Tempus Fugit – Absolute Zero

Willow pulled the comforter over her head in attempt to speed up the warming process. She had crawled into bed fully-clothed trying to escape the cold. And it wasn't really that cold, she reminded herself. It was only in the mid-forties. No one was going to freeze to death in Sunnydale. Still, it was definitely not warm and Willow Rosenberg was not the frolic-in-the-snow type.

Nope, much more of a curl under the covers kinda girl, she mused. It was so much nicer under the covers with the light filtering in all blue and orange with a little bit of pink from the sheets. Yep, much better under the covers. Still, frolicking in the snow might not be so bad if she could come back to bed and warm up with someone nice and snuggly. Plus, there were snow angels. Tara said she liked to make snow angels when she was little and Willow imagined ghostly, ethereal sculptures carved from snowflakes and ice with flowing hair and sky blue eyes. And curves.

She sighed and pulled the covers back from her face. It seemed she spent most of her time trying not to think about the blonde witch. On the second day after The Day that Must Not Be Mentioned she had remembered a few meditation techniques in an attempt to quell the overwhelming, body-wracking spasms of grief and anxiety that seemed to hit her at the worst times – like the Scooby meeting. She winced at the memory of snapping at Xander then returned to the meditation technique. The idea was to empty your mind…but not forcefully. If thoughts intruded you were supposed to acknowledge them and gently sort of push them aside. She tried. Really hard. But thoughts of Tara were like some self-replicating virus that could take down her processor in a matter of minutes – filling up everything with Taraness.

So that hadn't worked. And neither had the whole reverse-bumping-into thing. All of that calculating to avoid Tara and she found herself desperately hoping the blonde would defy her analysis and turn up unexpected. It was the only time in Willow's life that she could remember actually hoping to be proven wrong. So far, her calculations were terrifyingly and disappointingly accurate.

The only thing that seemed to work was bed and sleep. And she was having the best dreams. And not just the Tara spicy dreams…although those were definitely of the good. And bad, because, hello, no chance of making them a reality. But it was the less spicy ones that woke her up with a bittersweet smile: vivid dreams of hand-holding under the table at Scooby meetings; Tara's fingers threading hypnotically through her hair as Willow's head rested comfortably in her lap; stealing smooches in the Magic Box of all places.

It was as if in sleep she had the relationship with Tara she hadn't even dared imagine – full of love and passion and trust. Something perfect and all hers. And Tara's.

And she really wanted to go back there, but there was the cold research Giles expected. She scowled at the stack of magick books and pulled the comforter up to her chin. Maybe there wasn't any connection anyway and she would waste hours of possible sleep time researching. They didn't know if this was an evil ice cream demon intent on bringing the Rocky Road Apocalypse or just some sort of weird weather coincidence.

But there was a way to find out she realized with a smile. Pulling her laptop from her bag without moving from her warm spot, she began to search through the weather reports for Sunnydale and the surrounding areas. It looked at first as if it was just some slow cold front, but her scientific mind immediately saw the improbability of the too-regular drops in temperature. Not to mention that fifty miles out of Sunnydale in any direction the temperature rose to its normal seventy degrees. So, yes, definitely some sort of Hellmouth-y weather weirdness.

Great. She made another face at the leather-bound books and looked at the clock. Her first class wasn't until one o'clock so she could, theoretically, take a nap and still have time for research.

Closing the laptop with a snap, Willow snuggled down into the blankets and let herself drift off with the blue-eyed snow angels.

That wild thing inside her was growing restless. An hour of wandering around cemeteries and she had only staked one vamp. There had been no sign of the slippery demon with the shiny stick thing. Of course, this could have something to do with the fact that Anya had insisted on going along and the blonde hadn't stopped talking for more than three seconds.

"Look, no offense, but have you guys ever heard of stealth?"

Xander looked sheepishly at Anya whose mouth still hung open from her endless monologue. He looked back to Buffy, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Sorry Buff."

