AN: Thank you! to my awesome beta avadriel. The amazing banner is by Vette Hayden, whom I adore for her generosity. Last but not least, a huge thank you to everyone who reads. Hope you enjoy it.



Chapter Two

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She flicked a lock of hair out of her eyes. Sweat plastered small tendrils against her skin. She tapped a stake against her leg, staring down at the pile of dust. Seeing but not comprehending. Her thoughts were on another vampire. One with bleached hair and a wicked, lazy smile. One who had to be seriously pissed off by the dustings at the Bronze she had done two nights ago. Honestly, she was surprised that she hadn’t seen any sort of retaliation from Spike yet. An increase in attacks. A surge in the Sunnydale bloodsucking fiend population. Anything. But all remained quiet. Or as quiet as it ever was.

Two nights since William the Bloody trailed his hand along her thigh. A shiver crawled up the back of her neck. Their next meeting would be very different. Less with the buying of drinks and more with the fangs and pointy objects.

She wondered if he would put two and two together, realize it was her. More than that, she wondered why she almost wanted him to. She wanted him to know it was her. Buffy was tired of hiding in the shadows, of dusting minions that didn’t have a fighting chance. She wanted to fight him. She wanted it so bad excitement curled in her gut.

Buffy blinked and glanced at her watch. Only eleven. Still a couple hours to go before it was time to head back home. She heaved a weary sigh. She had an anthropology exam tomorrow and hadn’t really studied for it. As in, she hadn’t studied at all. She made a face. The stuff was so boring anyway.

Speaking of school work. Time to do a quick patrol through the campus and various dormitories. With another sigh, she turned and started the trek toward the university. College kids, she’d discovered, were a pain in the butt to protect. They were always out and roaming around at all times of the night, getting themselves attacked by evil things.

Her sneakers crunched through the grass. It had been a long, dry summer.

In the distance, rounding the corner of the library, was a man with his back to her. He carried no books or backpack or coffee. Her grip tightened round the stake, and she followed on swift feet.


----

Tara made a great vampire, in Spike’s opinion.

She wasn’t a moron like most of the masses. And though she may not be a brawler, she was scary as hell.

Case in point.

Tara was pressed against her old lover, all voluptuous curves and velvet-covered malice. She had Willow up against the window of some sciencey student lab room, blinds crackling underneath the girl’s back. One hand twined through her red hair, the other held her chin, holding her in place, maroon red nails gleaming in the fluorescent lights.

“Shh, shh, shh… it’s alright,” she crooned, full lips pouting. “We just came to have a little chat.”

Spike leaned back against the close door, arms crossed, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Go away,” Willow whispered, eyes closed. Her voice was soft and tired, like she’d already given up. And maybe she had. Who could blame Willow Rosenberg for giving up after all she’d already been through?

Tara smiled with barely subdued glee. “No,” she said sweetly. She trailed a slow finger down the girl’s cheek, relishing the shuddering heaves of breath that shook her fragile, mortal body. “What’s got you so upset, baby? Relax, I’m here, I’ve got you.”

“What do you want?” Willow tried to make the words come out strong and steady. She really did. Instead, they were more like a choke.

“We just want to know what you’ve been up to lately. Made any new friends, perhaps?”

Willow’s heart sank. They knew. They knew about Buffy. Willow knew the second Buffy called she should’ve just hung up on her. She should’ve hung up immediately. “Wh-what do you mean?”

It was ironic really. In death, Tara had lost that old stutter. Now, bringing it out in others gave her a delicious thrill.

It would be nothing, however, compared to tasting her old lover’s blood. Or so she imagined. Tara spent hours planning the different scenarios in which this would occur. All of them ended in a hot rush of blood on her tongue, unbearably sweet, yet laced with electric, raw power.

“Now, now, sweetie. Don’t play dumb. It’s one thing you were never good at. Tell us about the Slayer.”

“I – ” Willow took a deep breath. “I don’t know much. I only met her once.”

Spike rolled his eyes, a flare of irritation going through him. His patience was rapidly disappearing. Nothing new, that. “What does she look like?” he barked. “What’s her name? Where does she live? Who’s her Watcher?”

