hadn’t happened in over a week, and it surprised Tara so much she started laughing, too. Faith didn’t get the joke, but Dawn knocked her milk over, and that was funny. Dawn and Tara both jumped up to get towels, and when the mess was sopped up, Tara kissed her head.

“Well, I am going to dress up in the most beautiful dress in the world and let people call it whatever costume they want. There just aren’t enough excuses to wear that dress.”

Dawn smiled. Life felt almost normal, until she turned away from Tara and saw Faith picking up soggy napkins and carrying them into the kitchen.

Tara cleared Dawn’s milk-soaked dinner and said it was time for dessert. Faith nearly choked on her pumpkin pie when Dawn asked, “So Faith, what are you going to do tomorrow?”

Dawn hadn’t addressed her directly for three years, and at first Faith didn’t know how to respond.

“Actually,” she finally said, “I got a job.”

Tara looked surprised. “I didn’t know you were looking for one.”

“I saw the mailings you were getting, ads for positions. And I’ve stolen food from the Doublemeat Palace too many times to work there, but there was this furniture-moving place. They pay alright, and the guys have sweet… never mind.”

“That’s wonderful for you,” Tara said, squeezing her hand where it rested on the table.

Dawn asked, “So, does that mean you’re not going to live in the woods anymore?”

Tara turned wide eyes from Dawn to Faith. Faith crammed her mouth with pie.

The three of them did dishes together, and Dawn was surprised to see that Faith knew where everything belonged. She wondered how much food Faith had been cooking recently, and her stomach turned.

When she settled into bed, Tara and Faith stood on the back porch, looking up at the stars.

“Are you mad?” Faith asked.

Tara studied her friend for a moment and sighed. “I get it. I just wish you’d told me. I could have given you more money, for a hotel or something?”

“I don’t want more money, and you don’t have any.”

The stars gleamed overhead, and Tara looked up at them. “I’m proud of you. Your job? It sounds cool.” She shook her head. “I should get a job.”

“You don’t have time for a job, T.”

“I um, I think this changes things, your job? I think we should tell the others.”

Faith leaned against the porch railing. “You think it’s time for that?”

“Dawn spoke to you. She knows where you live, and she was concerned about it.”

“I don’t think that was concern,” Faith said. “I think that was trying to start trouble.”

Tara shook her head. “That means you’re part of the family. And you’re part of the community. I’m proud of you. I want them to know. “

“You think Dawn’ll stick up for us?” Faith asked.

Tara thought for a moment, then asked, “Do you think Willow will?”

Faith shrugged. “She hasn’t called the cops on me.”

“We need to plan this,” Tara muttered.

“You need to sleep. Tuesday, long day?” Faith kissed her forehead and started down the porch steps.

“Where are you going?”

“Patrol. Gotta get in a good slay, ‘cause nothing happens on Halloween.”

“From what I’ve heard,” Tara said, “that’s only true every other year. And our number’s up.”

Faith grinned. “Oh, sweet!”





By noon in the Magic Box, it looked like hell had broken loose, and there was nothing the Scoobies could do but scramble to keep up. Xander kept groups of kids at bay with his pirate act, and Anya skated from customer to customer. Tara, whose newfound physical fitness was being pushed to the limit, was in charge of running up and down the stairs to the basement stocks, hauling up boxes of refills, and carrying heavier purchases to customers’ cars.

“You okay?” Willow asked when Tara came in pink-cheeked and swearing about the sacred oil that had soaked into her dress.

“Why are we not getting paid for this?” Tara muttered, smiling wearily at the sea of people in the store.

“Because we have the misfortune of being Anya’s friend. Or rather, Xander’s. Hey, hey, don’t read that out loud!”

Willow scrambled to snatch a book away from two teenaged boys. Laughing, Tara crossed the floor to check in with Giles, but she overheard Anya asking Dawn about “shiver me timbers” and dove in to intervene.

“What about you?” Anya asked when Dawn went to help Willow. “Ever play ‘shiver me timbers?”

“Not really much for the timber.”

WIllow was scowling and shaking a book at two boys in the front of the store, so Dawn approached her cautiously.

“I’m just saying, magic isn’t something to be played with. You think it’s a big joke, like that lady over there it the green hat?” The woman turned and glared at Willow. “Look at that wart! It’s ridiculous. If you don’t have respect for what we’re doing here, don’t be here!”

Anya shouted across the shop, “Don’t leave, customers! Buy something she’s not selling!”

The boys wandered into the ceremonial weapons section, in shouting range of Giles, and Dawn shook her head.

“Dawn! Hey!”

“Don’t stop the invective on account of me.”

Willow sighed. “It’s just… they don’t take it seriously! They think this is just another place to buy costume props and party games. They have no idea that their fun and games, their pointy hats and hairy moles, are a caricature of an ancient culture with values and rules and quite attractive members!”

“Excuse me,” a little girl asked. “Do you have any candy corn?”

In an instant, Willow was on her knees, melting to goo at the tiny hat and wart on the girl’s face.

“Let’s go fill your tummy with sugary nibblets, okay?” she said, and for a moment, Dawn was alone. A bronze coin from the charms section had been left on the table beside her, and she slipped it into her pocket and turned her attention to a customer.





When the crowd had finally wandered out, it left candles sticking out at odd angles, snapped incense on the counters, books in no discernable order, and a deranged mix of stones and crystals in the bins along the walls. A lone woman opened the door to peer into the shop, and the wind blew candy wrappers and shredded costume bits across the floor.

“We’re closed,” Giles moaned, before Anya could invite the customer in.

He sank down on the steps beside Willow and Xander. Tara dropped on the nearest chair.

“Giles?” she asked, “Did you ever make Buffy train like this?”

Giles smiled faintly. “I feel rather like I’ve slain the demon of consumerism.”

“Actually,” Xander said, “I’m pretty sure we just performed a ritual sacrifice at the altar of consumerism.”

“And this is the dance of capitalist superiority,” Anya explained to Dawn, waving fistfuls of money around.

Xander stared for a moment, then, in what must have been a herculean effort, he stood, saying, “I’m going to marry that woman.”

Willow looked from face to face, fascinated that the mention of Buffy hadn’t brought anyone to tears.

As Xander and Anya’s kissing escalated, Tara stood and said, “Okay, sweetie, time to head home.”

Dawn hugged everyone, and Tara waved. By the time they had walked home, Tara thought her feet would simply secede and fall off. Dawn, though, was bounding down the stairs with a bag before Tara could get properly settled on the couch.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” she called as she walked out the door.

The sun was setting, and Dawn was comforted by the stake pressing into the small of her back. It was sliding down into her jeans, and she wished she knew how Buffy had managed to secure stakes back there.

When Janice snuck up behind her, Dawn nearly pulled a Faith, but she managed to stop her arm and slip the stake up her sleeve instead of stabbing her friend. Janice didn’t notice, or didn’t care.
“Hey Summers. You get over the wall okay?”

“Yeah,” Dawn said. “My… my sister thinks I’m staying at your place.”

Janice nodded. “The Mominator thinks I’m staying at yours. Can’t believe they fell for that one. Like, own a TV.”

Dawn laughed, but she was nervous. Had Tara ever used this trick on her dad? Did she know the signs?

“So, where are we meeting?” she asked, mostly to change the subject.

Janice grinned. “The park. That’s where all the monsters gather on Halloween.”

Dawn beamed. Buffy hadn’t run into many monsters in the park. Still, while Janice wasn’t looking, she slipped the stake back into her waistband, just in case.

One of the boys at the park greeted Janice as “baby.” He was off limits, then, but Dawn didn’t care.

“Zach, this is my friend Dawn I told you about,” Janice explained.

“Justin,” the other boy said, and he held out his hand.

“I know,” Dawn said. “I’ve seen you around at parties.” The had loved his shaggy hair, and his letterman jacket, and the confident ease with which he had made girls laugh, different girls at every party. She thought nothing of the fact that she’d never seen him at school.

Justin nodded. “I’ve seen you, too.”





Faith was just walking in the door when Janice’s mother called. Sentences got harder as Tara stuttered more and more, and Faith finally snatched the phone from her.

“Hey, they ran off? Great, we know all the places to look. Have her home for a beating before you can say ‘bad girl,’” she said, and slammed down the phone. “Come on, let’s go!”

Tara stood still. “Go where?”

“The Bronze, the woods, the places where lame old people live. You know, the hang out spots.”

“Old people?" Tara shook off her confusion. "That’s t-too much ground for us to cover. We need to call the others.”

Faith shrugged. “Whatever.”

Tara grabbed her before she could run out the door. “We’ll need to meet up and re-plan if we don’t find them. All of us.”

“I don’t care! You do the plan, I’ll do the execution, and I’ll bring Dawn back here when I have her.”

“How do you know you’re going to find her?” Tara asked.

“Because I know where to look.”

Faith yanked herself out of Tara’s grip, and Tara knew she couldn’t stop her anymore. She sent Willow and Giles to the Bronze, and Xander and Anya to the burnt-out high school, and told them to look anywhere else they could think of while they were out. She pulled on her fighting coat and went out on the street.

There was police tape across the porch of one house she passed, and she couldn’t be sure if it was decoration or a serious warning. Either way, there were no trick-or-treaters on the block.

Near the park, a man was shouting into a cell phone. “How am I supposed to pick up my kid when there are hoodlums running around slashing my tires? What’s your goddamn job worth if you can’t keep order on these streets!”

Tara gently re-inflated the tire and searched for other such signs of damage. They were scattered, but more or less predictable. As she went, she scraped smashed pumpkins and eggshells into nearby garbage cans, feeling like she’d walked into an unfamiliar world, where everyone was hungry and hidden, and all she could think was that this was her fault.

She didn’t think she would ever find Dawn.





“Ooh, it’s cold,” Dawn said, rubbing the sleeve of Justin’s letterman jacket with her hand. “Are you okay? Do you want this back?”

Justin smiled at her, and the woods didn’t seem dark. “Cold doesn’t really bother me.”

“What are you, Superman?” God, he probably has abs like Superman.

“No,” he chuckled. “But I do have special powers.”

Dawn wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but her mind went to places her mother wouldn’t have approved of. Justin leaned toward her, and she decided she didn’t approve of them either.

“Does this work?” she asked, pointing at the radio. It bought her a moment to think. She needed to know what he was planning, because it was clear he was planning something.

They muttered about the music, and Justin reached over and touched her hair. A thrill ran through her when his fingers brushed her cheek.

“What do you expect?” she asked.

Justin shook his head, and his beautiful teeth gleamed in the glow of the dashboard. “I just want to taste you.”

Dawn met him halfway across the center console, and she hadn’t imagined kissing would feel like that. Watching people kiss had fascinated her for years. She kissed him until she couldn’t breath.

“Shiver me timbers,” she sighed, leaning back in the passenger seat.

“What?”





“The Bronze must not be living in the golden era anymore,” Willow said, tramping through the woods behind Giles. “Or maybe it’s just been taken over by the college, because the high school kids have to go out of town. Does that town have a club?”

Giles sighed. “She may have left the Bronze with someone, which is why we’re checking here.”

“How do you know this is the make-out place? I didn’t know that.”

“Oz came hunting here, before we identified him. I patrolled here with Buffy.”

“Boy,” Willow laughed. “I bet there were some kids that thought you were pretty kinky.”

Giles stopped suddenly and turned to glare at her, but Willow was leaning against a tree in the moonlight, grinning at him with her tongue between her teeth. A scream echoed through the woods, and the happiness vanished from her face. They sprinted toward the sound.

“Dawn!” Giles shouted when he saw a girl pinned to a tree. He threw the boy to the ground, and Willow attended to the girl. It wasn’t Dawn.

“He bit me,” Janice panted. “That jerk bit me.”

Willow pressed the sleeve of her sweater to Janice’s neck, holding her attention while Giles dusted her vampire boyfriend.

“Where’s Dawn?”

Janice was shaking. “I don’t know.”

“Well, where were you last?”

“I ran off, I…”

“Sit down,” Willow told her. “Breathe, calm down.”

Giles handed Willow a handkerchief, and she replaced her sleeve with it.

“I’ll head out with her,” she said, and Giles agreed. He went deeper into the trees, and Willow put Janice’s arm around her shoulder and led her in the general direction of town.





“Ow.”

Justin pulled away, looking not quite as sorry as he said he was.

“It’s okay,” Dawn said. “Long as it’s not bleeding.”

The mention of blood made Justin hungry, and he changed. Dawn saw it when she pulled away again, and she dove out of his car.

“Dawn, wait! Wait!” he called, scrambling across the seats and out the passenger door. “I thought we could hang out.”

“Hang out?” Dawn shouted. The stake sliding around in her waistband was the only thing that kept her from panicking. She knew she couldn’t outrun him. Tara had no idea where she was, and Buffy couldn’t save her. She stood and let him come into range.

“Yeah,” Justin said. “You’re not like other girls. You’re different. There’s something special about you. I knew it the first time I saw you.”

Dawn had been drawn to him, like Buffy to Angel, like Xander to Anya. Not everything in Sunnydale was dangerous.

“I just want to be close to you,” he continued. He reached out, and she flinched. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’ll only hurt for a second.”

Her mind flew to her mother, and Buffy. She just wanted to be close to them.

Justin was leaning in to kill her when Janice tripped on a root, and she and Willow tumbled into the clearing. Willow abandoned the bleeding girl and ran to Dawn, shouting, “Hey!”

“Willow?” Dawn turned around, and Justin grabbed her by the throat.

“You get away from her, kid, or I’ll…” Willow snarled.

The headlights of five different cars lit up, and five vampires strode out of the woods through the spots in Willow’s eyes.

“Gee whiz,” Willow yelled. “Does anyone come to this place to just make out?”

A trembling couple raised their hands, and one of the vampires charged them. Over the hood of their car, Faith dove into the clearing and flung herself at the vampire. The couple got in their car and drove away so fast they nearly hit more than one tree.

Justin dropped his hand from Dawn’s throat and stood staring while Faith sidled up to him. She was laughing.

“Were you parking with a vamp?” she asked Dawn.

“What’s it you if I was? You don’t get to tell me whether or not I can date the dead.”

“Living dead,” Justin interjected.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“Damn!” Faith said, “This stuff must run in the family. What kind of kinky stuff did Joyce get into?”

“Well, Giles.”

Faith cackled. Janice groaned.

“Look,” Willow growled. “This girl needs a band-aid, and that one,” she pointed to Dawn, “needs a serious talking-to. So can we just get out of here now?”

Another vampire shook his head. “Not without a fight.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Faith said. The vampires ran into the clearing, and she took all four of them at once. One of them threw her on top of Willow, but she rolled onto her hands and knees.

“Get in the car,” she hissed at Willow, and then she was on her feet, and one of the vampires was dust.

Willow yanked Janice up from the ground and dragged her toward a car on the far edge of the clearing, yelling for Dawn.

Justin grabbed Dawn’s arm and stared at her. “Is that the Slayer?” he asked. “You know the Slayer? Man, I knew there was something about you.”

Dawn kicked him and ran. The ball of crushed leaves, dirt, and dust that was Faith in a fight had rolled between her and Willow, so she ran in another direction. Justin followed. He grabbed the back of his letterman jacket, which Dawn had never taken off, and dragged her to the ground, snarling, “Trick or treat.” When she was pinned under him, he added, “Give me something good to eat.”

“I thought you really liked me,” Dawn whispered.

Justin stared at her for a moment, then sat up and let go of her wrists. “I do. And you like me.”

Dawn nodded, slowly. She liked the thrill, the freedom, that Justin created. She liked that it never had to end. “I do.”

Faith ran through the trees, scratched by claws and brambles, and arrived just in time to see Justin lean in and turn to dust. Dawn lay still on the ground, holding the stake up at her chest like flowers in the hands of the dead.

When she looked ready to move, Faith walked over and held out her hand. Dawn took it without hesitation.

“Red left with your friend. Not sure where she went. But you need a drink before you go home.”





Tara had planned as carefully as she could. Faith would look in the most dangerous places, get caught up in something, and maybe not be back for hours. If she did find Dawn, it wouldn’t take long. More or less than an hour, Tara had guessed, so the Scoobies were told to meet at the house in an hour exactly. She came home a little sooner, to be certain Faith would be safe.

Giles was the first to arrive, with leaves stuck to his clothes.

“I lost Willow somewhere in the woods,” he said. “We found Janice, but not Dawn. I walked straight through the area, and circled back. There were tire tracks. I expected them to be here.”

Willow knocked on the door while Tara was in the kitchen putting ice in a glass for Giles.

“Are they here?” she asked, and when Tara gave her a strange look, Willow turned away and went into the living room. “Janice is home. There was a first aid kit in the glove box, which is kind of a funny thing for vampires to have in a car. I was thinking maybe I could run the plates of those cars through the DMV, find out if they were stolen. If not, maybe we could keep one. I um, I know that’d be helpful for you.”

She didn’t meet Tara’s eye, and Tara wasn’t quite listening to her. “Where’s Dawn?”

“She’s safe,” Willow said. “She’ll be here soon.”

Tara ran to the door when the bell rang, but it was only Xander and Anya coming to check in.

“We got nothing,” Xander admitted, sinking onto the couch and putting his head in his hands. “New plan?”

“Something probably ate her up,” Anya said.

Ignoring her, Tara went to the kitchen and poured more water, stacked cookies on a plate, and brought it all into the living room.

“Eat,” she ordered, and everyone did but her.

Ten minutes and all but one cookie later, Tara still hadn’t decided what to do. Headlights swept through the window, and car wheels crunched in the driveway. Two sets of feet tramped up the porch steps, and Dawn didn’t bother to knock on the door. She came in and stood there, staring at everyone assembled. Faith strode in behind her, draining the last of an Icee.

“Shit,” was the first thing she said.

Relief and exhaustion made Tara’s head spin, and she leaned against Giles’s chair and started laughing uncontrollably.

“I tried… to w-wwarn you… bef-f… before you left,” she gasped. Her knees got weak, and she sank to the floor.

“Has she gone insane?” Xander asked. “And also, can someone please react to this like a normal person?” He pointed to Faith and waited from someone else to remember how to move.

Willow nodded. “Hi Faith.”

“Hey,” Faith answered, and she waved briefly.

Giles leapt out of his chair, but Tara grabbed his wrist. She used him to pull herself to her feet.

“Are you okay Dawnie?”

Dawn nodded.

“Vamp fight,” Faith explained. “She was kinda freaked, so we stopped for sodas.”

“And ruined my perfect timing.” Tara sighed. “Do you want to come in and eat?”

Faith’s stomach growled, but she looked around at the faces staring and scowling at her.

“I got a better idea,” she said. “How about you deal with this, and I book it and come back later?”

Tara smiled. “Gee, thanks.”

She handed Faith the last cookie, and Faith kissed her cheek and bolted.

Once she was gone, Tara was scared, and she didn’t know how to start. Dawn did it for her, by explaining that her date had been a vampire, and Faith was the archer who had saved Tara from the Hellions. Willow added that Faith was the reason she’d escaped the Trio.

“They were going to try to erase my memory, which is poetically justified,” she said, “but I like the information we have.”

From there, Tara was able to unwind the story of how she had found Faith, their friendship, and the legal situation they were in. It was all, she assured them, perfectly under control.

“So we can turn her in to the police whenever we want? Who’s for that option?” Xander asked, holding his hand in the air.

“That’s not an option,” Tara told him. “We need a Slayer.”

“Well then, there’s always the killing her option,” Anya said. Xander raised his hand again. Willow glared at them both from her chair.

“God, how could you even say that?” Tara snapped.

“It’s easy. Faith tried to kill Xander. Faith deserves to die.”

“Look,” Willow told her, “I don’t exactly trust her, either, but I trust Tara, and…”

Anya rolled her eyes. “Because Tara isn’t lonely, easily manipulated, and scared to hell about what will happen to her if she has to be the warrior.”