"You're sorry!" Anya huffed. "This Slayer," she said contemptuously, "Just rudely interrupted my story and you're apologizing? To her?" With her hands on her hips the ex-vengeance demon stared down her now cowering boyfriend. "She should apologize." She pointed at the Slayer without averting her icy stare.

"An, we're supposed to be patrolling…" Xander began to whine and Buffy rolled her eyes in frustration. She had had about as much as she could stomach of this entire scenario. First she had given up her 'Riley Time', as Xander insisted on calling it, to accommodate their schedule and now they were wasting even more valuable minutes having a very loud argument. It was getting harder and harder to rein in the Slayer inside that wanted a very physical confrontation at this point.

"Guys! Hello! Not helping in the whole stealth department…" she began gesticulating wildly only to be interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

"Looky, looky. What do we have here? A couple of tasty blondes and, well, Craig you can have the dweeb. He's more your type."

"Hey! He's not a dweeb…" Anya retorted automatically and Buffy felt her spidey senses kick into high gear as the girl's eyes suddenly went wide. "Oh. See!" She motioned to the newly arrived vampires and graced Buffy with a smug smile. " Stealth with vampires," she lectured, "Not really a priority since we're their…." At that moment the vampires – three of them she noted internally – decided to lunge and the last word was distorted into a surprised high-pitched scream as Anya was knocked to the side by Xander. "Prey!"

Even before her stake sank into the chest of the first vampire, Buffy felt a sort of glorious relief. She needed this badly and not just for the Slayer thing. This was uncomplicated and easy – despite the risk to life and limb thing. When everything else in her felt so hopelessly out of control and confusing she could count on slaying to reduce everything to the basics. This, after all, was what she was meant to do.

Focusing on the fight she extended her senses a bit to make sure that Xander and Anya were out of harm's way before returning her attention to the two remaining vamps smiling evilly at her, the faint moonlight reflecting off bared fangs.

"Oooh, looks like we've got ourselves a spicy one Todd. What do you think she tastes like?"

"Like chicken?" she answered then grimaced. She was definitely not on her game tonight. The main vamp was looking at her with a quizzical expression and his minion just stared ahead blankly. "You know, 'cause everything tastes like chicken?" It came out as more of a question than a statement and Buffy cringed remembering that Xander and Anya were here to witness her very un-Buffy-like like gaffe. She would never hear the end of this. It would be Kentucky Fried Buffy jokes for the next three weeks at least.

With a sigh she lunged at the dim-witted minion using a precisely timed set of moves she had been working on for the past few weeks. It was probably a little too complicated for a real fight, but these two didn't look like too much of a challenge. Besides, she had to punish them for making her look bad.

A reverse handspring and she hit him with two feet squarely in the center of his chest, knocking him to the ground and sending her into a perfectly executed forward roll. A quick sweep to knock the leader off his feet and she tucked into a quick back flip to straddle the minion and stake him in one easy motion.

The sound of Xander whooping and clapping actually made her smile as she leapt to her feet to confront the other vampire. She hadn't really gotten a good look at him before, but now he stood in the faint light of a street lamp and she felt like she had had the wind knocked out of her. Dark hair, square shoulders, dark trench coat, and that brooding stare as he assessed her.

"Angel?" Her voice was almost a whisper. She had managed to almost completely banish her first love from her thoughts for the past two months and now it all came crashing back into her in a breathtaking tidal wave of pain and anger. And betrayal.

She stood flat-footed, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions, as a roundhouse caught her off guard and sent her to the ground hard.

"So, not so spicy. More tart." He said above her with a sneer and kicked her in the ribs before she could rise. Looking up she could see cruel blue eyes and the differences that should have been obvious before – this wasn't Angel.

Somewhere to her right she could hear the sounds of a heated argument between Anya and Xander. Could hear Anya insisting that the Scooby stay out of the fight. For the first time in over a month, she hoped that the ex-vengeance demon got her way. All she needed was Xander running in to rescue her and inevitably just endangering himself.