Willow licked her lips, trying to focus on Spike and not Tara. Spike scared the bejesus out of her, but looking at him wasn’t quite the crippling stab to the heart that looking at Tara was. Tara, whose dyed blonde hair was up in an artsy bun. Her skirt a satiny cream, with a teal knit scarf falling over one hip. Tara, whose fingers were skittering sporadic designs on her stomach, her nails sharp like delicate cat claws. Willow knew if she could get Spike to leave, Tara would go, too.

“Her name is Sara. I don’t know her last name,” Willow said, her voice wobbling only slightly. Spike said nothing, simply stood with arms crossed, regarding her through narrowed eyes. “She – she’s young. Like sixteen or seventeen. In high school. She’s dark. Hispanic, I think. She – ”

With a roar and burst of speed, Spike was across the room, game-faced and golden-eyed. His hand slammed against the blinds next to her head, his fangs bared. Willow couldn’t stop a small scream of fear. “You’re lying to me, witch,” he snarled “I am going to let Tara braid your fucking entrails if you don’t start singing the truth like a good little bird real quick like.”

Willow was terrified. Now she had not one, but two vampires at her throat. Her clammy hands scrabbled at the window ledge. She had to hold onto something. And that’s when she felt it. Little particles singing beneath her fingertips. Pieces of earth, mixed in amongst the manmade materials that built the wall at her back. Tiny, small pieces, but there. And numerous. And usable.

Behind her back, Willow’s hands flattened against the wall. Earth wasn’t an element she had experimented with a whole lot up to this point. But she had read the spells. Had studied them just like she studied everything else. And really, there was no time like the present. Energy flowed from her hands into mortar and plaster, catching and charging the bits of metal and sediment and stone it found full of power. She just needed a few more moments.

“Buffy. Her name is Buffy.”

Spike looked at her incredulously, one eyebrow arched. “You’re not lying. Pity to her then.” He snorted, and pressed on. “A blonde,” Spike demanded.

She just needed a couple more seconds. She had to make sure she got this right, that there was enough power. Willow rapidly nodded her head. “Yes, and short.” Some expression other than menace blazed in his eyes, then faded as quickly as it came, leaving her wondering if she was just seeing things.

“What else? Where can I find her?”

Willow flexed her fingers against the wall and felt her power flex with them. Clenching her jaw, she met Spike’s eyes straight on. “I don’t know. But when I see her, I’ll tell her you said hi.”

Tara’s grip tightened around her. “What are you – ”

Willow didn’t let her finish. She focused her will like a sledgehammer. “Kalik ona roch!”

Like a blast of dynamite, the wall exploded outwards, taking the window, part of the floor above, Spike, Tara, Willow, Willow’s hearing, and a small mountain of rubble along with it.

-----

Buffy was just going past the auditorium when she heard the shatter of glass. She stopped in her tracks, head jerking around. It sounded like it came in the direction of the science buildings. Grip tightening round her stake, she took off at a sprint.

Tearing around the edge of a building, trainers pounding against the sidewalk, Buffy almost fell over when she skidded to a sudden stop. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting but this wasn’t it.

Lying in a pile of debris and glass that explained the brand new hole in the side of the building was Willow, Spike, and some other vamp. Illuminated by the fluorescent light from inside the lab, the three lay unmoving in a tangle of limbs, covered in dust. Buffy stared, brain synapses not translating the scene before her fast enough.

Spike’s hand flexed against a chunk of wall. It curled at a funny angle. His wrist was broken. Buffy fixated on his leather-clad back. Do it, she thought. Do it. She raised the stake. A low moan sounded, and her hand froze. Willow shifted against the rubble, wincing as she struggled to open her eyes. A bloody scrape marred her left temple. Beside her, the other vampire moved, causing the window blinds beneath them to snap in protest.

Buffy shoved her stake into the waist of her jeans. First things first, get Willow to safety. Gingerly picking her way around the vampires, she bent and unceremoniously hoisted Willow over her shoulder into a fireman’s carry. Her strength was more than a match for it, but her small size made it awkward. Holding on tight to the girl, she turned and started jogging toward the dorms, wanting to get out of the area. The faster the better.

The girl moaned again, followed by a small, croaking voice. “Bu – Buffy?”

“I’ve got you, Will. You’re safe. We just, just gotta get out of here,” Buffy huffed, gulping in air.