“Let’s just stick to attacking Faith’s character here, okay honey?” Xander said.

Giles sighed and searched his pockets for a handkerchief to clean his glasses with. Willow offered him the bloody one, but he declined and rubbed his eyes with his hands instead.

“Tara, while I appreciate your dedication to keeping us safe, and your… creativity in doing so, I am frankly appalled that you would consciously choose to not discuss this decision with us.”

“I couldn’t risk you saying no, and I didn’t want to risk her safety. Besides,” she added, looking down at the floor, “I didn’t want anyone to know if I couldn’t pull it off.”

“See! She’s scared! And hell, she doesn’t even know Faith, not like all of you. How can we even begin to think about this?”

“ You don’t know her either,” Tara said calmly, “and you’re saying we should kill her so you don’t have to worry about Xander. But you have to consider that she saved my life, Willow’s, and Dawn’s. I brought Faith here, and I’ll be responsible for her. That’s one thing I’m not afraid to do.”

“Tara,” Giles began again, but she cut him off.

“Buffy is gone, and a new Slayer has to take her place. If we don’t want to die, then there’s nothing else we can do. None of us is strong enough to take everything the Hellmouth can throw at us.”

Anya was shaking, and she was glaring at Tara so hard she was afraid her guts would simply evaporate.

“Well, that's not completely true,
is it?” Anya muttered. “Not exactly. We’re sitting here with an incredibly powerful witch, much more powerful than you, Tara, only no one seems willing to say it.”

Willow tensed. “I can’t.”

Anya leaned forward and looked her in the eye. “No, see, that’s not exactly true, either. Not can’t. Won’t.”

Tara wanted to intervene, but she didn’t know how. Willow tried to defend herself.

“You don’t know how much I hate this. But if I go back to being what I was, I could make something awful happen, not something good.”

“Yes, and a good way to find out what might happen is to sit around not trying.” She glanced around the room, expecting someone to react. “That was sarcasm, by the way.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Well, so is all of us dying!”

Tara opened her mouth, but Xander spoke up before she did. “Wil, I don’t want to gang up on you, but I kind of get Anya’s point.”

“Which is irrelevant because of Tara’s point,” Dawn mentioned. Tara smiled at her.

“Look,” Xander said. “I’m not suggesting you go back to doing magic the way you used to, but you know, impending apocalypse, end of the world… We brought you back from it once. We’re all here for you. We can bring you back again.”

Willow’s expression changed from hurt to livid, and Tara took a step back to make room for the energy.

“No, I can’t. If I start up again, even once, I may not be able to stop.”

Anya stood up and stomped around the coffee table toward her.

“And whose fault is that?” she demanded. “If you hadn’t gotten so much of it in your system in the first place…”

Tara put her body in front of Anya’s and crossed her arms. “Hey, you’re gonna back off.”

Anya took a small step backwards.

“She said no, and that’s it. You’re not going to make her do something she doesn’t want to.” Tara pulled herself up to her full height and took a deep breath. “And if you try, you’ll have to go through me first. Understood?”

Anya turned her back and slumped over to the couch. “Fine. If you want to risk all our lives so you two can go back to playing shiver me timberless, go right ahead.”

“Like it or not, Faith is here, and she stays here,” Tara said, looking around the room. “She’s my responsibility. She’s my friend.”

The six of them stayed still for a long time, not looking at one another.

“I think perhaps this is all we have to say,” Giles said at last, and he, Xander, and Anya all stood up at once. They filed past Dawn without touching her. Willow stood slowly and brushed Tara’s hand. Tara nodded to her. Dawn accepted a hug from her as she left.

Dawn bowed her head and asked, “Is this the part where you say you’re not angry, just disappointed?”

“I don’t know what to say right now,” Tara told her. “Just, go to bed.”





Faith found Tara slouched on the front porch swing, swaying and watching the moonlight gleam off the keys to the sedan Willow had driven from the woods. She caught the set of keys Faith tossed to her without even seeming to look.

“Willow says we can keep one of these cars, as long as the vamp who owned it isn’t on the missing persons list or actually alive and looking for their stolen car.”

“Solid plan.”

Tara dropped her head back and groaned. “What am I going to do, Faith?”

Faith picked up Tara’s legs and sat down, then lay her legs across her lap. “You’ll make a plan and bore me with the details. That’s what you always do.”

“I have to get a job,” Tara muttered.

“Money is your concern after tonight?”

“I have no safety net is my concern after tonight. Everyone else I know has a job, and they’re all mad at me.”

Faith shrugged. “Red doesn’t. Isn't. Whatever.”

Tara didn’t answer.

“Look, where are you going to get a job?”

Balled up in Tara’s fist was the flyer listing openings. The Trio’s camera zoomed in and focused.

“You think she’ll do it?” Andrew whispered.

“Worth a chance,” Warren said. “If she doesn’t take this bait, we have a whole list of demons to throw her at.”

Amy muscled her was between them and held her place. “And you’re going to thank me for that soon, right?”

“Sure, absolutely,” Warren said. “Willow’s home.”

Willow didn’t give them a show. She picked something up from her bedside table and hugged it to her like a doll, and she fell asleep lengthwise across the bed, with her clothes and her shoes on.





“Hey,” Willow said when Tara answered the door.

“Willow? Is um, is something wrong?”

Willow shook her head. “No, I just… last night. I wanted to thank you for sticking up for me.”

“Anya was out of line,” Tara said. “And you did really well for yourself, you know.”

“It meant a lot to me, is what I’m saying, and I wanted to…” Willow took a breath, cutting off what promised to be an impressive feat of babbling, and handed Tara a package wrapped in a scarf.

“This is the last bit of magic I have. I didn’t keep it to use, just… This is all of it, I swear.”

Tara nodded. “I believe you.” She took the scarf from Willow and was surprised by its weight.

“Really?” Willow beamed. “Cool.”

And then Faith was there, her arm around Tara’s shoulders, grinning at Willow.

“Hey Red,” she said. “What’s up?”

Tara was looking at the scarf in her hands, so only Faith saw the look of pain on Willow’s face.
They stood for a moment, not looking at each other, before Willow suddenly said, “I have to go to class. I’ll let you know about the cars?”

Tara nodded, and when Willow was gone, she shut the door. She wouldn’t let Faith touch the scarf, so the Slayer wandered into the kitchen, saying something about breakfast. Tara made a noncommittal gesture and went upstairs to her bedroom. When the door was firmly shut, she sat in her chair by the window and unwrapped the scarf gently, trying not to let the scent of Willow that wafted off it move her. Inside she found the doll’s eye crystal.



----------------------

Hello everybody. Gosh, it's been a while.

So, I added a bit to the gaps between scenes, because I wasn't quite sure they were pronounced enough. Was anyone still having trouble with that?

I'm thinking maybe the first person who can guess the title of the next chapter before I post it, by private messaging me, should get some sort of prize. A bonus scene, perhaps? The winner and I can discuss it.
If there are really good guesses, I'll post them here after the update.

Happy Thursday! It's good to finally have this up.

Kay

Hi, lurker here.

This story is my guilty pleasure. What got me at first was the offbeat use of language,which I really enjoy. Quirky and light, short and sweet. 

I'm wondering if future-Willow (Willow with the knee, as I call her in my head) will reappear sometime later? At the beginning I thought it seemed like she was going to feature prominently in the story (judging by the effort that went into her characterisation and also the summary in the first  few chapters) but it's been a long time now and no word on her. Curious...

It's quite a Tara-centred story, it's great to see Tara being kickass but I have a niggling thought in my head that it's rather implausible for her to gain her aptitude in fighting skills in a few weeks/months (not sure of the timeline here). Current-Willow also has a tendency to be the damsel in distress, which is not necessarily a bad thing, I just wonder if you did notice or if it was intentional.

The beginning of the story was a little confusing (e.g. the part where future-Willow meets Tara and tells her to find Angel/Faith and Tara doing exactly so, imo that was quite abrupt and insufficient context), which may put off readers, which is a pity since the rest of the story so far is pretty solid in terms of plot, writing, etc. I had to reread a few times to get the details of the plot clear in my head. 

But the flow of the story is indeed greatly improved now. Much less confusing, more fun. I can tell the scale of the plot is pretty grand, what with future-Willow and the nerds+Amy always looming in the background ominously and the chapter-ly villains that come along. Sounds like lots of fun.

One of the few long fics that is being (somewhat) regularly updated on kitten board (is it by any chance already completed? That would really awesome and assuring), I really appreciate that. Thank you for posting! Looking forward to even more. 

I got to say, this is one of my all time favorite fics of the year so far, and am always happy whenever there's an update. You've got a wondrous grasp of the human condition and reconciliation, and though I much prefer the 'just skip it' of canon, this is more real. You got me with the little spots of hope for a moment between our girls, and even the echo of a sucker punch to the gut when Willow sees Faith draped over Tara like that.

@laienmauden concerning Tara's ass-kicking skills. Reading this, I'd always assumed that they'd been with Angel for at least 2 months, and that it was intensive training. Not one hour a day or twice a week type martial arts class kind of thing, but several hours a day of combat training. Basic training for most US armed forces goes on for 6-13 weeks, so the two factors combined makes for a rather plausible window of improvement. But that's just my guess.

_________________
"If I can't be a good example, might as well be a horrible warning."

"Friendship is obviously magic. Love is a sorta super strong friendship. We gay people love so hard we broke 'Social Norm'. Ergo, we gay people are ultra-strong wizards."

@faolan228 oh, fair enough about the intensive training. I wouldn't know since I have no experience with ass-kicking at all (except maybe to myself). And I have to concur with the wonderful portrayal of the characters' interactions with each other!

Time Heals All: a Willow/Tara fic with a terrible title

Author: Big_Pineapple

Feedback: Yes, including title suggestions, line edits, and general comments

Spoilers: vague reference to all seasons

Setting: Pre-season six and onward, AU.

Rating: PG-13



Part XXI: Doublemeat Palace

“Shut up.”

Faith was almost doubled over with laughter. “It’s a great hat, T.”

“Shut up,” Tara hissed, but she had laughed, too, before she put the uniform on. It was grotesque, really, the orange candy cane-like stripes on the shirt that blended together when you tried too hard to look at them, and the hat with the mutilated parts of two children’s toys sewed on it. It was like Christmas gone horribly wrong, which probably suited Sunnydale.

“You look like the love child of an convict and a traffic cone.”

Tara took a pillow from the couch and threw it at Faith. She caught it easily and knocked Tara’s hat off. She was still laughing when Tara left the house.

Pride surged in Tara when she saw that hers was the nicest car in the employee section of the parking lot, but she caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror of her Mustang, and the feeling was gone. She slipped in through the back door and knocked meekly on the door of the manager’s office.

Manny the manager, who informed her twice that that was not a joke, just his name, nodded to her and told her to sit down in a chair across from his. His shoulders slumped, and his stomach protruded. Tara thought he looked like a giant lower-case f. When she had to look at him, she focused on his gleaming “10 Years” pin, because his gaze was so dour and intense she couldn’t hold it. For most of his explanation of what she was going to do today, her eyes darted from the floor to her knees to the narrow window in the door. Manny directed her attention firmly to the television above his head, turned on a training video on VHS, and left her alone in the little room with the lights off.

“You’ve seen us in your city or small town across the American West…” the tape began, and the narrator’s voice was warm. Tara settled back and started trying to guess when the film had been made based on hairstyles and the cars that were pictured pulling through the drive-through. She named the breed of chicken and cow depicted as the narrator chirped, “This cow and this chicken don’t know it yet, but they’re destined to become…”

Tara nearly vomited when the film played out their full, gruesome destiny. Even when the narrator began explaining the proper process for washing your hands, Tara refused to look.

Manny the manager found her with her elbows on his desk, the heels of her hands pressed over her eyes.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” he asked.

Tara turned her back on the television, but she could see the credits reflected in Manny’s glasses.

“Okay,” he said when she didn’t reply. “I’m Manny the manager. It’s not a joke, it’s just my name.”

“Yes, sir.”

His lips moved in what might have been a smile. “Why do you want to work here, Tara? You seem like a sharp young woman, and there are a lot of other jobs.”

“W-w-well I, um…” Tara began, searching for an answer that was respectful and didn’t reveal her living situation. “There was a f-f-f…”

Manny sighed. “We don’t have all day. Come on. Let’s give you a tour.”

Tara crossed her arms over her chest and tried to let the comment slide off.

A tall man with tattoos stood staring at large posters on the wall. A woman with hanging dagger earrings was smoking a cigarette at the table.

“You can take breaks in here,” Manny said. “But if you’re eating, do it out front. We want people to see we eat our food.”

“Oh, I um, I don’t really eat f-fast f…”

Manny looked at her, expressionless. “You’ll be eating our food. Phillip, Catherine, this is Tara. She’s gonna work the counter.”

Catherine didn’t move. Phillip turned his eyes to Manny. “What happened to the other one? Lucy?”

“Stacey?” Manny corrected.

“Yeah.”

Catherine stubbed out her cigarette. “She’s gone.”

Tara didn’t ask questions about that. Given the chance, she would be gone, too.

Manny swung open a locker. “You can use this one.”

A crisp white shirt and soft old blue jeans hung on a hanger in the locker, and a purse sat on the bottom.

“I th-think this is someone else’s.”

“It’s Stacey’s,” Catherine explained. “Or it was.”

Manny nodded. “You can toss it or keep what you want. Don’t worry about it.”

“I-I’m not sure I should…”

“We have a lot of turnover here.” Manny showed her a sign to hang on the door while she was changing, then led her to the time clock.

“Watch these two,” he muttered, pointing to Phillip and Catherine.

Tara shifted nervously. Phillip was still staring at the posters on the wall. Catherine was staring at her.

“A-are they going to do something?”

“They’re solid. Follow their example and you won’t go wrong. They’re lifers.”

“L-lifers?”

Manny nodded solemnly. “In it for life, like me. You want to get something out of this, Tara, you’ll do the same. You put in the work and ten years from now, you’ll be where I am, I promise you.”

“Hopefully better than that,” Tara blurted, then looked at Manny in horror.

Manny was doing that thing with his lips again, that looked like he might have been smiling.

“Ambition is a good thing,” he said. He pulled a time card out of a slot, punched it, and presented it to Tara with pride. “Congratulations. You’re on the clock.”





At home, Tara unwrapped the dinner she’d brought home and demonstrated, hunching her shoulders slightly.

“A classic double-decker with a twist. A pure beef patty above the mid-bun and a slice of processed chicken below the mid-bun. Plus pickles and the secret ingredient.”

She dropped the sandwich on Faith’s plate. “Eat it.”

“God,” Faith said. “He made you eat it after watching that slaughter?”

Tara nodded. Dawn leaned forward and fished her own sandwich out of the greasy paper bag.

“What’s the secret ingredient?”

“It’s a meat process,” Tara answered.

“You’re not gonna tell me?” Dawn whined.

“I don’t know what it is, Dawnie. It’s a secret ingredient.” She sighed and stabbed at her own home-made salad. “I met a woman who comes there every day. She said I wouldn’t be working there long, she could tell. God, I hope she’s right.”





On patrol that night, Tara was too quiet. When Faith offered a high five after a good slay, Tara ignored her.

“What’s your problem, T?”

“Tired,” Tara muttered.

Faith shook her head. “I can still get a smile when you’re tired. Come on, girlfriend, what’s with the brooding?”

Tara turned away and started walking through the graveyard, pulling her coat tightly around her when a wind whipped up.

“Why do we have to kill?” she asked.

Faith matched her stride, chuckling. “Man, that slaughter vid really messed with your head, didn’t it?”

“I’m serious, Faith.”

“Animals would be a lot better off if they didn’t taste so damn good.”

Tara shook her head. “I meant demons.”

“We kill demons so demons won’t kill us,” Faith answered easily.

“But isn’t there another option?” Tara demanded. “I mean, is it really just a fight of good and evil, or is there some kind of middle ground?”

“Of course there’s a middle ground,” Faith said. “There are some demons that aren’t evil at all.”

“Like Angel?”

“Nah, like, whole species of demons. Demon’s just a name for stuff that isn’t us.”

Tara had stopped walking, and she stared at Faith, confused. “Then why do we kill them?”

“We don’t. There are people out there who talk to demons, make friends and do cultural exchanges and shit. Those demons aren’t the ones we deal with. It’s like with snakes, T. The ones that can’t hurt you won’t try to fuck with you.”

Faith sidled up and put her hands on Tara’s arms. “Now, if you’re asking why us? It’s because we’re the only ones who can do it. Most people can’t deal with the fact that if we want to live, something else has to die. They’re called vegetarians.”

Tara tried to shake Faith off, but the Slayer wouldn’t let her go. “I mean it, T. There are other ways. But not with this. We do what we have to do.”

“Demons were here first,” Tara told her.

“Doesn’t mean they get to decide if we’re allowed to be here second. It’s not like we did it on purpose.”

Tara shivered in the cold and stared at the ground.

Faith shrugged. “It’s easier to just not think about it. But if you have to, think about the little kid who can’t fight, and then show that vamp your guns. If it’s gonna be a fight, who do you want fighting it?”

The two of them stood still so long it made Faith crazy. Just when she was about to say “Screw it,” and run off, Tara looked her in the eye.

“Where did you learn this?” she asked.

“My Watcher.” Faith kicked the grass. “She worked with this Council gig for a while, like, an orphanage for demons. And then she came to get me.”

Tara tried to watch the expressions that played across Faith’s face, but the Slayer looked away. Still, she could see the pain in her aura building almost to a panic. Faith jerked when Tara touched her.

Neither of them spoke until they had reached home.

“Buffy said I did the right thing,” Faith finally whispered, leaning against a pillar on the porch. “First rule of slaying: Don’t die. But I feel like… god, there had to be something I could have done, you know?”





Tara didn’t regret staying up late and talking to Faith, or falling asleep on the couch with the Slayer’s head in her lap well past two in the morning. At work, though, she struggled to stay on her feet, and she kept dropping food and spilling drinks. The second time she scattered a sleeve of French fries, Catherine stood behind her sweeping until the line of customers had vanished, and then she said, “Let’s take a break.”

She led Tara down to the break room and barked at Phillip to get out. He wandered away like he was dreaming, and Catherine hung the Ladies Only sign on the door. The daggers that swung from her ears looked sharp, even in the dim light.

“Tired?” she asked, pulling a chair out for Tara. Nervously, she started to sit, and Catherine pulled the chair out further. Tara tumbled onto the floor. “Wake up!” Catherine yelled, towering over her.

She knelt close, putting her hand on Tara’s shoulder and holding her down.

“You college girls come and go. You do nothing, you’re worth nothing, and you get gone. I work hard, and I don’t screw up, and I’ll be here forever. Don’t make me work any harder than I have to.”

She left the break room like nothing had happened. When Tara left work that afternoon, Catherine was starting her second shift, running the drive-through window. The boy who was supposed to do it hadn’t showed up.





“Do you have a passport?” Giles asked as he settled a half-gallon of milk in the door of his refrigerator.

Willow looked up from the counter, where she was pulling things out of grocery bags. “I do! I think I was twelve when I got it, but they last for eleven years, right? Why?”

“We should look into that.”

“You should also look into not putting your milk in the fridge door. It’s not as cold there, so you’re more likely to grow something nasty.”

Giles looked up from the open fridge and sighed. “Given the fact that I have not yet contracted some horrible illness, I think I’ll continue doing things as I please in my own home.”

“Sorry,” Willow said, and she pulled two identical blocks of cheese out of a bag. “Is one of these yours, or did I buy two?”

When Giles took one block out of her hands, Willow turned and settled the other in a bag with shampoo and a six-pack of root beer. “Thanks again for taking me grocery shopping. Prices at Family Foods are just so much better than that little market on campus. I swear, they think they can slap a dollar extra on everything just for the convenience.” She sighed and passed Giles a sack of potatoes. “Why did you ask if I had a passport?”