Another kick to her face and she tasted blood. That was enough to send the Slayer into a frenzy. Without thinking she kicked into a backward roll and regained her feet, but lost her stake. In a blur of rage she took the Angel clone down with a crippling blow to the side of his knee and followed up with a series of kicks and punches that left him bleeding and prone. But the Slayer wasn't finished yet, with the taste of blood still coppery and warm in her mouth she showered him with punches, screaming in rage and pent-up frustration as her fists landed again and again with satisfying precision. The sound of Xander's voice brought her back to the world of the real and she was surprised to hear her own voice raging about L.A. and true love and broken promises as she brutalized the already unconscious vampire.

Finally slowing her punches she sat still trying to regulate her breathing.

Because this was becoming a little too familiar, this loss of control. It was terrifying. She felt a hard tremor begin in her hands and brought them up to study the shaking with a sort of detached interest. A wooden stake appeared between her and the vampire and she stared at it for a moment uncomprehending.

"I think he's already a check in the win column, Buff. Do you want me to finish him for you?" It was Xander's voice, gentle and worried. She felt the warm pressure of his hand on her shoulder and shook her head. Carefully pulling the stake from his hand she took one last look at the soulless undead thing that wasn't Angel and drove the stake through his chest.

Before the vampire could disintegrate into dust she was on her feet backing away from Xander, apologizing as she hastily wiped the tears from her face.

"Sorry, I don't know…"

"Hey, it's me," he said with sad eyes and a warm smile. "It's okay." But there was more than concern there. She could see something like fear behind it all.

"I'll see you…" she began taking steps backward away from him. "I mean, you know…Scooby meeting. Tomorrow."

His forehead furrowed with concern as he extended a hand to her. "Buffy, are you sure you're okay?"

"Yep! Fine!" But her voice was too shrill. Too perky. "I've just…I've gotta go."

He nodded, his face still full of worry and she noticed Anya several yards behind him standing quietly with her arms crossed.

Okay, I managed to shut Anya up so that must have been quite a freak-out.

With a small wave she turned and forced herself not to run until she was safely out of sight. Then it was all instinct. She didn't even have to think, her feet taking her automatically to the familiar building. But it was after 'lockdown' so she would have to sneak in. Slipping silently through the empty corridors, she passed the 'Visiting Hours 6-9pm' sign and turned right. A familiar set of broad shoulders in the familiar green cotton shirt was visible in the room and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hi Paul," she whispered making the big man jump.

He brought a giant hand up to his chest and shook his head with a relieved smile. "Buffy you scared me to death," he said softly as she shut the door behind her.

"Sorry," she said and hoped that her puffy eyes weren't visible in the dim light of the room. "How's she doing?" she looked to the placid features of her fellow Slayer lying under a hospital sheet.

"Better now that you're here," he said with a smile. "It was all frowns earlier. Until you showed up," he said softly as he replaced an IV bottle. "Of course, you realize that it is after visiting hours and I couldn't possibly," he arched an eyebrow and trailed off.

"I know, I know," she said with a smile. "I am officially breaking and entering without your consent."

Another giant smile lit up his face and he nodded. "I'm just glad you're here for her." He shook his head and looked at the Dark Slayer. "Young girl like that…it's not right." His face hardened and he looked back to Faith. "Whoever did this…" he left his sentence unfinished and Buffy felt the muscles in her jaw tighten in guilt and anger and shame. Because she had done this. But she had managed to forget that and everything else until tonight.

Patting her shoulder he walked past her and whispered a silent, "Good night," leaving her alone in the room with her arch-enemy and the past that never seemed to let go.

"Hey Faith," she whispered and sat down in her usual place beside the bed, marveling again at the fact that she was here at all. If it hadn't been for that dream she would have certainly left Faith here to rot in this hospital. But the dream was so vivid…and undeniable. It had led her here to another secret she was forced to keep from her friends. Because they wouldn't understand. She wasn't sure she did.

