Two more chapters after this one!



“Tara, Tara, Tara…” Dawn was sobbing on the floor next to the dead girl. Xander had his arm around her and was rocking her gently. Faith was watching somberly as Angel tried to yank the bullet out of her arms with tweezers that Buffy vaguely remembered bringing him. She couldn’t think of much else. Spike was gaping in horror at the image on the floor, Buffy’s arms wrapped around him from behind. Anya stood silently in the kitchen doorway, clutching something so tightly in her hand that Buffy couldn’t tell what it was. And Willow…Willow was missing.

“Willow,” Buffy said faintly. Most of the others, too frozen with shock, didn’t hear. Only Angel and Faith did, and both turned to look at her grimly.

“She’s not-“ Faith began, but then an ambulance came squealing to a halt outside the house, sirens blaring, and they were all distracted.

“Who…who called for help?” Dawn asked brokenly.

Anya stared at the phone she still held in her hand. “Oh. I did.” She went to hang it up, her eyes still fixed on the body as she backed away to the receiver.

Then paramedics were running inside, bending over Tara and Faith. Faith shook them off. “I’m fine,” she snapped, pulling away. “Come on, Buffy. We need to…go take care of that other thing.”

“Right,” Buffy said hastily, peering past the men to stare at Tara. Sweet, innocent Tara without a bad bone in her body and more than enough love for everyone. She didn’t deserve this.

“We’ve got her!” one of the men shouted to the ones by the doorway. “Get the stretcher, we only have a minute or two before her heart fails again!”

Again? Stunned with disbelief, Buffy spun to gape at the body. Tara’s chest was heaving with short breaths as she was revived, and for an instant, her eyes shot open and focused before closing again.

Dawn dissolved into sobs of relief, reaching for the witch. Xander held her back so the men could do their job, gathering Anya into his arms, too. Spike was weeping unabashedly. Buffy wanted to join them, but moments after she shed her first tear, Faith was tapping her shoulder with her unharmed arm. “Come on.”

“We’ve lost her!” She heard the cry but wouldn’t process it, not until the greater threat was taken care of. Instead, she followed the other slayer out the back door. “We can’t let them see me,” Faith reminded her. “They’ll try to hospitalize me, and we don’t have time for that.” She climbed over the fence, crying out when she hit the side of her bad arm midway.

“Did Angel get the bullet out?” Buffy asked, worried at the state of the other slayer.

Faith shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Even so, Buffy tore a long strip from the bottom of her shirt as they ran and tossed it to her counterpart. “Magic Box or the trio’s lair?” she wondered.

“Seeing as we never found out where they were hiding out…” Faith pointed out. Her eyes widened. “Except Willow does. She found it when she was looking through their files, but we figured that it wasn’t important since we were going to catch them anyway.” She staggered to a halt, breathing heavily from the pain.

“Crap.” Buffy took the cloth from her and wrapped her arm tightly. “Well, maybe she went to the Magic Box first. Gather more powers, or whatever…”

“She doesn’t need anymore to kill Warren,” Faith said grimly. “But she might be looking for something worse than her usual repertoire.”

“This is just getting better and better,” Buffy muttered gloomily, breaking out into a run again.

But the Magic Box had already been looted by the witch. The door had been magically torn from its hinges, and books were strewn everywhere. Buffy picked one up and started, confused. It was completely blank, the pages an untouched white, as though all the words had been sucked clean from the book.

“She did this last time, too,” Faith said quietly. “Only to a few books, though. This time…” This time she’d taken them all.

Buffy turned urgently to Faith. “Where was the nerd lair? Can’t you remember anything?”

Faith shook her head. “Dammit!” she raged suddenly, slamming a hand against the table, tearing it to shreds with just the one hit. “She was getting better! She was finally herself again!”

Buffy paced back and forth, thinking hard. “Call Dawnie. See if she can get onto Willow’s computer and find out what she knew. Wait!” A thought occurred to her. “Warren, he’s not going to stick around. He attacked the slayers! If I were him, I’d be halfway out of town by now.”

Faith nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Anya’s car is probably still parked out back. Let’s go.”

“You have the keys?” Buffy asked doubtfully. She couldn’t imagine Anya trusting anything of value to anyone else.

“Buffy.” Faith flashed her a cocky grin. “Does it matter? It’s me.”

--

Xander, Anya and Dawn had left with the ambulance as Spike watched helplessly from the shade. He shook off the last of his tears and moved back to the living room to pace with impatience.

“Can you stop doing that?” Angel demanded.

Spike ignored him.