“I’m returning to England this winter,” Giles answered slowly, “and I want you to come with me.”

“Really?”

Giles smiled at the delight that spread across her face when he nodded. Willow bounced on the balls of her feet, then hugged him tightly before pulling back.

“Wait. Why?”

“There’s a coven there, and after hearing about your condition, they have concluded that the best next step is for you to spend your winter break with them, learn to hone your powers, and…”

Willow shook her head. “No, I think emphatically not! Giles, I’m not ready for that.”

“You are.” Giles gripped her shoulders tightly. “It’s time.”

Willow pulled away from him and resumed pulling groceries out of plastic bags. “Where do you keep your nutmeg?”

“I need you to be prepared,” Giles continued.

“Prepared for what? For losing control every time I get a little miffed? For hurting the people I love? For losing everything that ever made me happy in my entire damn life?” Willow glared for a moment, then pulled a head of lettuce out of the bag and tossed it at Giles. “No thank you.”

Giles caught the lettuce and sighed. “Prepared to lead the group, to hold them all together when I’ve gone.”

Hands flat on the counter, Willow took a breath, then turned to look at him as he spoke.

“After all these years, I’ve grown rather weary of this place. I can’t… And with Buffy gone, there’s no reason for me to stay.”

“Except for all of us. You know, the people who care about you?”

Giles opened his mouth to protest, but Willow was barreling forward with her argument. “And besides, rogue slayer in town, no one to keep an eye on her? You’re Faith’s Watcher, too, you know. What’s the Council paying you for, anyway? And retroactively, might I add.”

“I am not Faith’s Watcher, and never was” Giles cut in. “If all goes as I expect it to, I won’t have to be.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “They’re sending a new guy? Yeah, ‘cause that’s worked so great before.”

“No,” Giles explained, as calmly as he could. “They’re hiring Tara.”

The complexity of that idea was not lost on Willow. Giles could see her weighing it all in her mind, the danger and responsibility versus the honor and power. And the pay.

“Why would they do that? They don’t even know her.”

“She took the liberty of writing them a letter. I suppose she got the address from Wesley. The Council asked my opinion, and my opinion is that I couldn’t prevent Tara’s taking on this role if I tried. She and Faith are already breaking into the Magic Box at night to train. I can tell because they leave things in all the wrong places, and the door handle is coated with potion powder.” Giles leaned back against the counter opposite Willow. “The truth is, Tara is a capable and clever young woman who’s fully prepared to fight for this, and I am sad and tired. I want nothing more than to go home and get away from this dreadful place.”

The two of them stood still for a long time, before Willow started picking at the handle of a plastic bag, and Giles poured himself a glass of scotch. When it was clear neither of them had anything else to say, Willow took her bag of groceries and left.





Tara was on break at the Doublemeat Palace, hunched over her diary, when Manny the manager came up behind her.

“Louis is gone,” he said. “This is Emily.”

“G-gone? You mean...”

Manny turned to Emily, who tried to make it look like she hadn’t been chewing her hair. “We have a high turnover rate here.” He led the girl to the time clock and handed her a card. She punched it diligently and went back out into the restaurant. Manny paused to pull Louis’s card out of its slot and add it to a box labeled “GONE.” When the door shut behind him, Tara tiptoed to the box and slipped its contents into her diary. She shut it all in her locker and returned to work.

“Emily’s working the counter now,” Manny explained. “You’re on grill.”

Tara glanced at Phillip, whose shoulders were beginning to develop the same slouch as Manny’s from staring at the burgers frying on the griddle hour after hour. She pulled her shoulders back before she approached him.

“H-hi,” Tara murmured, but Phillip didn’t move. “Um… H-hello?” She raised her voice, and Phillip looked up slowly.

“I didn’t hear you,” he said. “I need to clean my ears.”

The grill beeped, and Phillip flipped the burgers and pushed a button.

“Do you want to look inside my ears?”

Tara opened her mouth, but her face lined with disgust and confusion, and she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“Once I noticed I couldn’t hear, and I went to this doctor, and he said it was the grease,” Phillip explained. “It made a plug.”

“Oh,” Tara finally said, but her expression didn’t change.

Phillip didn’t seem to mind the look she was giving him, even though she was sure it was rude. “Now I have a kit,” he continued. “For ear cleaning. It has this bulb mechanism.”

The grill beeped again, and Phillip flipped the cooked burgers onto buns, then added more patties to the grill and pressed a button.

“Hh-how do you do that?” Tara asked him.

Phillip gestured to the sizzling meat. “You put the beef on the grill. You hit the button. Then it beeps. You flip the beef and hit this other button. Then it beeps. You put that on the bun.” For a second, Phillip stared at the wall above the grill, as if he’d lost his train of thought. “There’s not a button for that.”

“Sounds pretty straight-forward,” Tara said.

“It eliminates variation,” he said, and Tara felt bored before she ever pushed a button.

Four hours passed before anything good happened. She was watching the clock, calculating her dinner break, trying to survive as long as she could without it so she wouldn’t have to endure much more before going home.

“Hey T!” Faith called, and Tara turned to find her resting her entire weight on her forearms, slouched across the counter with a clear view down her shirt. It was the only thing Phillip had ever seemed to show interest in, and Faith winked at him before turning her attention back to Tara. Dawn, behind her, waved.

“I’m gonna take a break?” Tara said to Phillip, and he took the spatula from her with a blank stare and responded mechanically to the sound of the grill beep. “Hey. You two behaving yourselves?”

“The Dawnster finished her homework and ate roasted vegetables for dinner.”

“Too good to be true,” Tara grinned, and gave Dawn an interrogating stare. “Did you make a mess?”

“The toaster oven caught on fire.”

Tara wasn’t sure if Dawn was serious, but she decided to laugh anyway. If the house had burned down, Faith would have mentioned it by now. “It’s always something.”

Faith wiped a gleaming spatter of grease off Tara’s cheek. “You gonna make it, T?”

Tara nodded. “I’m okay, especially when you’re here.” She grabbed the fresh Doublemeat Medley that slid down the chute for prepared sandwiches, and handed it to Faith, along with her bright orange hat. “Eat this so I don’t have to.”

“You gotta eat something, girlfriend.” Faith lowered her voice so the lanky teen who’d sidled in to order wouldn’t hear them criticizing the food.

“I’ll be damned if I’m going to eat that. Probably has cat meat in it.”

Faith snickered. “Like you’ve never eaten pussy before.”

Tara shoved her off the counter as hard as she could, which only made Faith laugh more.

“What?” Dawn was demanding loudly. “What’s so funny? I don’t get it.”

“Go sit down,” Tara ordered. “There’s something I want to show you.”





“Come on, Xander, please?” Willow begged. “I know you’re freaked about Faith, but this is a really big deal for Tara, and we should all be supporting her.”

She was trying to pull the group back together, in the hope that they could all gang up on Giles and make him stay. Her first plan was to get Xander and Anya talking to Tara again, but she was regretting her current strategy.

“Much as I love a good Doublemeat Medley,” Xander said, “I’m not going to be your beard so you can go and pine for your ex-girlfriend.”

“I’m not pining!” Willow snapped. “I just want to go to the Doublemeat Palace and hang out like we used to when we were little, and the thought of fast food didn’t horrify us. Ooh, we could order fries and dip them in chocolate shakes! Or stick them up our noses and pretend to be walruses!”

Xander raised an eyebrow. “Wil, there’s a reason we don’t do that anymore.”

“Hey, that French fry never would have got stuck up there if you hadn’t make me laugh like that , Xander Harris.”

“I don’t want to cook tonight,” Anya volunteered, and Willow redoubled her begging.

“Please Xander? I feel good tonight, and I want to go out and have good, clean, French fry walrus fun. We can just stick them in the corners of our mouths if that’s what you’re so worried about. Please?”






At the door of the Doublemeat Palace, Willow regretted everything. Tara, Faith, and Dawn were hunched over a table, their heads close together. Faith was right next to Tara, the full length of her muscled arm pressed against hers, and Willow tried to turn around and leave. Xander grabbed her arm and dragged her forward.

“This is your fault,” he said. “You’re gonna deal with it, just like the rest of us.”

Dawn was the first to spot them, and she waved them over to the table. Xander and Anya sat next to her, leaving only one spot open for Willow: next to Tara. She stood at the end of the table instead, looking at the old punch cards that were spread there.

“Do you guys want something to eat?” Tara offered.

“Medleys all around, I think,” Xander said. “And fries and a big chocolate shake.”

Tara smiled. “Coming right up.”

“I’ll get it,” Faith said, putting a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were cold and nervous when Tara looked into them. She covered Faith’s hand with hers, fidgeting lightly with her fingers. Faith hopped over the back of the booth and sidled up to the counter.

“What’s all this stuff for?” Willow asked, and Tara turned back to the cards.

“People are disappearing,” Dawn explained, “which is never a good sign.”

Anya was curious. “Disappear, poof?”

“Well no, not um, not poof, exactly. Just… It’s strange,” Tara said. “Everything here. The manager, the people who work here. And the secret ingredient. Meat process? How many bad things could that mean in a place like Sunnydale?”

Xander shook his head. “It’s fast food. I have swum in these murky waters, my friend. There is the assorted creepiness, there’s the staring. There’s the enthusiastic not-showing-up-at-all!” He gestured to the sad scene behind the counter. “I think you’re seeing demons where there’s just life.”

“And I get that,” Tara said. “The whole thing is depressing, but.” She looked over her shoulder and felt the pulse of energy in the restaurant. “Something just doesn’t feel right.”

Faith appeared with a tray full of food and dropped it on top of the punch cards. “Manny the manager wants you. And I think I’m gonna bail.”

“Can I stay here and go home with them?” Dawn asked, looking to Xander and Willow.

“Sure, sweetie,” Tara said.

Willow smiled. “You want some shake, Dawnie?” She saw Faith and Tara’s hands brush together, but she tried to ignore it.

Tara sighed and gathered up the punch cards. “Meat process,” she grumbled, and she retreated to the grill. Once, she looked up and saw Willow and Dawn with fries sticking out of their mouths, laughing and looking ridiculous.





A week later, Catherine was gone. Tara slipped her ragged punch card in her pocket, and during her break she studied it, as if it would give her a clue. Xander was probably right about most of the horrible things in this place, but Catherine didn’t seem to have ever missed a day. There was no way she would just not show up.

“What are you going to do tomorrow, for Thanksgiving?” Emily asked. “My mom and I are going to be cooking all day, with the TV on the Macy’s parade. I like the Broadway shows.”

Tara looked her up and down for a moment and wondered how old she actually was. Fifteen was the minimum legal age, but she looked so small and doe-eyed, Tara thought she must have lied about her birth date. Emily tugged on her braid sharply, to resist pulling it into her mouth.

“I guess I’ll cook something. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Timothy came in the back door with a massive tray of meat and slapped it on the counter. “Meat’s here,” he announced. Emily was punching buttons at the register, and Phillip was mechanically flipping burgers on the grill. Timothy had relieved Gary of his position at the drive-through window, and Gary had left for home. Catherine was gone.

She knew it would come to this eventually, but it made Tara’s stomach turn to think about grinding the meat. Manny peered out of his office, and she shuddered and set to work. It wasn’t as bad and she’d expected, as long as she didn’t look at the brain-like meaty goo that came out at the end. Of course, that was part of the job. She heaved a platter of ground beef up from where it lay, hoping she could cover it in plastic wrap and slip it into the freezer without observing the details; her eyes were averted to the very edge of the platter, and she noticed a glint of silver on the floor. Catherine’s dagger earring.

Tara reached down to pick it up, and she found Catherine’s ear still attached.

Her first reaction was to drop it, but then she grabbed a fistful of napkins and gently picked it up again. She opened the door to Manny’s office without knocking, and shut it behind her.

“There’s a p-p-problem,” she said, cursing her terrified stutter. “I um, I f-f-found this under the g-g…”

Manny took the napkins from her and examined the ear without touching it.

“It’s a practical joke. Whoever’s responsible will be punished. Wash your hands and go back to work.”

Tara shook her head. “It’s Catherine’s. It’s r-r-r…”

“It’s a waste of time, and so is this discussion. If you don’t want to become a suspect in this, you’ll wash your hands and go back to work.”

“But…”

Manny stared at her, and Tara snatched the ear away from him and left the office. She tucked the ear into her pocket, careful not to injure it, and used to pay phone in the break room to call Faith at her hotel.






“Nice earring,” Faith said. “Where’d you find it?”

“Under the g-grinder,” Tara told her.

Faith examined the machine for moment. “That’s wicked gross. Did you tell the Manny-ger?”

“I tried. He thought it was, you know, a joke? He um, he said I was w-wasting time.” Tara looked around the room without meeting Faith’s eye. “He’s not very,” she struggled for a moment to get the word out. “Patient.”

“He was making fun of you.”

“I-I don’t know that. I mean, he’s done it before, but maybe he…”

Faith snatched the ear away from Tara and started to stuff it in someone’s take-out bag, snarling, “I’ll show him a joke, goddamn asshole.”

Tara grabbed the bag and tried to pull it away from Faith. “Don’t! They’ll shut the whole place down.”

“And who’s gonna miss it? Manny the…”

“Shh!” Tara didn’t know how that sentence was going to end, but she didn’t want to find out. Faith jerked harder on the bag, but Tara didn’t let go, and it ripped in half, spilling greasy food all over the counter.

Manny appeared at his office door and glared at them. “ You’re paying for that,” he told Tara, “and if she’s not going to buy something, she needs to leave.”

Glaring, Tara shoved a Doublemeat Medley at Faith. “Take this to Willow, have her find out what’s in it.” She punched the Medley button on the cash register. “It’s one eighty-nine. Do you want fries?”

“You’re making me pay for it?”

Tara hit the fries button. Faith rolled her eyes and started digging in her pocket for cash.





Willow was sitting in the Magic Box, testing her limits. She had stood by the counter for almost an hour, watching people come in and out, buying supplies and knick-knacks. Then, she had smelled the candles, and held a few of the crystals up to the light. One of them, she found, was a perfect prism, and she entertained herself and a few customers by making rainbows dance on the walls. She recited the entire history of the prism to Anya, who said she remembered when that discovery had been made, and assured her that it hadn’t been nearly as interesting then as it was now. Willow had settled at the table with her homework when Faith burst through the door.

“Tara’s got a problem,” she announced, and she dropped the Doublemeat Medley on top of Willow’s schoolbook. It left a greasy stain on the pages. “I think the fries are fine. You want one?”

“I have a problem, too,” Anya said. “It’s the fact that you’re here.”

Faith ignored her. “She found an ear under the grinder today, manager said it was some kind of joke.”

Willow and Giles refused to touch the ear when Faith offered it to them, but Anya, suddenly curious, picked it up and looked it over. “It’s definitely real. What kind of jokes do you make with real human ears?”

“None,” Giles explained. “The manager is hiding something.”

“Or maybe he’s just trying to avert the massive health code scandal that is having someone murdered and ground up in your restaurant.” Willow unwrapped the Doublemeat Medley as if it might try to bite her instead of the other way around. “There’s a test I can do, to find out what kind of proteins are in this thing. I’ll need a microscope, and some supplies.”

Anya said, “We have a microscope for quality assurance in our smaller charms and totems. I’ll go get it.”

“Is there anything you’ll need that you can’t find here?” Giles asked.

Willow nodded. “I’ll need some stuff from the chemistry lab at the college. Faith, could you?”

The Slayer agreed.
“Is Tara in any danger?”

Faith looked to Giles and shrugged. “She can beat the crap out of Manny the Manager. I wouldn’t worry about her.”

She took the list of supplies Willow handed her.

“There’s a map, too, so you’ll know where to go,” Willow explained.

“Thanks,” Faith said, and she headed for the door. Just before she left, she paused and called to Willow.

“If there is something in that place,” she said, “I’ll kill it just as hard as you would. Nothing touches Tara.”





The wig lady was counting out change into Tara’s hand for her cherry pie when Manny came up to Emily.

“You’re working a double shift,” he said. “I’ll give you the keys so you can lock up.”

Emily tugged on her hair. “I sort of need to get home. I was going to help my mom grocery shop, and…”

“I’ll do it,” Tara interrupted. “It’s no problem.”

Manny stared at her for a moment, then nodded.

“You’re a hard worker, aren’t you?” the wig lady said. “And such a sweet girl.”

Tara watched her walk away. There was something strange about that woman.

Her first shift wound down, and her second was uneventful. A dazed older woman named Gina was the last to leave before Manny, who handed Tara a single key and a broom.

“You’ll need to be in early tomorrow to open up and return the key,” he instructed, and then he was gone.

Tara swore when he was gone. She’d been hoping he would give her the entire ring, and she could open up every door in the restaurant and find out more about what was happening. Now she’d have to go home and get supplies to perform an opening spell.

She used the broom to sweep under the grinder and all the counters, checking for more stray body parts. In the break room, she opened all the spare lockers, checking for belongings that had been left behind. In one locker, she found some bobby pins, and she started trying to pick the lock on the file cabinet with it.

Amy and the Trio had hacked into the Doublemeat Palace security camera, and they were watching her eagerly.





Faith looked through the microscope, but she didn’t understand what she was seeing at all.
Willow was trying to explain it to her.

“Whatever,” she finally said. “It’s not people?”

“Nope,” Willow said. “It’s not animal at all. So, I guess you can tell Tara that now.”

Faith paused, looking at her, then jerked her head toward the door. Willow followed her outside, and waited while Faith leaned against to doorframe of the Magic Box and looked up at the moon. Willow followed her gaze, tugging her coat around her to protect herself from the chill.

“You should tell her.”

Willow blinked. “What?”

“Tara. I need to patrol and check on little sis. It’s a quiet night, and I know she’ll be glad to see you.” Faith looked Willow in the eye. “She’ll be proud of you.”

“She doesn’t want to see me,” Willow muttered. She turned her eyes back to the moon, and Faith studied her profile for a long time.

“We’re not screwing,” she said.

“Again with the non sequitur.”

“Don’t get me wrong, T’s a fox of a lady,” Faith explained. “But you’re the switch hitter, not me. We’re not sleeping together. We’re just friends.”

Willow stared at Faith, not moving. She had never imagined her to be perceptive. And this… This was sincere understanding, bordering on kindness.

“Go tell her,” Faith said, and Willow set out at a sprint.





Tara sensed the thing before she saw it, and grabbed the heaviest nearby object, a meat tenderizing hammer, kicking herself for not putting on her street clothes and fighting coat while she was in the break room. When she whirled around, tensed for a fight, she saw only the wig lady.

“D-do you need something?” she asked. The woman didn’t seem like a threat, but there was something in the atmosphere that made Tara’s hair stand on end.

“I was feeling a little hungry, and I saw the light on. My favorite treat, you know.”

Tara reached for a cherry pie, but the wig lady laughed.

“Oh no, dear, not them.” Tara returned her attention to the wig lady and watched the wig rise and slide off her head. “You.”

Tara hurled the meat hammer at the emerging lamprey, but it dodged and sprayed a horrible slime directly in her face. She tried to dash toward the rack of knives above the sink, but she stumbled.

“Doublemeat workers,” the wig lady sighed. “You’re all full of Doublemeat burgers, and you just slide down so smooth. And there’s always more of you.”

Faster than the wig lady expected, Tara drew a knife to her with magic and flung it at the lamprey. It hissed when the blade cut into it.

“Well, there might not ever be another one like you.”

The lamprey lunged at her, and Tara tried to step back, but she fell. Hovering over her, the lamprey showed its rows of teeth.

“The paralysis spreads upwards, by the way, so you won’t be throwing things much longer."

Tara magicked another knife to her, but her arms felt too heavy to lift. She flung the weapon with her powers instead, but the creature knocked the blade out of the air.

There was a knock on the door. “Hello?” Willow called, and the creature turned to look at the little redhead peering in through the glass.