Picking at something on the white sheet she began nervously, "So, you'll never believe what happened tonight. There was this vamp that looked just like…"

Part 4

She and Tara were in bed. Naked. It was exquisite and warm and it wasn't even naughty. Yet. The two of them lay face to face just staring at into each other's eyes. Smiling. She could feel Tara's hand on her hip, felt a bare leg rub lightly over her calf. It seemed to go on forever this dream stretching backwards and forward. So warm.

Then suddenly in a violent jerk the scene changed. She was on the floor now, on her knees. Something sticky and warm and she knew already what it was because Tara lay beneath her on the floor, limp and empty. Tears streamed down her hot face and the screaming seemed to come from everywhere at once. And the grief and agony – there was no end to it. It was all over and through her, consuming her burning her self away into something dark and furious.

"TARA!" She woke with a start screaming the girl's name, covered in sweat. It took her a few moments to understand where she was: in her dorm room. Her empty dorm room. At least Buffy wasn't there as usual to hear her scream the blonde witch's name in her sleep. She wiped her eyes clumsily and tried to shake away the terror of the nightmare, but it wouldn't leave. The horror of losing Tara was like nothing she had ever felt. Finally she let it overtake her and sat sobbing in the bed staring at the photo strip of she and Tara through teary eyes.

After a few minutes her breathing finally began to even out and the crying subsided, but she still felt empty. And cold. Yep, definitely cold. The windows were all fogged and several, she noticed, were cracked. Which was strange. Maybe the cold? Glancing at the clock she noticed that the plastic casing was shattered and the digital display blinked 12:00 at her over and over again. Looking to her trusty black wristwatch she gasped in shock.

"No." Her trusty watch, the one that had survived apocalypses and demon attacks, was smashed, it's display now a dull metallic gray. She knew it was ridiculous to mourn a watch, but she loved that ugly thing. It kept perfect time and now she would have to go buy a new one.

Shaking her head she finally checked Buffy's analog clock and discovered that she was almost late for the Scooby meeting.

"Oh heck!" she yelped and jumped shivering from the bed to throw on the nearest clothes, gathering magic books as she went.

As she walked briskly to Giles', images from the nightmare continued to assault her bringing tears to her eyes. The emptiness of it, the loss…she stopped dead in the middle of the street, wrinkling her nose in concentration.

She smiled a genuine smile for the first time in days thinking of her friendship with the shy blonde. It wasn't everything. It wasn't lazy, hazy naked time in bed, but it was so much more than she had ever had in her life.

"Hey Will," Buffy's voice snapped her out of her internal rambling and Willow realized she had somehow managed to walk all the way to Giles' door without noticing. "Smiling Will?" Her best friend said with a confused smile of her own.

"Smiling Will is good," Xander's voice boomed behind Buffy. Willow stepped through the doorway into the slightly warmer apartment. "Whatcha smiling about?" he asked raising his eyebrows again suggestively and Willow sighed dramatically.

"Sex," Anya offered from the couch next to him. "That's definitely a sex smile," the ex-demon continued.

"It is not a sex smile! Just because a person is smiling does not mean sex was in any way…in the way." Willow retorted blushing and waiting for the rest of the explicit monologue, but there was none. In fact, Anya simply crossed her arms and looked away. So something was definitely up with Anya. Great. Maybe she and Xander had a fight. That's just what she needed. Hopefully Xander would pull her aside later to ask for advice. Too bad there wasn't a self-help booking on making up with your ex-vengeance demon girlfriend she could hand him.

"Ah Willow!" Giles' voice cut through the mounting tension and Willow smiled gratefully. "You rang about some sort of discovery?"

"No fair Giles," Xander began with a little too much enthusiasm and she eyed his shifting stance. He kept glancing at Buffy then away. "Now we don't get to hear Willow naughty thoughts."

"Precisely." Willow began removing books from her bag as the Watcher sat down with a cup of tea.