“Down. Put me down.”

Against her better judgment, Buffy complied, bending to let her roll against the ground as gently as possible. “We gotta get moving, Will. They’re gonna be back in the land of the conscious super fast.”

Willow clutched her stomach, gut churning from the combination of the blast and bouncing against Buffy’s sharp shoulder. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Vomit later. Safety now. Where’s your dorm?”

Willow blinked, trying to clear the dust from her eyes. “Um…”

“Willow.” Buffy seized her shoulders, voice firm. “Where is your dorm?”

“Rhoads House,” she croaked. “Number twelve.”

“Good. Now, c’mon.” Buffy slipped her arm around her, underneath her underarms, and hoisted her to her feet. The Slayer allowed herself a quick look over her shoulder. No sign of the vampires yet. Good. She started into a jog, half-dragging Willow. The girl was moving as quickly as she could, but it was clear the blast had left her worse for wear.

The dormitory loomed ahead in the darkness, door lit up by a light post. “Where’s your card key?”

Willow gasped for air before answering. “Back pocket.”

Using the hand not holding her up, Buffy dug into Willow’s jeans, coming up triumphantly with a white plastic card. She waved it in front of the door’s electronic lock and felt a surge of relief when it buzzed open. Slayer stamina was amazing, but her arms were getting tired and her lungs starting to ache. Quickly pulling Willow through the door, Buffy paused, allowing them both to catch their breath. Even if Spike did track them back here and break in, he’d still have to get an invite into Willow’s room. And she didn’t think he’d really want a confrontation with a broken wrist. Master of Sunnydale and Slayer of Slayers, or not. One whole hand out of commission was a bit of a downer in a fight.

She tightened her grip around Willow and started down the hall. “That was close, Will. Really close. How in the world did you end up in a dusty dog pile with two vamps? One of which being the grand vamp poobah of Sunny D?” Stopping in front of number twelve, Buffy dug her hand back in Willow’s pocket. Pulling out a key, she fitted it into the lock. “I mean, really, ‘cause it looks like it’s going to be a good story.”

Willow said nothing as Buffy ushered her into her dorm room and re-locked the door. She stood, face turned down, hidden by the dark.

Buffy groped for a light switch in the unfamiliar room, jarring a lamp with her elbow in the process. Giving up on overhead lights, she caught the lamp in its slow teeter and clicked it on. A low, warm glow lit the room.

“Willow?” Buffy reached out and brushed the girl’s short red hair away from her face. Tears wet her cheeks, her pale skin was turning blotchy. “You’re crying! Are you okay?” Buffy did a quick sweep for injuries she might have missed, looking first at her neck, then the rest of her body.

Willow gave a sharp, jerking nod. “I – ” A great hiccupping sob cut her off. Willow finally looked up, brown eyes full of misery. “I miss Tara,” she cried out, her fists clenched and trembling.

Buffy blinked. “Oh. Okay… who’s – ”

But Willow wasn’t listening. The tears wouldn’t stop, she was sore all over, her body absolutely drained from the spell, and her heart hurt. Her heart throbbed. Instead of a steady drumbeat, it was a wrenching lurch. “I miss her. I miss her and I need her. I don’t know if I can do this, if I can be here without her, n-not when she’s still walking around like that.”

Slowly, eyes wide, Buffy began to realize who the other vampire had been. The woman with the tangle of long, blonde hair.

“She’s not here, but that thing is, and I can’t help it, I love her. It doesn’t even matter that it’s not really her, I still love her.”

Guilt flared up in Buffy. It came on like a blush, coloring her cheeks. And she didn’t know why. Or rather, she kind of did. Buffy pulled Willow into her arms, holding her tight. Her tongue felt thick. What could she possibly say?

“Shh,” she crooned softly. She ran her hand over the girl’s soft red hair. “Shh…”

Willow’s voice died down, turning her cries into plaintive whispers. “I miss her. I miss her.”

For the second time in as many days, Buffy didn’t know what to do when it came to vampires. Her cheeks stayed flush, and she held Willow until the tears stopped falling and her body stopped shaking.

She held her for a very long time.

----

“What do you mean he knows who you are?” His words came out very even, very controlled. Like a parent making sure they heard their kid correctly before letting them have it.