“I said, stop it, boy!” Angel roared, grabbing him and tossing him against the wall. He slid down and sprang up, swinging at Angel wildly. Angel took the hit and jammed his fist into Spike’s chest, leaving him panting and bloody on the ground.

Spike did the only thing he could in this absurd situation, with the closest thing he had to a sister dead and his lover out alone, he unable to help her while she tackled an out-of-control witch. He laughed hysterically, uncontrollably, in a tone just a hair too wild to sound sane.

When he finally paused, Angel leaned against the wall, irritable. “Are you done yet?”

Spike glared at him balefully. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Of course I do!” Angel growled. “She’s out there with a bullet in her arm!”

Spike gaped at him. “I’ll be buggered. You really do care about Faith.”

“And Buffy!” Angel clenched a fist. “From what I’ve heard, Willow’s had a vendetta against her since she came back. When she finishes with that bastard-“

“You think I don’t know that?” Spike demanded incredulously. “You think I wouldn’t go kill Willow myself to protect her if I didn’t have this damn chip in my head?”

Instead of responding, Angel studied him thoughtfully.

“What?” Spike snapped, stalking closer to his sire confrontationally.

“You really do love her,” the other vampire said wonderingly. “This isn’t some rebound thing from Dru. You really mean it.”

Spike scowled. “Well, yeah. Where’ve you been?”

“It’s just…” Angel ran his fingers through his hair uncomfortably. “I guess if it had to be another vampire, at least I know you’ll take care of her,” he conceded grudgingly.

“Thanks ever so,” Spike said sarcastically. He didn’t think he could take this until sunset. Sun…Angel. Sun…Angel. If I didn’t have Buffy to worry about, I’d probably have killed myself already.

--

Buffy clenched the steering wheel with both hands, pushing her foot even lower on the accelerator. “Tell me when to go right!”

“Right! Now!” Faith yelled, hanging onto her seat with all her might. “Slow down, Buffy! Where the hell did you learn how to drive?”

“Uh…Now? Don’t worry, I’m a quick study!” Buffy said reassuringly, turning the wheel abruptly. “Whoa! Probably should’ve slowed down on the turn!”

“Give me the wheel!” Faith yelped, trying to grab it with her good hand. Unfortunately, it was also the arm that was further away, and her mad grab was cut short when her twist slammed her injury into the back of the seat. “Damn, damn, damn!”

“Stop moving, you’re going to hurt yourself!” Buffy warned her as they pulled out of Sunnydale, her eyes glued on the bus ahead of them.

“You stop moving, or you’ll kill us both!” Faith retorted. Her eyes bulged as she glanced ahead. “Stop the car, stop the car!”

Buffy slammed on the brakes, sending them both flying and stopping the car inches behind the suddenly halted bus. Both girls unbuckled and raced out of the car to survey the scene ahead of them.

Willow stood in front of the bus, waiting impatiently for her target. Buffy gaped. Her eyes were a dark, empty blackness worse than ever before, and her hair had reverted to its old dark-magic-black. Worst of all, though, were the black veins that bulged from skin so white that it took on a nearly deathly pallor. Those she’d never seen before. It was almost as though the magic had infected her very bloodstream, creating its own vessel in the grieving girl.

“W-Willow?” Faith said shakily. “What happened to you?”

Willow barely glanced at them. “Good, you’re here. Saves me another trip.”

Then Warren was stepping off the bus, a hopeless look on his face. The two slayers charged forward, and Willow froze them in place with a hand. She tilted her head in disapproval, and quick as a blink, she’d grabbed Warren by the throat.

“Please,” he pleaded. “I’ll do anything.”

Her lip curled in disgust.

“Willow!” Buffy shouted. “It’s okay! Ta-“ Her throat suddenly closed up and she couldn’t breathe for a moment.

“Don’t say her name,” Willow hissed, and squeezed Warren’s throat. Electricity sparked, and an eyeball popped out and rolled on the ground.

“Of course!” Faith muttered from beside Buffy. “Robot Boy!”

Buffy wrinkled her brow. “Was he always a robot? Shouldn’t we have known this?”

Faith rolled her eyes, turning back to Willow. “Will, it’s okay! Tara might be okay!”

Willow glanced away from them dismissively. “I’ve got a frozen slayer that says otherwise.”

For the first time, Buffy realized that she was in the grasp of Willow’s magic, and a cold dread settled over her. Tara had said that the wards would work…for as long as the caster was alive. There was no hospital for her, no second chance at resurrection or a return from heaven for the gentle Wiccan. “Oh my god, Tara,” she whispered.