"Okay, so I was researching anything to do with Ragnarok even though my Old Norse is pretty much non-existent…" she began, leafing through pages to find the entries she needed.

"Wait? Anorak?" Buffy asked and she heard Anya sigh dramatically.

"Ragnarok!" the ex-vengeance demon interjected angrily. "Don't you people read? Doom of the gods, end of the world, blah, blah, blah." She huffed before hugging herself tighter and looking away. Okay, maybe Buffy and Anya had a fight. Were they dating now? Blinking in confusion she decided to return to the research and avoid the volatile emotional undercurrents in the room.

"Um, exactly." She said and Anya actually smiled at her a little. "Only before the big nasty battle of the gods and the giants there's the Fimbulvetr, the winter of winters, which is just a fancy way of saying three years of serious frickin' cold." She paused to search for a bookmark and opened the giant book to a Norse print of the final battle. Lots of impaling, axing, and the usual gore. Buffy shrugged unimpressed and Anya's smile widened a bit.

"So you think this nasty weather is really the Big Chill or whatever?" her best friend asked and she nodded.

"It's quite possible," Giles interjected. "Although the legend is common, I've not been able to find any reference to when, where, or how the Fimbulvetr begins."

"Actually," Willow thumbed to a cracked piece of parchment and handed the book to the watcher. "I found this prophecy that seems to refer to some ancient sect of Priests of Fenrir who say it starts on the Hellmouth." She pointed to a badly damaged passage. "See there, 'and the Fimulvetr will rise from the land of heat and the mouth of hell'" His finger ran over the passage and she could hear him reading the Old Norse aloud trying to translate on the fly. "And then, as far as I can tell something about a 'broken spell' or something." She tilted her head to look at it again. "Or maybe a Spell of Breaking?"

"Hmmm, I think 'broken spell' may be the more accurate translation," Giles began absently. "but my Old Norse is rather rusty…."

"Okay, so who's Fenrir and do his priests carry icy wandy sticks?"

Willow looked up from the tome to meet her friend's hazel eyes. She could hear Giles clearing her throat so she asked quickly, "Unabridged or Cliff's Notes?"

"Cliff's. I'd like to get out of here sometime tonight," Buffy smiled. Willow actually smiled in return suddenly sad that she didn't have time to talk to her best friend about everything. Tara and the dreams.

"Okay, Um, Fenrir is evil wolf god guy who kills Odin, king of the gods, in the final battle. And I don't know about the sticks."

"Ice wands," Any interjected angrily with a scowl. "They carry ice wands. And don't ever try to talk to them about Fenrir unless you've got, like, a week to kill." She shook her head with disgust and returned to her brooding.

"Are they dangerous? The ice sticks?" Buffy asked testily, pointedly emphasizing the 'sticks'.

"How should I know? I told you, I try to avoid those guys. Deadly boring. All they want to talk about is how great Fenrir is. Fenrir this and Fenrir that. Who cares!" she threw up her hands and stared intently at Buffy. There were a few moments of tense silence and Willow wondered again what was going on between the three of them.

"This is good right!" Xander yelped nervously and Giles looked up with a quizzical expression. "I mean, we know what this is, who the bad guys are. So…stop the guys with the icees and it's over. Easy as pie right?"

"Well, if Anya is correct the connections appear to be more than coincidental. So, yes. Possibly. Well done Willow," he smiled, pulling his glasses off.

"You're welcome!" Anya huffed rising from her chair. "And I am correct." Without another word she walked to the apartment door and left. Xander apologized over and over, glancing nervously at Buffy before following her.

As the door slammed behind him, Buffy rolled her eyes and released a long sigh. Willow thought there might be an explanation from her best friend or at least a snide remark about Anya's mood, but…nothing. Shivering, she sank down onto the couch suddenly noticing the cold. So she had accomplished something today with the prophecy, which meant maybe she could get away with a research-free night tonight so she could plan how best to approach Tara.