Buffy fidgeted with the psych book in her arms. “Well, he doesn’t know everything about me, but he knows what I look like, and he knows my name.”

Wesley stared at her, jaw tight with anger. “You didn’t test Willow’s charm before you went in? You’re lucky you made it out alive.”

She shook her head sharply, temper starting to flare. “I did,” she said forcefully, “and it worked.”

Wesley took off his glasses and leaned back in his office chair, arms crossed. “Then how exactly did he find you out?”

“He didn’t really find me, so much as put two and two together.” There. That was close enough to the truth, right? Willow had been so upset last night, she didn’t need a dose of Watcher’s wrath, too. Buffy took one look at her Watcher and rapidly backpedaled. “Okay, okay, I think he just figured it out ‘cause as soon as I left, vamps went poof.”

“How exactly did he know you had left? He wasn’t supposed to know you were even there.”

Buffy took a deep breath. How was it that this man could make her feel all of eight years old? “We were kind of talking.” She was wincing before she even finished the sentence.

“Now, I really must be misunderstanding you,” he said sarcastically. “You were ‘kind of talking’ with William the Bloody?”

“It’s not my fault! I was just at the bar, scoping out the place, being all undercover Buffy, when he just came over and…started…hitting on me,” she finished lamely.

He looked at her, saying nothing, and then buried his face in his hands.

“Uh, Wesley?” she asked hesitantly.

A snort of bitter laughter was muffled by his hands, and he sat back up. He didn’t look at her. Instead, his eyes focused, unseeing, on his broad desk. “Of all the idiotic things to get you killed, it’s his bloody libido that does you in.”

A chill ran through her and she stood up straight. “Hey,” she snapped. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’m not dead yet, you know.”

“You’re not ready to face him,” he said, matter-of-factly. “He’ll kill you.”

Buffy hugged her books to her chest. “If you decided not to write me off just yet, you’ve got my number. I’ll be out there killing the bad guys.” When he said nothing, she closed down completely. “I guess Watchers have the luxury of quitting. Not the Chosen One though. We still have to do our job.”

She turned and walked out. Wesley never looked up from his desk. How do you look at a twenty-one year old girl you know is going to die?

----

Buffy pushed her French fry through the ketchup mindlessly. Her gaze flitted upward to settle on the normally perky redhead sitting across from her. Today she was subdued. Better than this morning, when Buffy had left her dorm room. Definitely better than last night, when she’d finally gone to bed, tear-stained. But still not quite her usual self.

“You must really hate me for dragging you back into this, huh?” Buffy asked, not quite meeting her eyes.

Willow stopped slurping at her soda and fiddled with the straw. “No,” she said firmly. “Buffy, I was a part of all this before you came. I was ‘dragged into this’ the first time Kendra saved me from a fang-filled death. I may not be Chosen like both of you were, but I’m in it just the same.” Willow smiled slightly. “I could’ve gone to college anywhere. For a while, I was thinking Oxford. But in the end, I stayed in Sunnydale.”

Buffy shook her head in disbelief. “How? How could you choose to live like this?”

Willow’s eyebrows knit together before her expression cleared once again. “Now that I’ve seen how things really are…how could I do anything else?”

Buffy nodded and shoved the fry in her mouth. “Right,” she mumbled. She could very easily see how a person could turn their back.

Willow looked at her knowingly. “Don’t forget, Buff. You’re not the first Slayer friend I’ve had. Even if Kendra was very…different. But, it’s okay to wish for a normal life. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Buffy stilled. “Is that what we are? Friends?” she asked, guardedly.

“Of course! I mean,” Willow blinked, and a sudden shyness gripped her. “Unless you don’t want – ”

“No!” Buffy cut her off. “No, I want. I want very much.”

“Well, then,” Willow said happily, straightening in her chair, “Now we’re officially friends.” She held up her soda cup.

Buffy nodded, brightening, smiling. “Friends,” she pronounced, and they tapped sodas together before noisily finishing them off.

“You know what my first act as an official friend will be,” Willow asked with a smile.

“What?”

“Keeping you awake in psychology!”

Buffy rolled her eyes as they both got up, clearing away their trash. “Ugh,” she moaned. “You and I may have very different ideas of friendship.”

Willow just laughed, and the two of them strolled across the quad, chatting happily as they went.