“Visitors,” the wig lady crooned, and Tara tried to shout for Willow to go away. She couldn't make a sound. Willow vanished from the window, and Tara started to drag herself backward with her arms, away from the lamprey.

“Oh, the voice is gone, I see. I simply love the paralysis.”

“Tara, are you still here? I wanted to tell you what I found out about the burgers.” Willow’s voice came through clear and anxious at the drive-through window microphone.

Tara flung a large pot at the lamprey with magic, propping herself up on her almost useless arms so she could see her target. She summoned all the knives at once and sent them flying, and the din she raised was terrible.

“Tara? Tara, did something fall?”

Beating the lamprey around the mouth with a large metal platter was slowing it, but not stopping it, and Tara was trying to gather up the knives again when Willow came through the door. Tara tried to raise one arm to shoo her out, and her other arm gave out under her. She was flat on her back on the floor now, unable to guide the few weapons she had. She heard the spray, and the painful thud Willow made when she hit the ground.

“Are we done fighting, dear?” the wig lady asked, and the lamprey loomed in Tara’s field of vision, filling it as it bent down to strike.

It hit Tara’s chest without biting, and Tara heard Willow growl, “Missed me.”

“Oh my,” the wig lady said, and Tara heard the thump when her body hit the ground.

If she could have moved, Tara would have stood and run away. The thought of Willow backsliding because of her, to protect her, ripped her to shreds, and she started to cry.

But then the lights glinted off a dirty knife blade, and Willow dropped it, and Tara watched it fall out of her hand.

No magic. The thing was dead, and Willow hadn’t used any magic at all.

Then the lamprey was off Tara’s chest, and all she could see was the worried face of Willow, bending over her.





Warren sat back in his chair and whistled.

“Well,” Amy said, “Now we know what happens when Willow’s pissed off.”

“That was terrifying,” Jonathan said.

Andrew nodded. “I think I need to go change my pants.”





“Tara? Are you okay? I mean, what did it do? Why aren’t you moving? Are you paralyzed? Oh god, you’re paralyzed! Your heart could stop beating, and then you’ll be dead, and I should call an ambulance! No, that’s stupid, what would an ambulance do? I… Oh god.”

Willow checked Tara’s pulse, staring anxiously at the clock.

“Heartbeat’s regular. Maybe it’s not a muscle thing. Like, it shuts down the brain somehow, so the voluntary functions don’t work, but the involuntary… Hey! You moved your finger!”

As soon as her body allowed it, Tara burst out laughing. Willow pulled her into a sitting position against the closest cabinet, the sat beside her and sighed in relief.

“God,” she said. “What was that thing?”

Tara smirked, and was delighted to find out she could do so. “A regular customer.”

Willow shook her head. “Did you see it? It was like… Well, let’s just say, if I wasn’t gay before?”

The two of them laughed, and Tara started flexing her wrists.

“You said you found out about the burgers?”

“They’re made out of plants,” Willow said. “There might be some beef fat in there, but mostly plants.”

Tara wished her elbow were working, so she could slap her palm to her forehead. “I almost died for a veggie burger?” She groaned and tried, with no success, to move her neck. “I have to get a better job.”





It took almost an hour for the paralysis to fully wear off. In the meantime, Tara sat with an pressed an ice pack to her head where she’d hit it on the floor, and Willow asked her every five minutes if she was nauseous. They never heard the phone ringing in Manny’s office.

When Tara could stand, she changed clothes, and she and Willow locked up the restaurant and started toward Tara’s car. Faith sprinted out of the darkness and locked her arms around Tara’s waist.

“She’s trying to finish her off!” Xander yelled, and he ran into the parking lot with Anya and Giles on his heels.

Faith ignored him, let go of Tara, and punched her arm. “What the hell happened? We were crazy worried about you!”

“We were attacked by a disturbingly phallic flesh-eating monster,” Willow answered.

“Shit,” Faith said. “You okay?”

Xander grabbed Faith’s shoulder, then doubled over panting. “We got her. We got her.”

“Um, what’s going on?” Tara asked, while Anya and Giles both grabbed Faith.

“She sent you here to try to kill you. She’s picking us off,” Anya stated.

Tara pulled their hands off the Slayer and put herself between her and them. “That’s ridiculous. Why would you say that?”

“She inspired you to get a job, and then she told Willow to go get you, on the night you’re alone and there’s an evil penis monster.”

“It’s a trap!” Xander said, and then he giggled to himself. Everyone looked at him, and he cleared his throat. “Faith is evil,” he said. “She put you and Willow in danger.”

“Faith has nothing to do with my job. And in case you didn’t notice, she was the one trying to work out what was going on in that place while you told me I was over-reacting.”

Xander looked hurt. “How was I supposed to know there was an evil penis monster?”

“How was Faith supposed to know?”

Giles tried to interrupt by suggesting, “Let’s look at this more reasonably, shall we? Dawn called us because she was concerned that you hadn't come home, and she couldn't reach you here. Faith was off somewhere, and when she saw us at the house, she ran. Why would she be afraid of us if she hadn’t done anything wrong?”

“Because I knew something was up! I ran here to make sure Red and Tara were okay.”

“Oh sure, you made it look like that,” Xander said, “but you just wanted to make sure the job was done before we could do anything about it.”

Tara had had it with this argument. “If you’re so damn concerned about me, why didn’t you help me when I said there was something wrong? I get it, I screwed up, but honestly, when have I ever given you a reason to mistrust my judgment? Or Angel’s? Or…”

“It’s Faith. Faith is evil.”

“Stop saying that!”

“Stop saying everything!” Willow yelled, and everyone fell silent. “This isn’t going to get us anywhere. Okay, Faith killed people, but then she went to jail, and we know darn well she didn’t have to stay there if she didn’t want to. So, something’s different. And, hey, Angel killed people, but we didn’t blame him whenever something went wrong.”

Xander raised his hand, and Willow shrugged. “Okay, we checked first, but when he said he wasn’t evil again, we believed him. Because we needed him. He was part of the team.” Willow glared at all of them. Everyone except Faith looked away. Giles gave her the ghost of a smile.

“Now, we’re going to go to Buffy’s house, because we have some stuff we need to talk about.”

Anya took one last stab at her. “What makes you the boss of us?”

“Besides us making a plaque for her that says ‘Boss of Us’?” Tara asked.

Faith snorted and led the way to Tara’s car. She squeezed into the backseat, pressed between Willow and the driver’s side door.

Dawn was looking out the front window of the Summers’ house, waiting for them to come back.

“We’re going to discuss at some point why you weren’t in bed hours ago,” Tara told her, but she pulled her into her lap when she sat on the couch.

Giles whispered in Willow’s ear, “Should I take all this to mean you’ve made a decision about the coven?”

Willow nodded. “It’s time. I’m ready.”



---------------------

Hello again.

Thanks for the comments, particularly from laienmauden the lurker. It's nice to know you're here.

The talk about training is a really good one; I want to add more scenes with Tara and Angel, so hopefully the amount of time spent on Tara's ass-kicking education will be clearer.
Faolan, I'm curious. Where did you learn about the duration of military training? It doesn't strike me as a fact many people have in their heads. I'm glad you do.

The story is not already written, but it is mostly planned out, which helps a lot. I wish some of the really good stories on the board would update more regularly, because I really want to know what happens.
My own updating regularity will hopefully improve when the regularity of my life returns.

Thank you all, for reading, commenting, and discussing. I look forward to more.

Kay

I really enjoyed this chapter. You tied multiple things here together while adding a few new twists.

Amy with The Trio... in a way is sort of fitting. Jealousy, greed, envy... kind of describes all of them and leaves you lots of room to do plenty of mischief.

That knee jerk reaction that Faith is evil by Xander makes sense, and Anya would go along with him, but Giles just jumping to that conclusion when she has yet to prove herself as evil seems a little odd for me. Wary of her yes, but so far it's all been unjustified.

The news that Tara wants to be Faith's watcher is an interesting turn, and so is Giles asking Willow to go to England so she can come back and be "the boss of us".

You've got a lot of interesting things going on here, it will be fun to see what you do with them.

_________________
Heather aka vampyregurl73 aka Riverwillows73

My stories:
"Dry Heat – In Progress (still)" "Penny Arcade - Completed"

My Fic Challenge entries:
"Fireworks" "Promise" "I Did What Last Night?"

This chapter has so much going for it, and I love you and it for it. The daily grind, more of Faith and Tara's friendship, the despondence of your typical Sunnydale local when it comes to the badstuff, etc. Love the discussion about the nice demons, too. Also, no words can describe my excitement at the prospect of Watcher!Tara. You have no idea. I squealed.

As for my fight knowledge, I've been doing martial arts since I was a kid, and my hand to hand training usually has cops and military guys in it, so you pick up on a few things. The longest training regimes are marines and army, I think.

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"If I can't be a good example, might as well be a horrible warning."

"Friendship is obviously magic. Love is a sorta super strong friendship. We gay people love so hard we broke 'Social Norm'. Ergo, we gay people are ultra-strong wizards."

This fits so well. It's a good way to get Willow the depth of training she needs without having her bottom out, and follows logically both from Giles's needs and in terms of the group dynamic. And also folds in the Wig Lady Monster to tie up that looose end, and hopefully, gives Tara a (much, much) better (not to mention higher paid) follow-on from the Council.

Next few weeks could be tricky- the Trio+1 might decide to move big with Willow out of the way.

_________________
Snapshots:http://thekittenboard.com/board/viewtopic.php?f=5&t=10210 a Love Story
____________________________________________________________
Kim: (breaks off the kissing) I l... (Sue stops her with a hand)
Sue: We don't talk about things like that right after, you know that, no saying those things in The Moment.
Kim: (moves the hand aside) Screw The Moment. I *love* you.

I'm all excited about willow going to the coven!!! Please update again soon

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"When Mother Nature starts howling and crying...I smile. I love thunder storms!"

I liked the role reversal here and Willow's decision to finally travel and meet with the coven. I want Tara to go with her, but I'm guessing she'll stay to take care of Dawn. Hopefully, they will reconnect soon. I miss them together:(

_________________
Shelby - Racing The Rain (IN PROGRESS) / Baby Makes Three (IN PROGRESS) / The Santa Line / Everything She Does...Is Beautiful / Calfornia Grass

"Transform your pain. Release your past. And ... uh ... get over it."
~Willow, Where The Wild Things Are

Time Heals All: a Willow/Tara fic with a terrible title

Author: Big_Pineapple

Feedback: Yes, including title suggestions, line edits, and general comments

Spoilers: vague reference to all seasons

Setting: Pre-season six and onward, AU.

Rating: PG-13ish (slight gore)



Part XXII: Beauty and the Beasts


Giles wasn’t certain what to say when he opened the door and found Tara standing on the stoop. Based on her silence and her nervous smile, she didn’t know, either. He let her in and went back to scrubbing the eyes of his stove. Tara looked around the apartment, which seemed cavernous now.

“It’s pretty empty in here,” she said finally.

“Yes, I suppose it is. Not quite as strange to me, perhaps; this is how I found it six years ago.”

Tara cocked her head. “It hasn’t changed at all in six years?”

“Well,” Giles said, looking around. “The windows and doors have all been replaced at least once. Oh, and that banister there. I tore it off when Ethan Rayne turned me into a demon. And there is of course the occasional knife or arrow damage along the walls. All in all, though, it’s…” He shook his head. “It’s completely alien to me. Everything feels that way now.”

He watched Tara scan the ceiling, as if she were reading it somehow, then rinsed the kitchen cleaner off his hands and gestured to the counter.

“These charms here are yours.”

Tara stepped up to the counter and started turning a small golden dragon in her hands.

“For now.”

Giles wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Tara knew, more acutely than he had when Buffy was called, how all of this would end. It was a relief to him, to hand off all the debris of his time as Watcher, but he felt a twinge of guilt for burying the young woman with it. She closed her hand around the dragon, gripped it tightly, then set it aside and began examining a star-shaped chunk of lapis lazuli, and Giles knew there was nothing he could say.

“Given my own way, I would simply disappear. I have grown so dreadfully tired of goodbyes. But Willow deserves them, so I suppose vanishing into the early morning mist is not an option.”

Tara looked up at him, concerned. “Oh. W-would you rather I not say goodbye? Because I can just go.”

“You’re not coming to the airport tomorrow?”

Tara looked at the floor.

Giles reached across the counter to touch her shoulder. “No one blames you, Tara. You’re an important part of this group, and they need you to…”

“It’s not the group,” Tara told them. “I know I’m still a Scooby. It’s… It’s Willow. I’m not sure I’ve ever been in an airport, actually, but, I see them on movies, and all this dramatic stuff happens there, and there are people egging you on, because they’re bored and grumpy, and somebody needs to be happy, so bring on the romantic drama, and she’s leaving, so it’s all emotional and my god I don’t think I’ve ever talked this much all at once.”

She blushed, and when Giles smiled at her, she chuckled. “My dad always said I didn’t need the devil to lead me into temptation; I find it well enough on my own.”

“Surely you know she’s changed. That this isn’t an illusion.”

Tara nodded. “She has changed. That means I’m not sure who she is anymore.”

Giles didn’t ask her anything else. She looked embarrassed to have revealed so much, and she refused to meet his eye, looking instead at the scrapes and burns on the hardwood floor.

“Would you like some scotch?” Giles offered. Tara gave him a crooked smile, and he poured each of them a glass. He was about to apologize that there was no furniture to sit on, but Tara suddenly started digging in her bag.

“I brought you something,” she said. “Like, a memento?” She tugged a lumpy stuffed thing from her bag and held it out to Giles. “I um, I was trying to remember how to sew, because it’ll come in handy to patch up Faith’s clothes.”

Giles admired the lumpy creature without reaching to touch it. It had button eyes, and little fangs peeking out from a mouth that was embroidered crookedly into its face. “You made this?”

“It’s supposed to be a vampire. But the cuddly kind.” Tara moved it up and down in an awkward dancing motion. “Grr, argh.”

Laughing and on the verge of tears, Giles came around to Tara’s side of the counter and pulled her into his arms.

“You’re going to be a wonderful Watcher,” he told her, because he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye.




“So, is she coming back, or not?”

Amy shook her head. “I don’t know, but I don’t see why she wouldn’t.”

Warren groaned. “How can we seriously still have no clue what her next move is? Or even her current one? It’s like playing checkers in the dark.”

“It’s not like we haven’t been busy,” Andrew said, putting a hand on Warren’s shoulder. “Moving is a big job.”

“Yeah, and so is finding twenty-four hour streaming porn,” Amy added. “Impressive amount of work put into that.”

“Like you don’t enjoy it as much as the rest of us!” Warren snapped, nearly rising from his chair.

Amy made a small noise, an audible shrug, and leaned against the array of televisions lined against the living room wall. In her own house, backlit and relaxed, she looked more dangerous than the Trio had ever seen her. Warren settled back in his chair.

“I also enjoy giving you a hideout that hasn’t been busted yet, routing free water and electricity, and coming up with a way to distract those meddling kids while you get what you need for your newest little toy.”

Jonathan shook his head. “We’re still in the testing phase for the freeze ray. And I asked for some of the parts we need for Hanukkah, so we have to ride that out. My parents tend to give the most expensive presents last, so we’re talking December seventeenth before we start assembly, and…”

“And I get that,” Amy interrupted, “but tonight’s the full moon, which is optimal casting time, and it’ll take a day or two for the curse to set. And frankly, the Doublemeat Palace plan was a bust, and I’m bored. You can only bake so many pans of brownies.”

Andrew smiled. “Could you maybe make one more?”

“Could you maybe make them yourself?”

“I don’t know if I can get away with any evil schemes this week,” Jonathan said. “My parents have bigger parties every night on the high holy days, and they always expect me to be there.”

Warren smacked him on the back of the head. “Who said evil schemes had to involve you, Skippy?” He turned his swivel chair to Amy and looked her up and down. “What kind of rabbits do you have in your hat, witch?”

Amy cast her spell that night, pouring a toxic-smelling potion over the roof of a dollhouse. It dripped down the back and made a puddle on the plastic back porch. Andrew and Jonathan ran from the room when it ate through the plastic and began to spread on the porch. Warren watched Amy stare at it, and he matched her twisted smile when she looked up at him.




Dawn and Faith left early to meet Willow and Giles at the airport. Tara waved to them from the porch, then went into the kitchen to get a broom. Leaves had gathered in the back yard over the past few months, and with December in full swing, and winter break started, Tara had time to sweep the porches and rake the yards. It was nice to have the house to herself for a while, to do something that was rhythmic and quiet. She let her mind wander and didn’t pull it back, even when it lingered over Willow.

“I really don’t get why you’re not going for it,” Faith had pressed her the night before. “Life’s too short to hold off on what you want.”

“Your life is not going to be short, Faith, and neither is mine.”

Faith cracked a faint smile. “Pretty sure that’s not what I meant. Come on, T, don’t you want something good in your life for once?”

“That’s what you’re for.”

Tara didn’t run over the long list of thing she still didn’t know about Willow, like she had the night after she left the Doublemeat Palace, and the first day of Hanukkah, when she’d sent Dawn and Faith to Willow’s dorm room with a basket of cookies and no card. She reached down into the earth and let her thoughts feed it like it fed her. She strained toward a spiritual feeling she’d been doing without since the older Willow had gone. She let her worries about that Willow, the one she was trying to save (or was she trying to destroy her?) scatter like the dead leaves she swept off the porch.

The earth sent out a pulse she had never felt before. Tara paused in her work and looked out into the yard, and she saw something, camouflaged by the brown and yellow leaves, try to move toward her.

Growing up as she did, Tara knew an injured animal when she saw one. Still, this was Sunnydale; she hefted her broom and approached, prepared to strike if the injured thing wasn’t an animal.

As far as she could tell, it was a cat. Its ears were mangled, and there was only bright orange fur growing in tufts and patches over skin that looked burned, almost cracked. The ribs that stood out on its sides looked ready to stab through the blackened crust. A whip-like tail lay behind the creature, with a tuft of fur that was crusted to a point. It didn’t seem to have any teeth in its panting mouth.

Tara wasn’t sure there was anything she could do, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. The thing didn’t look strong enough to move, let alone hurt her, so she set her broom down and reached to pick it up. Faster than she could comprehend, the cat buried its claws in her wrist.

Pulling away dragged the claws across her arm, leaving four deep slashes. She clutched the injury to her chest, clenching her teeth against the pain, and breathed deeply until she could bear it.

“Poor kitty,” she whimpered, and she reached out again, gathering the thing to her chest. “You don’t have to be scared. I’ll take care of you.”

Miss Kitty Fantastico arched her back and scurried away sideways, hissing and spitting, when Tara brought the thing into the house.

“Probably better that you stay away, Kitty. This poor baby might be sick.”

Tara settled the thing on the couch, and wrapped towels around it to keep it warm. She poured water into a dish and held it while the thing drank. She called Miss Kitty’s veterinarian, but he refused to let her bring the creature in. It wouldn’t survive the night.

Disgusted, Tara hung up on him and went upstairs to change out of her blood-soaked shirt.




“The fuck is that?” Faith yelled when she came back from the airport.

“It’s hurt,” Tara said, cradling the thing closer.

Dawn reached over to touch it, but Faith pulled her away.

“Thing’s diseased, sis. I’ll take it out and shoot it for you if you want. T.”

“You will not!” Tara yelled, and Faith jerked away from her. “God, how can you be so insensitive?”

Faith shoved her hands in her pockets and looked at Tara for a long moment. She was petting what little fur there was on the cat, and she seemed to have calmed down as quickly as she had become angry. Maybe Donny had done something to a cat once.

“Sorry, T,” Faith grumbled. “Just being a jackass.”

She and Dawn found their own lunches, and they didn’t bother to talk about their trip to the airport. Tara slipped outside just before dinner, and Dawn and Faith put leftovers in the microwave when she’d been gone for over an hour.

“Needed cat food,” Tara said when they asked her where she’d been.