"What time is it?" she practically yelled at the room.

Giles glanced at a clock behind her. "Quarter to ten, why…?"

But she was already grabbing her books and bag and running for the door.

Sometimes she thought she could feel it crawling around inside her – the demon. Moving under her skin, sliding into her mind to darken her thoughts. But today it was different…that lightening. She found that she could push it aside, drive it back with relative ease. Just a bit of controlled breathing and a few thoughts of Willow or Mr. Giles' kind words full of hope and the world seemed to open up around her. It all seemed to be tied in to that lightening she had noticed. As if the world wasn't tied to one dark path – as if it had broken free of its original course and was free to follow any path.

Of course, there was still the rest of it to deal with. With a heavy sigh she looked to the stack of tomes Mr. Giles had thoughtfully carried up for her that were now scattered around the room and open on the bed. Hours and hours of work and she had promised to help research the cold as well. Which made her smile. Mr. Giles actually wanted her help. He trusted her with his books and the cold problem. Someone who battled daily against the forces of evil had asked for her assistance. Her smile broadened and she pulled the nearest book to her. There was no Table of Contents, but she was used to that. These were, after all, ancient books. Flipping through the pages she saw the familiar typeset of a sixteenth century press and skimmed over the attributes of a particularly fierce-looking demon: 'vicious and driven by an insatiable lust for blood….' She shivered and closed the book with a wince deciding that she wasn't ready yet…to face what she might become.

Breathing deeply she began to center herself in a meditation. It was even colder this morning and she could almost see her breath in the crisp air. Tomorrow, maybe, she would allow herself the heater. If it got colder. But now, the meditation. Thoughts of Willow flickered in her mind as always and she let herself linger on the redhead's smile for a few moments before calmly centering herself once again. If she was going to help them she was going to have to regain her focus.

It took a few more minutes, but she finally found that floating place and opened up her senses. What she felt surprised her. It wasn't the usual warmth and play of energies she was used to. Instead there was a bone-chilling cold and the unmistakable sensation of something pulling on her – draining energy from everything around her. She contemplated following it to its source to get some idea of the power they were dealing with, but stopped herself. That could be dangerous. Or deadly.

With a gasp she brought herself back to her dorm room. She didn't have an anchor and as experienced as she was with magic, she had spent very little time in the nether realms. She would need a partner to go farther and Willow was as far from her now as she had been before that Wicca meeting. As she recalled the injured look on the redhead's face, the distance between them seemed almost insurmountable, but…one step at a time.

Rifling through her bag for a few moments she found the spiral notebook and opened it to a list color-coded in different colored pens. She had never been one for list-making, but the fact that this entire mission was devoted to Willow made her rethink her processes. Tara was trying to connect everything in her world in every way possible to the beautiful redhead who lit her heart. Like a spell, she wove her love into the fabric of her life.

With Willow-like neatness she crossed out the first item on the list: 1. Speak to Mr. Giles about demonology.

And proceeded to the second item written in purple ink: 2. Ambush Willow after ChemLab. And 'ambush' was probably the wrong word – a little too violent for her tastes – but she thought it sounded Scooby-like so she had used it anyway.

Because that was the only way at this point. Even if it meant skipping class. She smiled at the thought of the redhead's horrified expression at the mention of missing anything school-related. But this had to be done. One way or another they would have to work together again soon and that would be impossible unless she began to repair at least some of the damage done.

Besides, she missed Willow so much she found she couldn't breathe. She desperately needed to be near the girl, even if she hated her now. Maybe she could salvage something of their friendship that had meant everything to her for the past few months.

Willow was the air she breathed and now she was gone, Tara felt sometimes as if she were suffocating. With a shake of her head she cleared her mind of the negative thoughts and focused instead on the words she wanted to say to Willow.

"I love you." It came out as a whisper and she blushed bright red at the very thought of saying it to her love. If she had only…that night when Willow had said those words…but that would have been selfish. She would never allow the redhead to put herself in danger and that was exactly what falling in love with her evil self was – dangerous.