A sharp wind blasted at her face, sending shards of dust and glass across her cheek to cut bloody slices down her face and neck. “I told you not to say her name!” Willow snapped, and then she disappeared in a whirl of energy.

Faith and Buffy stared at each other worriedly. Finally, Faith cracked a bleak smile. “My turn to push the bare midriff look,” she decided, yanking a strip of cloth from her shirt to wrap it around Buffy’s neck. She dabbed at the blood on her face gently. “I won’t take it all off. Leave it as a present for your boyfriend.” Buffy stared at her. She shrugged. “What? You don’t think Spike’s favorite time of month wasn’t-“

“Okay.” Buffy held up a hand. “Really, that’s enough.”

Faith smirked. “Aren’t you uptight? Come on,” she said suddenly. “Maybe Anya can do a locator spell for us.” She slid into the driver’s seat before Buffy could get there.

“No.” Buffy scowled at her. “Hospital first. You’ve got a bullet in your arm!”

“Forgot.” She started the car, making a wild u-turn with her right arm. “No, we’re going to the house. We need Anya, and something of Willow’s. It’s just a bullet, I can handle it.”

Tara couldn’t, Buffy thought blankly, worry for her sister slayer making her sick to her stomach. I can’t lose another friend.

“Look.” Faith rolled up her bloody sleeve. “The wound’s already closing. Hurts like hell, but I’m not going to bleed to death.”

“Let’s just go,” Buffy ground out, worry making her irritable. Hopefully, Angel would finally be able to pull out the bullet.

--

Angel drummed his fingers against his knee, glaring at his errant childe’s newest attempt to drive him up the wall. Every five seconds, Spike would yank open the curtains to see if the sun was down yet, and then he’d stand, bathed in the setting sun, until he was smoking from its harmful rays. Then he’d jump back, wait a few seconds, and start again.

Angel was tempted to beat on the other vampire again, but the last time he’d tried that, Spike had started humming sea shanties. And that was far more irritating. And a bit less entertaining.

He didn’t blame Spike, though, not for his obvious worry over Buffy. He was concerned, too. Because he suspected that, given the choice between losing her life or killing a human, Buffy might just choose death. Not that he really knew her anymore.

He wasn’t sure what had happened. Had it only been the passage of time, or had it been Spike’s influence? Either way, Buffy had been distant from him from the start, and it hadn’t taken him long to deduce that she didn’t want him anymore. It had taken a bit more time for him to realize that he didn’t want her anymore, either. Because she wasn’t the playful teenager he’d loved, not anymore. Angelus, his death, and her self-imposed exile had seen to that. This Buffy was mature, composed, and worlds away from him. He didn’t know what she saw in Spike, but he did know that she had made the right decision. Because this Buffy really did make decisions for herself, and whatever she decided she made right.

And then there was Faith. He sighed deeply. He hadn’t known what this had become, hadn’t known if it was just some rebound thing from spending so much time in hell, but Faith…he’d only known her for a week, and already, he’d felt a deep kinship with the girl. She knew the darkness that Buffy and hell, even Spike, who had been full of light and life even as he’d murdered thousands, had never really touched, and she lived on that edge with him. He knew that she’d killed before and that she’d been tempted to do it again. He knew that she loved hunting down demons far more than was healthy, even for a slayer. They both lived in darkness, even as they fought for light, and for meeting her, more than anything else, he was glad that he’d returned to Sunnydale.

And then there was that miserable little creature, waving a gun at the one thing had been making his unlife bearable lately, and he’d wanted to kill that slime, regardless of the human heart pumping within him. He’d been struck with the terror of losing her, his first true friend in centuries, and he’d known then that whatever he felt for her was real, even in its infant stages.

“Spike!” Buffy’s cry jolted him back to the present, and his head snapped up to look for Faith.

“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy,” Spike was murmuring, kissing at the bloody cuts that marred her face. “Love you so much…”

“Love you too. More than anything…” She burrowed her head into his neck, tears spilling from her eyes. “Tara’s gone,” she sobbed, and then Spike was weeping too, and Angel couldn’t bear to break up their moment to inquire about Faith, not yet.

And then he didn’t have to, and she was walking through the doorway with her blood-soaked shirt and a worried frown on her face, and he thought “what the hell?” and kissed her breathless.

--

Xander wrapped his arms around Anya and Dawn for what seemed like the millionth time that night and let them cry away their sorrows. He hoped that Buffy and Faith, at least, had caught up to Willow and saved her from herself. The night had had enough tragedy. Tara…oh, Tara, forever lost…

He tightened his grip on his girls. He had to be strong. For all of them, he had to be strong.