“Focus on the space between your body and the chair, and move down. We’ve reached the floor before, but try to pull deeper.”

Faith was unconvinced that magic would be of any use to her as a Slayer, but Tara said this connecting to the earth hocus-pocus would give her more stamina, and that was something she could use. Of course, a longer attention span would help more. Tara had rigged talismans to rise and sink in vases of water, based on the depth of connections. Dawn could hit the roots of the trees, but Faith hadn’t made it past the floor of the Magic Box. Every time a customer came in, her attention would float to the sound of the bell, and he well-endowed talisman would float to the surface of the water. Faith snickered. Tara had made the mistake of allowing them to pick their own talismans, and she had chosen the one with the biggest dick she could find.

“Where are you, Faith?” Tara demanded.

Faith opened her eyes and grinned. “Don’t think it’s the earth, exactly, but it’s a pretty dirty place.”

She expected Tara to blush and laugh, flick water in her face. But she slammed her fist down on the table, making the Slayer and everyone else in the shop jump.

“This is important, Faith, but if you don’t want to put in the effort, I have better things to do!”

Faith found herself alarmed and apologizing for the second time in as many days. It was Dawn, not her, who picked up on the strangeness of what Tara had said.

“I thought training was the most important thing we could do. Since you’re a Watcher and all?”

“The cat needs me,” Tara muttered. “He’s sick.”

Anya leaned over the counter, trying to peer into the box Tara had by her feet. Nestled among the pillows, towels, and toys, the cat looked like a horrible stain.

“I really don’t think it’s a cat,” Anya said for the third time since they’d arrived in the shop that morning. “Also, I really don’t think I should let you come in here with it. Probably violates some health codes.”

“Which would be a problem if this were a restaurant.” There was no trace of amusement or kindness, or even sarcasm in Tara’s voice.

“Are you upset because you didn’t see Willow yesterday?” Dawn asked.

Anya beamed. “I’ve heard that lesbians frequently attach themselves to animals when they lack sexual partners. I wonder if Willow will find a cat. Or maybe she’ll find a sexual partner and bring her back! She didn’t seem upset that you weren’t there, you know. Didn’t even mention it. I think she’s moved on.”

“Maybe she’s moving back to Xander,” Tara suggested, and she snatched up the box by her side and walked out of the shop, muttering about feeding the cat. Faith followed her.

Anya watched her go, then turned to Dawn.

“I really don’t think it’s a cat.”




Faith caught up to Tara easily, and she fell in stride with her.

“Look, I’m sorry I…”

“I know that.”

They waited at a street corner until it was safe to cross. Tara started to walk, but Faith grabbed her wrist. Yelping in pain, Tara jerked away and tried to keep the box in her arms steady. The cat yowled. Faith snatched the box away and set it on the ground, then took Tara’s hand and pulled her coat and shirt sleeves up.

Scabs had formed on the cuts, but Faith’s grip had broken them, and they were oozing fresh blood. They were deep and lined with red. Orange fur was crusted in them.

“Did that thing do this to you?” Faith demanded.

Tara glared at her. “He was scared.”

“So am I!” Faith shouted. “Why didn’t you tell me about this kind of thing? It doesn’t even look like you washed it. Do you realize it could be infected? There’s no telling what kind of crap that thing has on its feet. It could have rabies!”

Tara’s eyes were burning with rage. She swung her arm out of Faith’s grasp and picked the box off the ground.

“Rabies would explain why you’ve been a bitch all day,” Faith said.

When Tara stormed off, Faith let her go.

It was Dawn, coming home just before dinner that night, who found the bloody bones and feathers in the kitchen garbage can.




Warren let Amy watch him work for an hour before he said anything to her. He had expected her to go away.

“Like what you see?” he asked when she didn’t.

Amy pushed off from her place leaning against the wall and approached the worktable, not answering. She knelt beside him, so close he could smell her shampoo, and she examined the welder in his hand, his gloved fingers gripping it, like she was reading a difficult text. No matter where her eyes seemed focused, Warren knew she was watching him. Ever since they’d moved into her house, he had felt watched.

“Here,” Warren said, flipping up his welder’s mask. He ran a wire through some bolts and washers, and held it out to Amy. “It’s a cat.”

Amy turned it over in her hands, then set it on the table and blew on it. It stood and galloped around the table on stiff legs, and Warren shuddered. Amy smiled.

“You’re a strange, twisted little jerk,” Amy said. “Charming, in the creepiest of ways. And I have this nagging feeling that you have your own agenda.”

Warren leaned back in his chair and swiveled it to face her fully. She was watching the cat lope around.

“I could say the same about you.”

Amy made a squeaking noise that might have been agreement.

“The girl that got cursed,” Warren said. “You were aiming for her. First thing you said when you got here was that you hate Willow. Not really sure what that’s about, but I’m sure Willow loves this girl. Thing is, the hellcat can’t kill her, and her friends’ll figure it out soon enough. It buys us time for what we’re doing tonight, sure. But how does it hurt Willow if she doesn’t even have to know about it? It’ll all be over in a day or two.”

Amy looked him in the eye, and Warren shuddered again.

“You’re right,” she said. “I guess it will be.”

The cat lumbered onto her hand when Amy held it against the edge of the table. She stroked the living wire as she walked away.




Dawn found nothing out from Tara when she asked about the bones and feathers. Tara was cradling the hellcat and singing to it, and she told her there were leftovers in the fridge when asked what the plans for dinner were.

“We ate the leftovers last night,” Dawn said, and she was given permission to order pizza.

Faith didn’t come by that night, but she was around the next morning, brewing coffee. It hadn’t occurred to Dawn until just then that she hadn’t seen Miss Kitty Fantastico around for a couple days, but she was batting at Faith’s ankles and mewling. When she tried to sink her claws into Faith’s leather pants, Faith picked her up and set her on the island.

“Tara won’t like you doing that,” Dawn said. She sat down on a stool, and Miss Kitty started pawing her hair.

“Tara’s asleep, so who has to know?” Faith paused, looking toward the kitchen door as if Tara might come through it at any moment. “Ain’t she usually an earlier bird than this?”

Dawn remembered the bloody feathers in the garbage and shivered. The trash had been taken out, though, so there were no remains. As she sat up, she noticed that Miss Kitty had no food or water. She picked the little cat up and dropped her gently onto the floor.

“So that’s what you’re so upset about, huh? Tara hasn’t come down to feed you yet.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen those bowls empty before,” Faith said. Dawn hadn’t either.

Miss Kitty ate so quickly when she was fed that Dawn was afraid she’d choke or make herself sick. She purred and cried while she chewed.

A door opened upstairs, and Miss Kitty looked suddenly alert. She crouched low and crept toward the kitchen door. Tara came through, carrying the hellcat. She set it down on the island while she poured herself some coffee, and it lay there. Only its eyes moved, and it made a horrible sound when it looked at Faith.

“Shhh, it’s okay, kitty,” Tara crooned, stroking its furless head.

Miss Kitty hissed and tiptoed around the island. She got a clear view of the hellcat and sprang, claws extended. Tara kicked her out of the air.

“Bad kitty!” she barked, stomping her foot. Miss Kitty staggered upright and slunk out of the room.

“Jesus, T, what’d you do that for?”

Tara pulled the hellcat into her arms, took her mug of coffee, and walked back upstairs without a word.

Faith started pulling cereal boxes out of the cabinets and slid Dawn’s favorite kind across the counter to her, along with a bowl and spoon.

“We’re out of eggs,” she said, and she stood listening while Dawn ate. Upstairs, the shower started, and Faith reached across the island and took Dawn’s hand in hers. “You stay close to me today, alright sis?”

She stood in the doorway of Dawn’s bedroom with her back turned while Dawn changed, then tossed her a coat and dragged her to the Magic Box.

“How’s the not-a-cat thing?” Anya asked when the came inside.

Faith tramped over to the books and started grabbing anything she thought might help them off the shelves. “Definitely not a cat. I think it poisoned her or something. It scratched her.”

Anya looked interested. “Venomous. Most demons are perfectly edible, if not particularly flavorful, but there are also quite a few that are venomous, meaning they can cause harm through bites, scratches, or stings.”

“Whatever. Tell me about them.”

“Based on the look of the thing,” Anya said, flipping through her books, “Here! Mrudok demon, scratches its victims and causes them to lose all their hair and nails.”

Dawn wrinkled her nose. “Ew. Why?”

“So it can eat it. Nowadays, Mrudok demons tend to take up residence with humans who work at hair salons. They’re wonderful at cleaning up after a long day’s work. Is Tara’s hair falling out?”

Faith hauled another armload of books to the table and dropped them. “Nah. She’s just…”

“Mean?” Dawn offered.

“She kicked the cat. The real one, not the one that looks like it died two months ago. God, why did she even go near that thing?”

Faith answered her own question: Tara wasn’t afraid of ugly things. That was why she wanted to be Faith’s Watcher in the first place. She would have been right next to Diana, her first Watcher, hugging the orphaned Salamanders and goat-headed humanoids. She would have followed that weird, corkscrew-shaped demon kid straight into Kakistos’s lair, answering some cry for help or other, the details of which Faith would never know. But she would not die like Diana had.

Faith nearly tore the pages of the books as she turned them, searching for an answer.

Xander came to the shop that evening after work. Anya was reading and ringing up customers at the same time, and Dawn was trying to focus through a splitting headache born of not eating anything all day. Faith was throwing another book across the room, adding the word useless to a string of expletives. He nodded at their explanation of what was happening to Tara.

“No luck finding out what’s wrong, though, huh?” he said. “Has anyone checked on her since this morning? Maybe something’s happened.”

Faith jumped up and charged toward the door. Dawn used the last of her energy to follow her.

Tara was in the kitchen, humming to herself and chopping something on the counter. The hellcat raised its head and hissed at them when they opened the back door, and Tara turned sharply. A rabbit’s head was sitting on the counter, and Tara’s hands were coated in blood. The hellcat licked a drop of it off her fingers before hissing at them again.

“Go to the Magic Box,” Faith said, and Dawn bolted out the door.

Blood squelched between her fingers when Tara tightened her grip on the butcher knife. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing the almost purple wound on her wrist.

“You shouldn’t leave her alone at night,” Tara said. “Watcher’s orders. Better obey them.”

“Tara, listen to me. You’re sick. That thing…” Faith pointed at the hellcat, and Tara lunged for her.

Faith barely dodged, and she was too caught up in trying not to hurt Tara to disarm her. She knocked a stool from the island down between them and gained a moment to assess. Tara moved in predictable ways, here as much as in training. She was quick and elusive, but only so skilled, and not very strong. Barring magic. Tara hadn’t used magic against her in a fight yet.

The stool was swept out of the way without Tara ever touching it, and Faith braced herself for something a bit less predictable than she was used to. When Tara swung her knife, Faith blocked with her arm, striking across the scratched wrist; Tara’s powerful grip loosened for a second in pain, and Faith disarmed her, throwing the butcher knife into the sink. Tara spun into her and threw her to the floor. Faith scrambled forward and grabbed a pepper shaker from the island. In full Slayer mode, she hurled it at Tara’s face. It was swept away and crashed through a pane of glass in the back door.

Tara turned her gaze to the rack of knives on the far counter, and Faith slammed into the middle of her. Frantic, while Tara weaseled her way out of her grasp over and over, Faith tried to pin her to the wall. She caught her trying to make eye contact with something in the kitchen, and she clapped a hand over her eyes before managing to hold her arms against the wall over her head and secure her legs with one of her own. Faith pressed her Watcher into the wall and watched her smile.

“Is this how you like it?” Tara teased. “Now that Willow’s away, you’re going to confirm her fears?” She writhed in Faith’s grip, but not exactly to get away. Faith almost let her go so she could pull back.

“I thought you told me all your deepest, darkest secrets. Like the one girl you really did want. Tell me, Faith, do I compare?”

Faith squeezed Tara’s wrists until the smile left her face and the crusted blood on her hands crackled. “Stop it.”

Tara laughed and pushed her hips forward. “Haven’t even started.”

When Faith pulled her back and slammed her against the wall again, words rushed out in a puff of air. She understood too late that something was about to happen. Fog boiled out of Tara’s hands and stung Faith’s eyes like fire. She tried to close them, but the pain wouldn’t subside. She uncovered Tara’s eyes to cover her own, which allowed Tara to shove her backward with a rush of magic, grab the hellcat, and vanish in the fog.




Faith was shaking when she stumbled out of the house, and she barely managed to pull her punch when Dawn grabbed her shoulder.

“I told you to go to the Magic Box!” she yelled.

Dawn had braced for the blow, and she opened one eye slowly and looked around before she relaxed. “I know,” she said. “But I thought of something. I saw bones in the garbage yesterday, and I thought, hey, maybe it’s more rabbits. We could figure out how often this thing needs to eat, and maybe that’d help us figure out what it is.”

“And?”

“I didn’t find rabbits. I found a bird and a squirrel. Squirrel doesn’t stink quite as bad, so I’m guessing it’s fresher. So, bird, squirrel, rabbit. It’s eating bigger things every day.”

Faith sighed and clapped Dawn on the shoulder. “Good work, Sherlock.”




“What happened?” Xander asked, offering a carton of Chinese take-out. Dawn washed herself to the elbow in the bathroom, then took the food gratefully.

“Tara killed a rabbit,” she said.

Anya was ecstatic. “Good for her!” The others stared at her, and she wilted. “But, out of the ordinary and probably a bad sign. Was it the only one?”

Dawn detailed what she’d found in the trash, and Anya nodded, thumbing through a book.

“I’ve heard of this! We were looking for demons, but that’s all wrong. It’s a parasite!” Anya presented a book to the group, with a perfect mug shot of the hellcat.

“A misnomer, actually. Humans tend to call them cats because they bear more resemblance to them than any other living thing. Then again, they resemble a dead thing more than anything else. Demons call them sangui, from the Latin word for leech. They only have enough strength to strike a host, then the host cares for them, feeding them bigger and bigger things until the sangui’s strong enough to devour the host. At that point it has enough energy to reproduce.”

Xander rubbed his face. “So what you’re saying is, this thing is going to eat Tara?”

“Well, not any time soon. If it’s eating rabbit tonight, that’s a good bit away from a full-grown human. We should have at least four days to find a cure.”

Faith was pacing and popping her knuckles. “Great. So how do we do that?”

Anya shrugged. “The only one who can break the spell of the sangui is the host. One of us could kill it, but it might… break her, somehow. There’s no way to be sure.”

“Great, convince Tara to kill the thing she’s been carrying around and feeding fresh meat she caught and butchered with her bare hands. While she’s insane. Sounds like a plan.” Xander sighed.

“She attacks anyone who looks at it funny, and she’s more dangerous than you’d expect,” Faith said. “So talking ain’t an option.”

“It could be,” Anya said. “There might be a… clarity spell, or something. We could get through to her?”

Faith nodded.

“Should we go out and look for her?” Dawn asked.

“She won’t put herself at risk while she has to deal with the cat. She’s been eating and all that.” Faith shrugged. “She’ll probably go home when she’s sure I’m gone.”

“Which means you’re not going home tonight,” Xander told Dawn.

Dawn turned to Faith. “Can I stay with you?”

For a moment, Faith hesitated, wondering if the day could screw with her head any more than it already had.

“Sure,” she said.

“We could send Spike out to make sure Tara’s safe,” Anya offered. “He’s strong enough to fight her if he has to, and no one really cares if he gets hurt.”

“Could we trust him not to hurt her?” Xander asked.

“Just tell him to send her home, and not to get between her and the cat,” Faith said. “I’ll feel better if I know she’s safe.”

Xander agreed. “You guys work on that spell thingy. I’ll drive out to the crypt.”

“Be careful,” Anya told him, and she kissed him before he left.




Spike wandered into the Magic Box at nearly eleven o’clock, announcing, “Bird’s in the nest, safe and sound. Well, not exactly sound, but you lot knew that.”

Dawn held a book out to him. “Can you read this? I can tell it’s something important, but I’m not sure what.”

Spike took the book and glanced at it, then looked at Dawn. “When’d you learn Arabic, nibblet?”

“Just picked it up, I guess.”

“Right. Look, how about this? You get some sleep, and I’ll see if I can work out what you’ve picked up here?”

Faith laughed. “That chip in your head really mushed you up inside, didn’t it Spike?”

He shot her a look that had as much pain in it as anger, and she backed off. She knew why he watched over Dawn.

“Come on, kid,” she said, pulling Dawn to her feet. “Catch you guys here tomorrow?”

“We’ll be working on it,” Xander said.

“Do we have to work on it all night?” Anya whined. “Why do they get to go home and we don’t?”

The night was cold. Faith watched her breath curl in front of her and tried not to worry about Tara. She’d stay in the house; she hadn’t gone wandering before. She’d started hunting a little earlier each day, so there was no reason to expect she would try anything tonight.

“What’s bigger than a rabbit?” Dawn asked.

Faith shrugged. “Possum. Raccoon, maybe.”

When they reached Faith’s hotel, Dawn got a toothbrush from the man behind the counter, who simply pointed to a basket of them without looking up from his late night television. Dawn brushed her teeth, scrubbed her face, and slipped on the oversized t-shirt Faith offered her.

“Is this what you sleep in usually?” she asked.

Faith chuckled. “Nah, I usually sleep in the skinny. But tonight I’ll spare you the view.”

Dawn looked around the room for a moment, bewildered. “I should have asked that guy for pillows,” she mumbled.

“Take the bed,” Faith said. “Not like I’m sleeping.”

Too tired to protest, Dawn tucked herself in and went to sleep. Faith turned out the light and stood just outside the door, watching her breath and waiting for morning.




Jonathan gasped when Amy submerged his hand in a bathtub filled with cold water.

“It’s too hot!” he hissed, but she ignored him, watching the ice that encased the freeze ray and half of his arm crack. She uncurled his fingers and pulled the freeze ray out of the tub, and told Jonathan to stay where he was.

“You broke it!” Warren snarled when she handed him the waterlogged weapon. She shrugged.

“How much more time do you need for this new thing?” Amy asked, flicking her eyes to the diamond on Warren’s worktable.

Warren rubbed his hands together. “Let’s just say, it’s gonna be a happy new year.”




“We haven’t found anything that’s workable yet,” Xander said the next morning. “Every clarity spell requires way more power than any of us has, except for the one Dawn found, and that has to be performed by a relative.”

“Spike dropped by the house again just before dawn, called and said Tara’s sleeping with the thing in her bed. Something tells me Joyce would not approve.”

“Mom let the zombie cat in the house,” Dawn said.

Faith groaned and stretched. “Hunt’s probably gonna be later tonight, based on the prey. I should stick close when she goes out, in case she runs into trouble.” She stood, swinging her arms and saying something about a punch break. In the back room, she sat on a pile of mats, taped one hand, and fell asleep halfway through taping the other.

“Maybe Tara has relatives who are nice,” Dawn suggested. “You know, witch relatives, who don’t think they’re the spawn of Satan?”

Xander frowned. “Maybe, but how do we find them? Call up her brother and say, ‘Hey beard buddy, got any witches laying around we can borrow?’ Oh yeah, that’d be interesting.”

“There has to be another spell. Clarity spells are common! Only problem is, it’s generally the person performing the spell who’s seeking the clarity. Hey, we could marry her to someone and have her husband perform the ritual!” Anya said.

“Have anyone in mind?”

Anya continued flipping through the books.

When the group ordered lunch, Dawn went in to check on Faith. The Slayer woke with a start and stared at Dawn.

“What’s bigger than a rabbit?” she asked.

“Um, a possum or a raccoon, or…” Dawn’s eyes went wide. “Miss Kitty!”

Faith nodded. “She’ll never forgive herself.” She dashed into the shop, calling, “Okay, added urgency! Tara’s gonna kill the cat. This Exorcist act stops today.”

“How?” Anya demanded.

Dawn was making connections. “Naissa, the cat people! The second Slayer’s mom tried to protect her. That’s like a Watcher, right?”

“Maybe,” Anya said. “The Watcher’s Council formed in my lifetime, but it’s a destiny thing, so it’s possible the origins go back that far. Still, the parallel’s pretty weak.”

Faith shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You could go into a coma.”

Xander countered, “Of course, you recover from those fairly well, so on the whole, not much damage done.”

“We’ll do it, then.”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“I thought of that,” Xander said, and he ran down the steps into the basement.

Anya watched him go, then turned back to the table. “In her moment of clarity, it might help to have someone she knows nearby, to talk her through it. Might help her process.”

“That your job then?” Faith asked.

“I should probably stay with you. I have more magical experience, and I know what it looks like when a trance is going wrong. I might be able to pull you out of it before you go into a coma, and then we won’t have to go back to living without a Slayer until you come around again.”

Dawn shuffled her feet. “So that means me. I have to go and talk to Tara.”

“I’m not sure that’s…” Faith started to say, but Xander reappeared. “The tranq gun.”

“If all else fails,” Xander said.

The trance was complicated and took almost two hours to prepare. Faith insisted Xander and Dawn wait until she’d begun before they went to the house; there was less time for something to go wrong on their end that way, and the clarity moment wouldn’t help if Tara was unconscious when it happened.

Faith settled herself on the Magic Box floor at half past three, with a translation of the spell in her lap. Anya poured sand around her counter-clockwise and nodded. Xander and Dawn left as quietly as they could.




When they opened the door, they could hear Tara calling, “Here, kitty kitty kitty.”

“Tara?”

She appeared at the top of the stairs and smiled. “Dawnie. Where were you last night?”

“I spent the night with a friend,” Dawn said. “I told you, but I guess you were busy.”

Tara waved to Xander, who was struggling to hide the tranq gun behind his back. The hellcat flicked its tail and hissed. Tara shushed it.

“Have you seen Miss Kitty?” she asked. “It’s time for dinner.”

“Kind of early for dinner, don’t you think?”

Tara shrugged. “Treats.”




Faith was struggling to fall into the trance. She recited the spell over and over until her throat was dry, and then the scratchiness of her throat made her want to stop and drink, and the thought distracted her more. There was no good place to settle; when she tried to blank her mind, the strangest things floated through, like the draft coming under the door of the shop, and questions about how much money was in the cash register, and if Tara came out of this intact, would she remember what she’d done?

She shook her head. She had to get in the zone, like she did with Slaying. Again, she started the chant, but she punctuated the words with thoughts of her best fights, the motions she went through. There was no way to empty her mind, but extreme focus might get her there. Faith fell into a rhythm: see, stake, dust, over and over, twitching her shoulders and hands. She closed her eyes, the chant imprinted on her mind, and imagined the flow of fighting with Buffy, the connection she’d felt. She constructed every detail of her sister Slayer until it felt like she was alive again, and when she whirled to stake an ambushing vamp, she found Tara, fuzzy around the edges, but fighting by her side.




Tara let the hellcat nest in a pallet of silk scarves along the living room wall when she saw Miss Kitty slink up the basement steps.

“There you are,” she crooned, and Miss Kitty sniffed her outstretched hand. Dawn saw her summon a knife, and she dove for the cat. Xander slammed the door shut and brought the tranq gun to his shoulder. Tara’s hands closed around the knife, and she glared at them.

“Give me my kitty, Dawnie,” Tara said, stepping forward.

Xander warned her, “I’ll shoot this, I swear.”

“Violence, violence,” Tara murmured.

Dawn backed up until her heels hit the couch, and she sat suddenly. Miss Kitty was squirming in her arms, and Tara snatched at her. Xander fired and missed. The hellcat hissed and tried to stand.




“T? You there?”

“Five by five,” Faith’s vision answered. Faith wasn’t sure if that meant the spell was working or not. She gave up chanting the spell and repeated, “The orange cat is evil, don’t kill Miss Kitty,” hoping that somehow this would get through.

Tara swung at a vamp that came at her, and to Faith’s horror, she hissed. The hellcat was draped around her shoulders. Faith tried to grab it and found herself engaged in a fight again. She took the easy way out and punched Tara in the face.




Tara yanked the gun out of Xander’s hand with magic and threw it across the room. Dawn was huddled on the couch, nearly stifling Miss Kitty, begging Tara to stop what she was doing.

As if she would cut through Dawn’s knees to reach the cat, Tara raised her knife. Then, she blinked, staggered, and hurled the blade in the opposite direction.

The hellcat yowled, skewered to the wall, and hissed at them all before exploding and spattering them with blood.

Gasping, Tara fell onto the couch. Miss Kitty scratched Dawn’s chin and sprinted back to the basement.

“Dawn,” Tara said, wiping blood out of the girl’s face. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

Dawn stared at her. “Tara?”

“What was that thing?”

“It worked!” Dawn shrieked, and she grabbed Tara’s wrist. Tara jerked away, wincing, and pulled up the sleeve of her shirt. The cuts on her arm were swollen and red, weeping puss and blood.

“Oh god,” she said. “This is definitely infected. Possibly diseased. I-I need to go to the hospital, or…”

Xander put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s a demonic wound. Ahn has an ointment on the way for you, but until then, soap and Neosporin should do the trick. There are some things modern medicine isn’t prepared for.”

Tara nodded vaguely. “Soap. Right. A-and possibly shampoo, since we all seem to be coated in… guts. I-I um…” Tara stood and staggered upstairs. Dawn and Xander winced when they heard her retching.




“So she has no idea what happened?” Faith asked. Xander was in the Magic Box bathroom, trying to rinse hellcat gore out of his hair.

“Not a clue,” he answered. “We told her what we had to, but we left out the slaughtering of small animals bit.”

Anya nodded. “Because that’s tactful. That’s what tact is, right?”

“In this case, I’d call it mercy. She pukes just seeing blood. To think of herself as a butcher? I’m not sure she’d ever eat again.”




Faith agreed to clean the mess in the living room so Tara wouldn’t have to look at it. When she woke up the morning after the job was done, Tara climbed out of bed eager to be able to sit in her own living room without getting sick to her stomach. She paused, though, when she heard noises coming from Buffy’s bedroom. The robot was staying at the Magic Box so Faith would have something to spar with that matched her skill; Tara was almost afraid to find out what was rustling around in the room.

She peered around the doorframe and saw Dawn rifling through the contents of one of Buffy’s desk drawers.

“What are you up to?” Tara asked her, standing just outside the door. It felt like to cross the threshold would be to intrude on a sacred space.

Dawn added a bottle of holy water to a pile of weapons, a bottle of nail polish to a jumbled stack of useful things, and an empty bottle of Tylenol to the garbage can beside the desk.

“I get the bigger room,” she said. “Faith can have mine.”

“Faith?”

Dawn unearthed a stack of photographs, stared at the top one, and set them all aside. “She’s family.”

Tara smiled. Uncertain what to say, she asked if there was anything she could do to help. Dawn shook her head, so Tara watched her a moment, then left her to her work.




Jet lag was not something Willow experienced. She reveled in the newness of the coven’s land, covered in trees and snow. The horses were stabled, and she dared herself to peek at them through the door, but she never had to enter. Outside, the air was crisp and fresh, and there was a fireplace in every room inside. For the first week, they asked nothing of her except to set the table and join them in prayers. It reminded her of the Wicca group at UC Sunnydale, except that the power of the circle pulsed when they gathered.

Tomorrow, Sister Helen would begin teaching her to connect to the earth, so Willow set out to enjoy herself. She sledded on a tray she’d found in the kitchen, getting snow in her pants when she hit a rock and tumbled off. Her clothes dried nicely on a rack beside the fire, and she dressed herself in clothes she’d left to heat up before she went out. Her hair was dripping wet, so she pulled it into a sloppy pony tail and set out to explore the South wing of the building. When she arrived, she’d explored the central area, with the great hall, the parlor, and a ring of small temples. On clear days, she wandered the outlying areas, and when it snowed heavily, she explored the wings, which contained kitchens and storage, bedrooms, and locked doors that she ached to open.

The South wing was where visitors came in. As she approached, she heard voices. One of them was male, and distinctly not British. She walked down the long corridor, following the sound, which became more and more familiar the closer she got to it.

It didn’t surprise her. She had expected to hear that voice again, in Sunnydale, in the mountains of Tibet, around a corner in Istanbul. And here it was, wafting out of a snow-dusted chamber in a secluded haven in rural England. The speaking stopped, and she heard sniffing. Her scent would be as familiar to him as his voice was to her, she thought as she stepped into the room, grinning.

“Hi Oz.”



--------------------

Hello all.

This late update is the result of a happy reunion with my girlfriend, so I must admit I'm not as sorry as I would usually be. We'll see if getting back on a regular schedule life-wise will make my updates more consistent as well.

Enjoy this installment, and as always, critiques are welcome and desired. Happy September.

Kay

This is the sort of fanfic I'd always dreamed of. Literally. I actually had dreams where Tara was Faith's watcher and they lived with Dawn and had adventures. At this point, I give this story the highest level of feedback I can:

This is my favorite episode so far.

_________________
"If I can't be a good example, might as well be a horrible warning."

"Friendship is obviously magic. Love is a sorta super strong friendship. We gay people love so hard we broke 'Social Norm'. Ergo, we gay people are ultra-strong wizards."

Time Heals All: a Willow/Tara fic with a terrible title

Author: Big_Pineapple

Feedback: Yes, including title suggestions, line edits, and general comments

Spoilers: vague reference to all seasons

Setting: Pre-season six and onward, AU.

Rating: PG-13




Part XXIII: Phases

Faith hung the last of her jackets in the closet while Tara sat on her freshly-made bed, folding warm laundry.

“I need to learn to watch out for stuff, you know? Like, lying, addictions, smooth talking…”

“Mange?” Faith suggested.

Tara laughed, then wrapped her hands in a warm tank top and took a deep breath. “I know none of what happened was my fault. The fact that people take advantage of me means there’s something wrong with them, not me. I’ve been over this, with Dr. Song? But it just doesn’t seem right, to hold people’s mistakes against them to protect myself. Aren’t we supposed to be forgiving?”

“There’s a difference between forgiving and forgetting, T,” Faith told her. “And there’s nothing wrong with being careful.”

When Tara shook out the tank top in her hands, the pain in her wrist flared, and she closed her eyes to block out the shame that came at her from every direction. How could she have been so stupid? Only someone as trusting as she could fall prey to something like a hellcat. But to refuse to trust would be to cut herself off from people like Faith, and for such selfish reasons.

“Sometimes,” she admitted, “I wish I could just forget.”




Willow crammed a forkful of mushrooms and baked beans into her mouth and half-chewed before swallowing. Oz watched in wonder.

“Full English breakfast is amazing, don’t you think? Do you want more bacon? Here.” She slid two slices from a serving platter onto Oz’s plate, then attacked her own, mopping up egg yolk with buttered toast and following it with bits of fried tomato and huge gulps of milky tea. It was her second plate, and she was still going strong.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry in my life!” Willow declared. “Not even that time my parents forgot me in the house for a weekend while they were on business trips, and all I knew how to fix was cereal and instant mashed potatoes.”

A sausage vanished from her plate and was quickly replaced by another.

“This is normal,” Oz said, looking for some reassurance.

Willow nodded while she chewed. “Completely. Earth magic takes energy from the body, so people who aren’t used to it spend a lot of physical reserves. The metabolism compensates eventually, but my body’s not there yet. I sort of used cheat codes all this time, because I was giving energy from other places, and then I haven’t been doing magic at all for months, so I’ll be chowing down like this for a while.” She didn’t pause for breath, but she stopped talking to make room for more food in her mouth. “So, it’s nice your boss let you stay here for a while.”

“Yeah,” Oz said. “She’s cool.”

“And she sells magic supplies?”

Oz nodded. “She worked with the warlock in Romania. That’s how we met.”

Willow grinned. “And you just do deliveries and stuff?”

“Mostly I try to keep her out of trouble. Work a lot with her brother Michael. You’d like him. Very chill.”

“I still can’t believe you’re here. I mean, I believe it, and I’m not all that surprised, but from the perspective of a normal person, it’s kind of strange.”

“Michael and Rosetta have this theory, that the Hellmouth magnetizes people,” Oz explained. “So, if you live in Sunnydale for a while, it’s like you’ll never be able to completely leave. Things get pulled toward you. Rosetta’s sister lived in Sunnydale, and they’re terrified she’ll end up there again.”

“Again?” Willow asked. “I thought their sister was dead?”

Oz shrugged. “They’re cats.”

“Ugh.” Natalie, a tall, spindly witch, flopped onto the bench in front of them and glared at a ragged slice of bacon in disgust, cutting off the flow of conversation. “I always get the scraps of food.”

“Maybe if you came before breakfast ended instead of when the cooks are ready to clean up the plates, you’d get something better.”

Natalie rolled her eyes at Willow and ripped pieces off her bacon strip.

“Did you have a hard time waking up this morning?” Willow asked, then she turned to Oz. “Natalie has a hard time getting up in the morning in winter because it’s dark outside, and there really isn’t much sun at all here because it’s cloudy and rainy, so she’s late for breakfast, which isn’t how she is in summer, so it makes her grumpy, and…”

“Shut it, Rosenberg.”

Willow blinked. Oz leaned forward. “Something wrong?” he asked.

Natalie stabbed at a cold fried egg until the yolk spilled out across her plate. “I ran into a search party last night. A little boy in town over east of here went missing, and they’d all been out since sunset. I tried to get them to come here to eat, or have tea or something, but they wouldn’t stay.” She chewed for a moment, staring out the window onto the muddy fields and woods beyond.

“It was odd,” she said. “It was voices I heard, them lot shouting for the little boy, but I could have sworn at first it was singing.”




Tara gritted her teeth when Faith spread the ointment across her wrist.

“Don’t you think we should stitch this?” Faith said.

Dawn shook her head. “It’s like a demony thing, right? So stitches might make it worse. The ointment’ll help, that’s all we’re supposed to do.”

“Yeah, but it’s gonna scar.” Faith looked at the deep cuts, watching the ointment soak in.

“Scars are okay,” Tara told her. “More.”

Faith dipped her hand in the double boiler on the stove, coating it in the dripping ointment, and tried to be gentler as she applied it. This second dose didn’t fully absorb, as the instructions had said it wouldn’t, so Faith poured the remainder back in its rosewood box and sealed it. Tara wrapped her own wrist and stood.

“How’s that homework coming, sweetie?” she asked Dawn.

“Seeing as I’m not in school, why do I even have homework?”

Tara frowned. “Because you got a C in your math class.”

“I got a C because I didn’t care about math class!” Dawn exclaimed. “I get math, and I’ll try harder next time, okay?”

“Okay. Prove to me that you get it, and I’ll let it go.”

Dawn growled in frustration and stormed up the stairs, and Tara forced herself not to go up and console her. These sorts of things blew over easily enough.

Faith rubbed her shoulder and asked, “You okay, T?”

Tara sighed. “I think I’ve reached my childrearing quota. Biological clock be damned.”

“I always wanted kids,” Faith said. “Boys. Raise ‘em to spit and fight dirty.”

“And if you had girls?”

Faith shrugged. “I’d raise ‘em like a boy.”

Tara laughed.

“That wasn’t quite what I meant, though,” Faith admitted. “That hot stuff on your arm?”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Tara said. “I mean, I’ve had worse.”

Faith leaned against the counter and looked Tara in the eye. “That never should have happened,” she said.

“Things happen.”

“That’s the thing,” Faith said. “They wouldn’t if I were around. I mean, I’m supposed to protect you, right? Buffy never let anyone get away with…”

“Buffy has nothing to do with this,” Tara cut in. “And how do you expect to protect me? By following me around everywhere I go? That’s not something I want.”

“So what am I supposed to do, just let things hurt you?”

Tara looked at the floor. “I guess.”

“Tara, when I came here, I swore I would never let anything bad happen to you, and I can’t just…”

“I’m not your redemption, Faith.” Tara looked up, and stared her down. “Don’t be stupid.”

“You’re my Watcher.”

Tara nodded slowly. “And there are two ways that ends. I wish I could promise we’ll live for a hundred years, but… I love you, Faith. That’s the only thing I can ever guarantee.”

Faith turned away and washed the double boiler by hand. “I miss Buffy,” she said.




The second morning after Willow practiced magic, she nearly fell asleep in her full English breakfast. She murmured to Oz that she could eat a zebra, but only if the zebra were slow and willing to hang around for a while.

“Does everybody go through this?” he asked Natalie. She glanced and Willow, whose head was resting on her folded arms, winced, and left the room. Willow extended a limp arm without lifting her head and pointed at Natalie as she went.

“Take that as a no.”

Oz listened closely for footsteps approaching. He heard nothing but running water in the kitchen and a distant note of music, from some corner or other of the coven, he guessed. They were alone. He hadn’t noticed until this moment how often he and Willow were alone.

“Wil?”

Willow raised her shoulders and planted her elbows, then settled her head in her hands. She sagged in his direction as she spoke.

“No one in the world has ever gone through this. The way I went, with the magic? Most people never turn back from that. I’m not sure I can, either. It takes so much energy to fight it, to reject the power I infected myself with, I can barely even float a pencil. The focus, the cleansing, it’s more than I can take. I feel like I’m getting sick, like…” Her arms gave out, and she dropped her head to the table with a moan. “There’s something inside me, and I don’t think there’s any me left. Not that I really knew what me was without it.”

Oz touched her shoulder, then stood. Willow listened to him leave, then broke down and sobbed. The sound tempted Oz to turn back, but he pushed himself to go to his room, to slip into the kitchen, and only to return to her when he had a steaming pot of tea in his hands. He drained her breakfast mug himself and refilled it with his own brew. Willow was asleep, so he shook her gently.

“Zebra stay still,” Willow grumbled, and when she lifted her head, the knit pattern of her sweater was imprinted across her face. She blinked at Oz blearily.

“Drink this,” he said. “It might help.”

“With what?”

Oz pressed the mug into her hands and guided it to her lips. “Control. I drink it every night, to help with the wolf. It’s sort of like vitamin C, it helps when you’re sick.”

Smiling, Willow said, “We have a lot in common now, don’t we?”

“Drink.”




The tea was foul when cold, but by the end of the week Willow had taken to carrying a hip flask full of it. She considered that it might be a replacement addiction, but it was healthier than magic or coffee, so she shrugged the question off and took a swig before every task the coven set before her.

She also picked up the habit of walking with Oz in the afternoons, down the muddy path that led two miles out from the buildings, to a place where they could hear the sea. Willow babbled about what it felt like to do magic, trying to pin it all down for herself, and rehearsed the history and ethics lessons she was studying in the piles of books the coven had assigned her to read. Some of them were so old the leather binding was cracked, and it crumbled in her hands when she cradled the spine.

“Is it frustrating? Not being able to do the things you used to? I mean, that’s like coming back from an injury.”

Willow shook her head. “I guess, but it’s… My mom had this friend in college who pole vaulted, and one day, he did his pole vaulting thing, and he fell, and he crushed his hand. And, he couldn’t do anything with it for ages, until it healed, and then when it healed… Oz, can you even imagine vaulting again? I mean, he knew then what one little mistake could do.”

“So you panic.”

“The herbs help. A lot. I don’t get nearly as tired, and my focus is way better, but I freak, and I just can’t keep anything in the air, because as soon as I lose focus, I stop. It’s like I’m running with my big ole pole, and right when I should jump, I just kind of stop running. Because what if I jump, and I land somewhere I didn’t intend to?”

“So you panic.”

“Oz,” Willow pleaded, “can you please not try to simplify this? It’s complicated.”

“And I get that,” Oz said, “but I’m just pulling out the parts I can work with, because I don’t know anything about magic, but I know something about panic. I get that.”

Willow slipped her hand in his and beamed. “I remember.”

“Can I help?”

“You do.”




As the full moon approached, Oz seemed distracted, or perhaps alert to something that was distant, and Willow didn’t question him. She talked less on their afternoon walks, so she wouldn’t bother him so much, and tried to focus on pointing out the animal footprints in the mud and the strange bird calls she heard. Her energy level was returning, and she often felt strangely giddy.

“I like you giddy,” Oz would assure her, and he would hold her hand and sing songs that were vaguely familiar.




At nearly midnight London time on Christmas, Willow sat in the West hallway, using the only phone available, and listened to Xander and Anya watch “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” The Snoopy dance, he assured her, would be waiting when she came home.

Willow didn’t tell him she was afraid to come home.




The afternoon before the full moon Oz’s last day in England, and he went with Willow on their walk to the sea, but he said nothing. Willow did everything she could to engage him until the smell of cold salt water reached her. She stopped, stomping her feet to keep warm and contain her frustration, and pleaded, “Oz, say something. Goodbye, or you’ll miss me, or at least that you’re not disappointed in…”

And then at last, she heard what his wolf ears had been hearing for days. A voice, singing the songs Oz had been singing to her, circling overhead and then rushing out to sea. Willow looked up, but all she saw were birds. Her heart felt like it was being dragged out of her chest, westward past the end of the path and farther than she could see, and then she recognized the lyrics.

Veruca. They were her songs, that slutty siren bitch, that…

Willow turned back to Oz just in time to see him break into a steady jog, off the path and toward the sea.

Sirens.

Sliding on the mud, Willow tried to follow Oz, to stop him, reviewing simultaneously the information she’d learned about sirens while studying Greek mythology and the list of possible outcomes if she caught up with Oz.

Sirens are winged women who lure men out to sea. Sources vary on whether or not they eat their victims.

Outcome one: Her touch breaks the siren spell. Not possible. The only way to break the spell of a siren song is to not hear it.

Odysseus had his men plug their ears with wax. Which would be useful if she had any wax.

Outcome two: She covers his ears. She would still be able to hear. She was under the spell, too. Why else would she be running toward a cliff? If they both couldn’t hear, how could they communicate?

If a person hears a siren song and lives, the sirens die. Or go away. Or something. Sources vary.

Outcome three: Oz wolfs out, attacks her, and then continues to run into the sea.

Willow slipped and fell on her face, then scrambled to her feet, making choices as she went. If this didn’t go well, it was her fault. She should have asked what was wrong days ago. The smell of the sea was getting strong, the singing louder. She shouted over it, catching up to Oz just as she ran out of breath. He stopped, and she slammed into the back of him. When she shouted, she didn’t hear a sound. They tumbled over each other and skidded down an embankment. Willow dug her fingers in and stopped herself, and Oz grabbed the hem of her coat and braced himself with his feet.

“Oz?”

He stood up and climbed until he was level with her. He was trying to speak.

“I’m in your head, Oz. I kind of deafened us, but it’s temporary. I hope.”

Oz looked contemplative. “She’s like Buffy,” Willow heard him thinking. “I am my thoughts. I think, therefore she is. Willow is everyone.”

“Pretty sure I’m just me,” Willow started to explain, but a siren hurtled at them from the sky, and Willow rolled and dropped herself to a small rock ledge below them.

Smooth, Rosenberg, she told herself. Now what?

“Wil!”

Oz was hanging over the edge of the embankment, reaching down for her. They couldn’t hear the sirens swooping toward them, but Oz seemed able to smell them. He jerked his head up as one came at Willow’s back, and she grabbed his hand and turned enough to aim a tiny pebble at the bird woman.

When Oz pulled her over the ledge, he had to bat away another siren. Her claws ripped his jacket, and it yanked Willow’s hat off her head. The two of them ran upward, toward the coven, covering their heads with their arms. Sheltered in one of the outlying temples, the checked themselves over and found no injury.

Outside, there was no sign of danger.

“Why aren’t they following us?” Willow wondered.

“Too far from the nest,” Oz answered. “I smelled eggs.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Eggs. Sure, of course. They’re feeding babies and protecting nests. Because they’re mockingbirds, not demons.”

Oz shrugged. “Our lives are different than other people’s.”

When their hearing returned, their ears crackled and popped, and everything felt too loud. They pressed close together while they walked and whispered about how cool it felt to keep your inner cool, and how useful it could be to see, hear, and smell for miles.




It snowed that night, and Willow watched from the window in her room, running her fingers along the string of protective beads Oz had wound around her left hand. The first time she’d seem them, he had been wearing them just this way, on a full moon night like this, explaining what it was like to have a mind-body transformation. Armed with them now, she understood him better than she ever had before. The feelings were potent again, like they must have been before, like they were supposed to be, and she laughed in relief and delight, threw her arms open to the night, and howled.

The thing with most people is, they always either write Willow and Oz as romantic and nothing else, or completely indifferent. What I love is that you honestly portray a friendship here. Between former lovers, yes, but a realistic friendship and wonderful human interaction.

Still, Faith and Tara are still first in my 'favorite friendships' running for this fic.

You've gone so far to portray all sorts of love here: Family, lovers, friendships, even the tentative love of the unsure, and I adore that. This fic is always at the top of my 'recommendations' list, and this is one of the reasons why.

_________________
"If I can't be a good example, might as well be a horrible warning."

"Friendship is obviously magic. Love is a sorta super strong friendship. We gay people love so hard we broke 'Social Norm'. Ergo, we gay people are ultra-strong wizards."

I like the self-discovery and growth that is going on with both girls separately. It is very important that they learn to let go of their guilt on their own and not rely on the other too much. Now... will they come together again fairly soon? I'm ready for some smooching action! haha

I never would have thought of Oz and Willow having this big of a thing in common. I really like how you correlated the two.

Great update, Doll.

_________________
"When Mother Nature starts howling and crying...I smile. I love thunder storms!"

Time Heals All: a Willow/Tara fic with a terrible title

Author: Big_Pineapple

Feedback: Yes, including title suggestions, line edits, and general comments

Spoilers: vague reference to all seasons

Setting: Pre-season six and onward, AU.

Rating: PG-13



Part XXIV: Out of Mind, Out of Sight

“Yggdrasil,” Dawn repeated. “Ig-draw-sill.”

“Yig-draw-sill. That’s what it looks like,” Faith sneered. “I don’t think that’s actually a word. It’s a typo or something.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “A typo they make every time? See, this is why I asked Tara to help me.”

Faith stood up from the dining room table, muttering about how ungrateful know-it-alls were half the reason she dropped out of high school, and stalked into the kitchen. Tara was drying dishes and singing the tune to “Let it Snow” without the words.

“You realize Christmas was over like two weeks ago, right?”

“Doesn’t say anything about Christmas,” Tara told her, but she stopped singing and kept her back turned to hide the blush on her face.

Faith shrugged and jerked her thumb in the direction of the dining room. “Apparently I can’t read, and little sis is in a huff over how to pronounce some stupid word. Yig-draw-sill.”

“Ig-draw-sill,” Tara corrected, and her blush deepened as she remembered her vivid dream from her time in Los Angeles, about Willow and the ash tree.

“Tell her that. I don’t want her rubbing it in.” Faith turned on her heel, grabbed her coat, and vanished out the front door before Tara could think up a reasonable protest. Alone, she took a deep breath and slipped into the dining hall.

“So, what’s the trouble, sweetie?” she asked.

Dawn dropped her pencil and sat back with a huff of breath. “I can’t figure out what this Yggdrasil thing is. It’s supposed to be a tree, right? But it translates to ‘the terrible one’s horse.’ And there’s all this stuff living in it, and it’s on fire, or something?”

Tara laughed and pulled Dawn’s notebook and pencil toward her.

“Yggdrasil is an ash tree. It contains and connects everything.” Tara sketched a tree, with three large roots at the bottom. She labeled one Asgard, one Jotunheim, and the third Niflheim, explaining that these were the worlds that existed. She drew three circles, and labeled them the Well of Wisdom, the Well of Fate, and the Roaring Kettle. “I um, I don’t remember the Norse names. But I remember Ratatosk. He’s a gossipy squirrel, and he lives here.”

Tara added Ratatosk, the four deer, the golden cock, and the beautiful blossoms to the tree, then returned to the bottom.

“The serpents live here. They eat the roots, and the chewing makes the tree shake.”

Dawn examined the picture Tara had drawn and sighed. “Cool. Now can you explain why I have to learn this in the first place?”

“Because it’s exciting!”

For a moment, Dawn just stared at her, and Tara looked away. The heat in her face made her mind wander to the heat of the dream, and she would have done almost anything to get out of this room and hide somewhere.

“It’s late,” she blurted. “You want to get up and go to the airport, right? So, you should go to bed. You can finish this up tomorrow.”

Dawn didn’t hesitate. She snatched her school supplies up and dumped them in her backpack, then charged up the stairs. Tara returned to the kitchen and pressed cold water to her face.




Tara was awake when Faith returned from patrol, and she listened to the shower water hiss and drum, listened to the Slayer collapse on her bed in the room next door. She was already awake when the early morning alarm went off in Dawn’s room down the hall, and she listened while Dawn poked and prodded Faith out of bed, thinking the girl must have learned to whisper in a saw mill.

When she heard them leave, she let the silence soak in, and having given up on sleeping, she rolled out of bed, shambled down the stairs, and poured the last bit of coffee into a mug.

Willow’s plane would be landing any minute now, barring delays. Xander had brought over some art supplies a few nights ago, and he and Dawn had made an enormous welcome home sign. Dawn had been so excited it was impossible for her to focus on anything for long; Tara had been making Faith supervise the homework process all week, because without a watchful eye Dawn would fidget, stare out the window, or just get out of her chair altogether and pace around the dining room.

Faith was more cautious, but her random, anxious questions about what “Red” would think of their living situation, what she must have been doing for the past month, and snarky comments about her “vacation” signaled to Tara that she was invested in Willow’s return as well.

Tara sipped her coffee, resting her elbows on the kitchen island. She wondered what she should have for breakfast, what she wanted to do with her time alone in the house. Then she found herself wondering why no one had really suggested she come to the airport. Had they just assumed that because she hadn’t come the first time, she wouldn’t want to now?

Deciding she knew exactly what she wanted to do with her time alone, Tara abandoned her mug in the sink, threw clothes on, dove into her car, and pointed it toward the airport.

It would be an easy thing to explain. She was as curious about Willow’s studies in England as the rest of them. Magic was her primary interest, after all. And it wouldn’t mean all was well, just that there were no hard feelings. They were a team, and a team sticks together.

Tara froze when she entered the airport, gaping like a fish. She was completely at a loss about where she should go from here. To her left, a string of doors just like the one she’d come through swished open and closed, and people rushed in and out of them. A large group with a redhead in it shouldn’t be hard to spot, but it seemed silly to wait here. She should find the others. Sunnydale airport couldn’t be that big; how many people had to fly from here every day, anyway? Fifty?

An announcement blared over the intercom, and Tara jumped. From the Delta ticket counter, a woman eyed her quizzically, and she straightened her shoulders and moved left, where most of the traffic seemed to be heading. A few doors down was the longest line Tara had ever seen in her life, snaking back and forth and ending at two large metal detectors. A policeman glared at her when she craned her neck to see beyond.

“Where would the international flights be coming in?” she asked.

The policeman shook his head. “No internationals. What’s the connection?”

“W-well, she’s a friend, and um. Lots of friends, really. I was s-supposed to meet them here?”

“What city’s the plane coming from?”

When Tara smiled shyly and shook her head, the man pointed. “Most folks come out that way.”

By the time Tara arrived, the only person who’d come in from London was waving a ripped claim ticket in the air and shouting at an employee about a bag he’d lost.

She got home in time to pretend she’d never left.




The Trio parked their van in front of the airport and used their antenna to pick up the conversation Willow and her friends had. When they confirmed that she was returning to her parents’ house, they scrambled to install a camera on the balcony outside her old bedroom. Her presence and the study of her behavior occupied them for a couple days. Jonathan and Andrew were distracted by the fact that Willow had performed a small, simple spell, and Amy was pouring over her mother’s old spell books in an attempt to comprehend the extent of Willow’s renewed power.

Warren moved a television into his workroom so he could pretend he was putting on a performance of invention for an enraptured crowd.

“Turn that off,” he ordered when he finally picked up the velvet-lined cardboard box that held the stolen diamond. “It’s time for the finishing touch.” The little group watched him sit back at his table and open the box.

Warren held the stolen diamond and watched it glitter for a moment before settling it in a cradle on the body of a ray gun. He snapped a domed lid over it, then lifted his hands and rolled slightly away from the worktable.

“That’s it, it’s finally done.” Jonathan and Andrew pressed close to look while he continued. “It still needs a trial run, but it’s…”

“Kinda clunky-looking,” Jonathan interjected.

“What?”

Andrew nodded solemnly. “I was picturing something cooler. More ILM, less Ed Wood.”

“Or at least something remotely concealable,” Amy suggested from her lounging position on the futon.

Warren snatched up the gun and waved it in the air. Jonathan and Andrew backed away, and Amy looked engaged.

“You want to see cool?” Warren shouted. “I’ll show you cool!”

“Oh look,” Amy sneered, “You made him mad, and now he’s going to do something manly and stupid.”

Warren swung the ray in her direction, then aimed at a swivel chair across the room. Maroon light lashed out of the muzzle, and the chair was suddenly gone.

“Mama,” Jonathan whispered, and he and Andrew crept toward the empty space, pawing at it.

“Did it? Is it?” Jonathan spluttered.

Andrew nodded. Amy sat up and studied Jonathan as he fumbled forward and settled in the invisible chair. For a moment, he expected to fall, but the chair held, and it squeaked and swiveled when he turned it.

“Hey, I’d call that a successful test!”

Warren shook his head. “That was only half the test.”

The gun blared, and Amy and Andrew scrambled out of the way as Jonathan howled in protest, but Warren aimed the gun and fired anyway. The chair reappeared, leaving Jonathan visible and unharmed in it.

“You penis!” he snarled, jumping out of the chair and advancing on Warren.

Warren shouldered the gun. “Oh cheer up, Frodo. Thanks to my brains and our mystical gem, we got ourselves an invisibility ray. And I’d say that makes us pretty much unstoppable.”

Amy smirked, but she said nothing.




The third day after Willow returned from England, she began to feel like a human being. She woke up while it was still morning, stumbled into her parents’ kitchen to pour herself a bowl of cereal, and stood in a hot shower until her fingers pruned. Wrapped up in her bathrobe, she combed out her hair and used a hair dryer on it, and was horrified to see the shaggy, split-ended mess it had become.

“Geez, when was the last time I got a hair cut, anyway?” she muttered. Tara had trimmed it for her once after Buffy had died, but that had been over six months ago.

She leaned against the edge of the sink and let the thought of Buffy hurt her. Pain was understandable, and important; numbing was bad. It was still new to her, though, that the trade-off for being able to feel happy again was being able to feel truly sad.

When she looked up at herself in the mirror, she grinned. “Self,” she told herself aloud, “It’s time to get ourself fixed up.”




The Trio and Amy parked their van in an alley off Main Street and piled out. Warren was clutching a duffel bag with the invisibility ray protectively to his chest, listening to Andrew and Jonathan mutter about Amy’s presence.

“What if she tells on us? We could get in trouble.”

“But she’s gonna open the door so it doesn’t look weird when we come in. And Warren’s paying for her wax job, and if we’re invisible, how’s she gonna know if we watch?”

“Shut up!” Warren barked at them. “This is it.”

The three boys stared through the plate glass window of the Venus Health Spa, which was labeled “for women only.”

“Bikini wax Wednesday?” Amy said, reading an advertisement. “That’s what gets you hot?”

“Hey,” Warren said, pulling out the invisibility ray and glaring at her. “We’re professionals.”

Andrew glanced away from Amy’s condescending smirk and caught a glimpse of bright red hair.

“Uh, Willow!” he warned.

Warren was suddenly alert. “Where?”

“There. Heading this way.”

Amy turned to study the redhead, and Warren watched her as she rubbed her hands together, staring with cold, unblinking eyes. When she turned those eyes on him, her expression shifted from hatred to surprise. Warren’s hands were empty. The two of them rounded the street corner and found Jonathan and Andrew beside the van, grappling with each other for possession of the invisibility ray.

“I need to be invisible!” Andrew hissed.

“I need it more than you!”

Warren stepped in to intervene, but he wasn’t sure what to do. Snatching the thing away from them was risky, but what they were doing was worse.

“Watch it!” he scolded. “Don’t push the…”

Amy dropped to the pavement when the ray started whirring and sparking. Jonathan and Andrew both tossed it in Warren’s direction, but he panicked, yelping, “I don’t want it now!”

Jonathan staggered under the sudden burden of the ray’s full weight, and the pulse of maroon that shot out of it whipped across the block, erasing a dumpster, a pylon, a fire hydrant, and Willow.

“Oopsy,” Andrew squeaked.

Amy was the first one in the van, and she nearly ran over the others’ feet as they scrambled to pile in after her. She scraped the entire side of the van along the fire hydrant as she sped away.




Anya nearly shut the apartment door in Willow’s face, and she screamed when Willow spoke.

“Geez, I’m not that scary,” Willow grumbled. “Almost getting hit by a car? Again? That’s scary.”

Xander heard her voice and came out of the bedroom, calling, “Wil! It’s nice to… see you?”

Willow shrugged. “First time I didn’t see myself, I thought I’d turned into a vampire. Which doesn’t make sense because, hello, sunshine, but still, vampires? Much more common than invisibility.”

“Look, Wil,” Xander started, clapping his hands together, “Sorry if you’ve been feeling a little ignored lately, but…”

“It’s not a Marcie deal. Something went through me, like I got turned inside out, or the paint layer of me got stripped off, all that’s left is Willow voice. And the matter part, of course. I’m still here, still Willow, just, you know, invisible. Maybe it’s some kind of demon spell thingy.”

Xander shifted from foot to foot, trying to choose his words carefully. “Maybe. Or maybe… Do you think it’s a bug or something? Giles said the training you were getting wouldn’t be finished when you came back, so hey, what if…”

“You think I did this to myself?” Willow cut in. “Where in the frilly heck did you get that idea?”

“Well, you know, getting back on the horse, new tactics… Spells went wacky all the time when you first started, right? And now that you’re back in the saddle, it might take a little while to… adjust to… I mean, it might get a little out of hand if you were to… And we haven’t seen you at all for a couple days. ”

Xander could hear the frustration and hurt in her voice when Willow answered, and only the fact that he couldn’t see her stopped him from reaching out to her in regret.

“Oh sure! I’m doing magic again, so I must be running around willy-nilly seeing how much I can get away with before I lose my grip. I guess it wouldn’t matter if I fell off the wagon completely, since you’re already convinced I’m making pit stops!” She stopped shouting, and Xander and Anya could hear her take a deep, ragged breath.

“Look, I had nothing to do with this,” she continued, “and I’m gonna gosh darn prove it. You can’t see my resolve, face, but it’s looking at you. And this conversation has made me lose my inner cool, so I’m leaving now.”

The door opened and slammed, then opened again and, after a sheepish pause, closed gently.




Faith was still rough and ready when Tara ran out of energy and sank onto the floor of the training room, panting.

“Thought you had that whole earth-energy stamina thing going, T,” Faith teased.

Tara smiled. “Doesn’t mean I can compete with Slayer strength, sweetie.” She pulled herself up from the floor and hugged the sweaty Slayer. “You’ll be okay if I go home and clean up for the day?”

“You bet,” Faith said, tapping her under the chin with a boxing glove before whirling on the punching bag. Tara watched her for a moment in awe.

That’s the Slayer, she thought. My Slayer.

Anya had closed up the Magic Box early for a nooner with Xander and never returned, likely because she’d been caught up in the assorted wedding planner gear she’d taken with them when they left. Faith had blasted in the door and immediately started harassing Anya about the color of the brides maids’ dresses, asking if she really expected her to put something like that on. Anya had informed her that she wasn’t part of the wedding party, and Tara had dragged her into the back room before the two women had come to blows. She had overheard Anya proclaiming loudly that if she left the wedding accoutrements in the shop, Faith would likely destroy them out of spite. Feeling the force of Faith as she sparred with her, Tara guessed she was right.

She’ll be fine by herself here, though, Tara assured herself as she fumbled for the shop door key. She knows better than to do anything stupid over things that Anya says.

“Tara?”

Tara whirled around, but there was no one behind her.

“Over here.”

A full circle revealed no one, and Tara started backing toward the Magic Box door, opening it with magic as she went.

“Tara. Tara, wait, don’t OW!”

Tara had felt a solid mass under her foot, and her body had brushed against something. She leapt back, reaching into herself and looking with her mind’s eye. What she saw took her breath away. A solid flow of energy wound its way upward from deep under the ground, extending in fractals from two distinct points, probably channeling charms. The aura at the top of the energy flow was pure and steady, and the entire entity pulsed and quivered with life.

It was the ash tree from her dream. Yggdrasil, the tree of life.

“Willow?”

Willow’s disembodied voice sighed and answered, “Thank the goddess for your second sight.”

When Tara didn’t move or answer, Willow squirmed under her gaze and asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Huh? Oh, no, I-I just um,” Tara shook herself and blinked, washing out the image she’d been staring at. “W-why are you invisible?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Willow said, and Tara could imagine her rocking on the balls of her feet in excitement. “I went to get my hair trimmed at the Mane Street salon, and when I walked out, poof! I was invisible. Some other stuff went missing, so I thought if I took a look at them, maybe there’ll be clues! But, I need spray paint, and I can’t buy it because I’m invisible, and so’s my money, so...” She trailed off and searched Tara’s face for any sign of understanding and mercy.

“Why would you pay for it when you’re invisible?”

“Tara!”

Tara blushed, but she pushed ahead. “If I were invisible, I’d go joy riding in Hummers so people would think they were possessed and stop buying them.”

Willow laughed wildly, and Tara smiled at her shoes. She gnawed her lip and looked sideways, and the sweetness of the gesture made Willow sober and fidget with restrained desire.

“Come on,” Tara murmured. “I’ll buy you some paint.”

She climbed into her car and watched the passenger door open and close before reaching to pull her door shut.

“Three days here and already having adventures. Welcome back to Sunnydale,” she said.

“Looks like you had one while I was gone.”

Tara paused, looking quizzically at her invisible passenger, and she felt a gentle touch on her arm. Glancing, she saw that her sleeve had slid up when she reached, revealing the beginning of the raised purple scars on her wrist.

“N-not much of one,” she said, and she cranked the car and drove.

Hurt, Willow pulled away and stared out the windshield.

For a few blocks, the two of them sat in the car, listening to Faith’s favorite radio station on full volume, until Tara turned it down and asked, “So um, how was England? Was it like, cold, with snow and stuff?”

“It snowed sometimes,” Willow answered, “and it was definitely cold, but it rained a lot, and it wasn’t always below freezing, so mostly it was muddy. I don’t know what I’m going to do about the hems of my pants.”

Tara smiled, but her eyes were focused on the road. “I miss snow sometimes. We used to get it in the mountains.”

“Did you go sledding?” When Tara nodded, Willow began to babble about how much she’d loved sledding, because she’d never done it before, and started to make wild gestures before remembering that Tara couldn’t see them. She laughed at herself and sat quietly again. Tara relaxed slightly, until she brushed Willow’s invisible elbow on the center console when she reached to change the radio station.

Faced with an enormous aisle of spray paints, Tara craned her head back and asked, “Did you have a color in mind?”

“Mostly I was working on the forensic side of the thing. You know, like checking for fur or footprints or something?”

Tara nodded, running her hand along the cans. “The greens are nice.”

Willow picked up two cans and held them side by side, comparing the colors of the caps. “Do they have any with glitter in them? I like it when the paint’s all shiny.”

Tara passed her a can of metallic green, holding as little of it herself as possible to avoid another accidental touch. Willow held all three cans in her hands for a moment, then tossed one to test the weight and balance.

“Watch this,” she told Tara, and then she started to juggle. “I was all ‘no magic no way’ when I got to the coven, so for concentration, one of the witches taught me how to do this.” She spun around and caught one can behind her back, a trick that was lost on Tara. “Michael had me juggle sometimes when I was telling him about scary stuff, because the focus on other stuff made talking easier.”

“Michael?” Tara asked. “Michael who?”

Willow shrugged and spun again. “He never said. I guess he’s kind of like that, though. I hardly know anything about him except that he really loves his sisters.”

“Lissy and Rosetta?”

“How’d you know?”

Tara turned away and studied the cans of spray paint. She started turning each one precisely forward and centered on the rack to distract herself from her discomfort. “I met him in Los Angeles, helped him negotiate with the Powers that Be? I um, I don’t think I did much, really, but… He just sort of vanished, though, after a while. Cryptic advice, nice company, and then nothing.”

“What kind of advice?”

“He said I was good with troubled kids.”

Willow grinned. “Like Dawnie and Faith.”

“M-maybe. Why was he in England? To find you?”

“I guess,” Willow said. “Oz said he kind of just shows up where he’s needed.”

“Oz?”

Willow stopped juggling and looked at Tara, who had suddenly opened her mind’s eye and was studying her closely. She proceeded with caution, explaining her new friendship in as non-intimate a way as possible, and avoiding altogether the fact that she emailed him nearly every day.

“And he works for Rosetta?” Tara clarified. “He knows she does dangerous business, right?”

“He says he tries to keep her out of trouble,” Willow answered. She shook the worry off, and the hurt of not having been told everything there was to know about Rosetta. Oz had no reason to tell her everything. When she tried to restart her juggling act, she dropped a can, and the cap shattered on the concrete floor.

“Whoopsie daisy!” she said, and her good mood returned when she saw Tara smile at the floor. “Guess that’s the one we’re buying.”




The invisibility ray’s malfunction had set Warren to planning every sort of improvement while he assessed the current damage. Amy stood behind him, her body quivering, and watched.

“A couple of circuits are burned out, and the wiring’s fried,” he announced.

“But you can fix it, right?” Jonathan asked.

Warren shrugged and turned to them. “All we can do now is pray. And pick up replacement parts at Radio Shack.”

“But we had so many plans!” Andrew wailed. “Naked women and…” he caught a look from Amy and faltered. “Other stuff. This is your fault. If you hadn’t grabbed it from me…”

Jonathan glared at him. “Hey, we got a lot bigger problems, bonehead. Willow’s invisible now.”

“He’s right!” Andrew announced to an audience that was already informed. “She could be anywhere. Even here. Right now. Watching. Listening to every word we say! For all we know, she could be one of us!” He twitched and scrutinized everyone and everything in the room. Warren and Amy exchanged a smirk.

“I wouldn’t sweat the Wicca bitch too much,” Warren said, turning back to his work table.

“Says you!” Jonathan snapped. “In my book, an invisible witch means a world of trouble.”

“Only for now. Eventually she’s gonna fade away, and then we won’t have a problem,” Warren said.

Amy cocked her head in interest. Jonathan looked baffled.

“What do you mean she’s gonna fade away?”

Warren started pulling fried wires out of the invisibility ray. “Willow got slammed with a big ass dose of radiation when the gun overloaded. Her cells are mutating at an accelerated rate. Eventually her molecular make-up will start losing its integrity and…” He made a poofing sound and flicked his fingers in the air.

“Presto,” Amy whispered.

“But, wouldn’t that kill her?” Andrew asked.

“Well let me think. Yeah.”

Jonathan was frantic. “Wait a minute. We’re not killing anybody!”

“Not even her?” Amy looked disappointed.

Warren spun around and glared at the two boys in disgust.

“Geez, you guys are so immature. We’re villains! When are you going to get that through your thick skulls?”

“We’re not killers! We’re crime lords!”

“Yeah!” Andrew agreed. “Like Lex Luthor. He’s always trying to take over Metropolis, but he never kills Superman.”

Warren looked like he’d just jumped in a frozen river. “Because it’s Superman’s book, moron!”

“How about we just get this little toy of yours working again, and then we’ll talk about what to do with it,” Amy cut in. Warren glared at her, but she winked. “I think there’s a way to make everyone happy about this.”




Tara came home at nearly sunset, and Faith met her at the door.

“Where the hell you been? I thought you were going home,” she demanded, hugging her and then pulling away. “You smell like a dog, girlfriend.”

“She does not,” Willow protested, and Faith’s senses went into overdrive trying to find her. A floating computer bag and glittery green pylon followed Tara into the house and drifted into the dining room.

“Willow’s invisible,” Tara explained when Willow said nothing. “Based on the black paint and tire print we found at the scene, we’re guessing the Nerd Herd has something to do with it. So now, we’re eating dinner and strategizing about how to find them.”

Willow opened her computer bag and setup her laptop. “Assuming me eating food doesn’t result in a disgusting invisible anatomy lesson.” She was hoping her computer work might ease the ache she felt watching Faith and Tara together. Lovers or no, the two women had an easy understanding between them, the likes of which she might never have with Tara again.

Faith blinked, then shrugged. “Whatever. Dawn’s doing homework at her desk, ‘cause she says she works better up there. Screw me if I know the difference. Any clue where to start looking for those guys? I mean, we hit all three houses on patrol at least once a week.”

“I’m running their names through records for apartments, hotel rooms, and warehouses in town. If nothing comes up there, we can check the electricity grid and see if any abandoned houses are getting power. Besides Amy’s place.”

Tara caught the briefest of reactions to Amy’s name flicker across Faith’s face, but she didn’t ask questions.

“I’m going to check on Dawn. Could you start on the vegetables, sweetie?” she asked instead, and at Faith’s nod she headed upstairs.

Dawn volunteered to observe Willow for any grossness, and listened with glee while Willow swished water around in her invisible mouth. When Dawn reported no sightings, it was agreed that both Willow and everything that went into her were invisible, the four women moved the computer to the top of the cabinet beside the table and settled down to eat. Tara observed that Willow’s appetite was larger than she’d ever seen it. Faith spent most of her time trying to hit the invisible girl with peas, and when Tara told her to stop, she insisted it was Slayer training.

“You have to be able to hit a target you can’t see, right?” She grinned wickedly when Tara shook her head, and loaded another pea onto her fork. “Hey Red, open up and say ‘ahhh.’”

Willow complied, and was surprised when Tara slapped her gently right on the shoulder.

“Don’t encourage her,” she scolded. “I’ll never get her house broken.”

Faith flung the pea at Tara instead. Willow launched one of her own in retaliation, dropping it straight down the Slayer’s cleavage. When Faith jerked her arm to protect herself, her elbow rammed into the glittery green pylon.

“Ugh! God, that is sick!”

A moment passed in silence as everyone stared at the gaping hole in the pylon, and the hideous slop Faith was scraping off her arm.

Willow stood up to examine the mess, and Tara leapt up so quickly her chair fell over. Second sight to guide her, she grabbed Willow and started running her hands over her head, face, and arms, then down.

“Tara?” Willow said. “What are you doing hands! Hands!”

Ignoring Willow’s surprise, Tara crouched and slid her hands from the curve of her bottom down the backs of her legs, then over her feet.

“So far, so good,” Tara stated as she stood. “It um, it might take more time because you’re bigger? Thicker.”

“It might not happen to me at all. I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m not made of plastic. Hey, we could go back to Main Street, see if anything else has gone all gooey, or…”

Tara shook her head. “Dawnie, get the potions for a locator spell. We can’t waste time trying to logic our way through this.”

“Okay, time may be a little bit of the essence,” Willow said, rubbing the string of beads on her left hand and clutching the charm around her neck in a struggle to keep herself calm. “But are you sure magic is the way to…”

Tara looked at her with a mix of annoyance and panic so potent it almost made Willow cry. “I’ll find a map,” she said. Once in the living room, she fumbled with the invisible hip flask in her pocket, took a long pull from it, and chanted soothing prayers in a quiet, shaking voice.

“We need to clear the table,” Tara said, and Faith reached for a few dishes, but Tara swept her arms in both directions, cramming all the plates at one end of the table and knocking the pylon off the other. The pylon splattered on the floor like a pumpkin, and Faith stared at it while Tara started yanking open the kitchen drawers in search of a lighter.

“Can you chill, T?” Faith asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because!” Tara snapped, standing so sharply she nearly pulled a drawer out of its frame. “She’s dying, Faith.”

Faith leaned against the kitchen doorframe. “I got that. But…”

“But what? Should I not be upset? Did you think, even for a minute, that I wouldn’t care? That I don’t love her?”

“Can you get your head out of your own damn freak-out and listen for a minute?”

Tara stood still in the middle of the kitchen, and Faith walked past her and pulled a lighter out of a cabinet. “You’re the one who deals with this shit. You’re five by five, the man with the plan, right? And right now, you’re freakin’, and what am I supposed to do?

“You’re gonna go out there, and you’re gonna pick a fight. Hell, you probably already have a plan. All I have is you, and if you’re freaked, I’m freaked and I… I can’t go out there when I’m like this. Demons, sure. I’ll wring that damn hellcat’s neck. But these are people you’re going after. And if it meant protecting you, or this family… I don’t know what I’d do, T. You’re the one who’s gotta tell me.”

Gently, Tara slipped the lighter out of Faith’s hand, and she pulled her close. They stood with their arms around each other until Dawn appeared in the doorway.

“Can you get me the mortar and pestle?” Tara asked, and Faith obeyed.

A few chants and the last drop of her calming tea later, Willow came into the room, looking calm and composed. Tara spread the map on the table, lit candles at the corners, and offered her half of the potion.

“No way,” Willow said. “I’m sorry, but I’m not up to that level yet, and besides. I don’t really know what happens when other people’s power gets mixed up with mine, and I’m not finding out now.”

Tara nodded and passed the potion to Dawn.




Warren squinted in the low light, weaving changes into the repairs and working quickly so the other boys wouldn’t notice.

Jonathan squinted out the small window in the door of his parents’ garage, watching for signs of movement in the yard.

“Why do we have to work here?” he whined. “I have really bad memories of this place now, and it’s making me nervous.”

Warren rolled his eyes. “She’s staying with her parents a few blocks from here, so we can get there quickly. And if she’s looking for us, we don’t want her to find us at Amy’s place, do we?”

Andrew fiddled with the tools on the wall. “You don’t think Amy’s double-crossing us, right? Telling Willow where we are? I mean, she showed up right after Faith did, and now we’re walking around and she disappears.”

“She just wandered off,” Warren snapped. “Stop worrying about it.”

“Maybe she went to find her dealer,” Jonathan suggested. “I mean, I think she does drugs.”

Warren smiled at him. “And I think you’re an idiot. We all have our opinions.”




Willow’s energy pulsed with anxiety when Tara stopped the car across the street from the Levinsons’ house.

“I don’t like this,” she said. “I mean, what if they’re in there? There’s only one door, so they’ll see us come in, and…”

“Why would they see us?”

“Because we’ll be coming in through the door!”

Tara chuckled. “Willow? You’re invisible.”

“Oh yeah.” The car door opened, and Tara heard the soft noise of Willow’s shoes hitting the pavement. “I’ll come out as fast as I can, okay?” she said, and then the car door shut, and the sneakered footsteps retreated.

Tara sat with her arm on the windowsill, drumming on the steering wheel and searching for the Big Pineapple in the stars over her head. She considered turning on the radio, but the sound might draw unwanted attention, and she had just decided that she didn’t care and started reaching for the dial when she heard Willow screaming her name. In the dark, her aura glowed like fire, speeding towards her, and she had the invisibility ray in her hands. Behind her, three other auras were shouting and trying desperately to catch up. One of them was getting dangerously close.

Leaping over the passenger door and into the street, Tara shouted the locations of the Trio to Willow. The boy on Willow’s right blew past her, aiming for the enemy he could see. Willow threw the invisibility ray when the boy on her left collided with her. Tara caught it and spun, smacking the boy who was charging her with the butt before she could think.

The boy staggered back, shrieking, and for a moment Tara couldn’t move. She’d hit him in the face.

“Don’t do that!” Warren’s voice echoed. “You’re gonna break it.”

“Tara!” Willow yelled, and she was back in action, scrabbling for a handle on the boy who’d tackled Willow to the ground. When the third reached her, she took hold of the arm he’d extended to throttle her with and tossed him aside. He hit the car door with a painful thump, and Tara flinched. Willow clawed her way on top of the boy she’d been wrestling with and pinned him, snarling, “Jonathan, you little weasel!”

“She can see us!” Andrew wailed, pressing invisible hands to an invisible nosebleed.

Warren pulled himself to his feet and lunged, howling, “I’ll get you, bitch!”

Tara caught him as he came and twisted him to the ground, then put one foot solidly on his chest. Andrew moved to defend him, but she looked directly at him and stopped him in his tracks. Warren grabbed her leg, and she bore down on him until he gasped.

In the streetlight, the knife Tara pulled from her belt glittered.

“How does it work?” she demanded.

Warren instructed her on how to flip the proper switched and cock the invisibility ray, and the cradle of the diamond began to spin. Tara stood straight and aimed, but Willow jumped out of her sights.

“Wait!” she said. “Them first. I don’t trust him with his own toys.”

Tara nodded and turned the ray toward Andrew, staring him down as the energy built in the weapon. Warren was perfectly still under her foot. She dropped her sights down so the invisibility ray was pointed directly at his face, and he spluttered, “Don’t do that!”

She shoved the weapon down at him, shaking. “You’d let me shoot him?” she asked.

Warren adjusted the settings on the ray, and Tara snatched it from him and aimed again. When she pulled the trigger, Warren’s pale, sweat-covered face appeared, and she stepped off him and zapped the two other boys. Jonathan rabbited away, but Andrew was still rooted to the spot, clutching his bleeding nose. Tara winced.

“I’m s-sorry,” she said.

Andrew screamed when he felt the invisible Willow touch him.

“Hold still,” she ordered, and after a second, the bleeding stopped, and the blood that had already gushed out dried and flaked away.

“Now get out of here,” she said. Tara stepped away from Warren, and the two of them sprinted in different directions and vanished into the dark.

“Well,” Willow said. “I think that calls for a victory dance, don’t you?”

Tara was trying to shoot her with the invisibility ray, but her aura was bouncing around in a circle, chanting, “We win, we win, lalala lala la!” Laughing, Tara told her to stop, and when the ray was fired, a bouncing, hand jiving Willow appeared, grinning with her tongue between her teeth.

Relieved and uncertain how to show it, Tara sighed and tossed the invisibility ray into the back seat and opened the passenger door for Willow. For a while, they rode in silence.

“It was sweet of you,” Tara finally said. “To fix his nose?”

Willow shrugged. “You didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“I um. I think I’m picking up on some of Faith’s habits; fighting makes me hungry. Think we should pick her and Dawnie up and g-grab some ice cream?”

When Willow turned to look at her, Tara met her eyes and smiled.




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They're so close!

The bad news, though, is that it's become clear to me that I can't update once a week. From now on, I'll be aiming for about once every ten days. Sorry for dragging it out.

I can't wait to hear from everybody; it feels like it's been ages.

Enjoy,
Kay

YES! I've been waiting for this.

Glad to see the progression between them, really. Just sitting here, biting my lip in anticipation waiting for their next tentative moves. Also, I've told you before but I love Jealous!Willow.

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"If I can't be a good example, might as well be a horrible warning."

"Friendship is obviously magic. Love is a sorta super strong friendship. We gay people love so hard we broke 'Social Norm'. Ergo, we gay people are ultra-strong wizards."

Great update! I like how you are incorporating the actual episodes with Buffy still being gone.

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"When Mother Nature starts howling and crying...I smile. I love thunder storms!"