She glanced at the open books around her and sighed. So far she had found nothing. Hours of research the night before had revealed nothing but a few accounts of demonic possession that bore no resemblance to the family tales she had managed to overhear. None of the demons she had so far researched fit the precise profile of her own inevitable transformation, but the research had made her dreams take a strange dark turn. There were still the vivid images of a life and passion with Willow, but there were other moments as well – a black-eyed, cruel version of the redhead full of power that made Tara's skin crawl with fear. Like the demon within her had somehow escaped to take Willow instead.

Shuddering at the memory, she takes a series of deep breaths to drive the nightmare away.

It had to be because she would do anything to save the beautiful redhead from that dark-eyed demon that lived inside her. Anything.

Eyeing the clock she dressed hurriedly and gathered a few books. Only fifteen minutes until ambush time. Her stomach flipped at the thought of what she was about to do and she ran a hand roughly through her still tangled hair finally decided to pull it back rather than take the time to make it perfect for the redhead. Or almost perfect.

Sighing dramatically at her less than breathtaking image in the mirror, Tara picked up her patchwork bag and quickly exited the room. There was no need to rush really, she had plenty of time. But she would need a few minutes before the ambush to steady herself for that thunderbolt moment when she actually laid eyes on Willow again. Because it always was – a thunderbolt. And she had to be prepared or she would be left standing there stuttering and bewildered as the redhead ran away in terror, anger or fear.

After only five minutes of brisk walking she stood outside the hideous building that housed the Chemistry department. A 'modern' behemoth built sometime in the seventies she thought absently trying to distract herself, with tiny slits for windows that were never open to let in fresh air. 'Monstrous' was probably a better word. If the word 'chemistry' hadn't been enough to keep her out of the science department this building certainly would.

A steady stream of students began to pass Tara signaling the end of classes and she smoothed her skirt unconsciously. Suddenly a flash of red amid the blondes and browns and there was Willow flickering through the crowd like a spark. Tara's heart raced immediately and she inhaled deeply forcing herself to just watch for a moment. The red head was lowered and her lips moved slightly as she walked as if she was working something out. Carrying on a heated internal argument or discussion. She was only a few feet away now and Tara felt her stomach turn over. Taking a deep breath and a halting step forward she said it for the first time in days. The magic word.

"Willow?"

Green eyes flashed up at her and the redhead actually jumped, a beaming smile overtook her face but only for a moment.

"Tara." A painful whisper that took the smile away and Willow stepped back away from her, green eyes moving to the ground. "Don't… aren't you in Medieval History now? I mean, obviously you're not because, hello, standing right here, but don't you? Have that?" Then a look like panic flashed across the redhead's face and she looked up with concern. "Not that I memorized your schedule or think you should be all Medieval because I would never…think that about you or memorize anything. Except dates." Green eyes opened wide. "I mean, ya know, date dates of the historical kind… all with the calendar numbering and not the hand-holding smoochiness…"

Tara's brain apparently overloaded at this point because she couldn't seem to process everything at once. Here was Willow finally. Willow – beautiful and fiercely shining and bouncing frenetically in the blonde's vision. And babbling. At full force. And Tara knew from experience that this sort of babble was not a good thing. It was panicked. Traumatic. It was the verbal equivalent of all those self-defense maneuvers she had struggled to learn her first year in Sunnydale. Then she heard Willow stumbling around the word 'date' and knew that she had to act quickly or they would both be dragged down into the dark chasm of that night.

"Willow." She placed her arm on the pale blue jacket and the torrent of words stopped immediately. She felt as much as heard the sigh of relief. "I s-skipped class." There were a few moments of silence as the redhead stared at the hand on her arm and Tara self-consciously removed it. Furrowing deeply, Willow turned to her, green eyes blinking in disbelief.

"You skipped a class?" Still blinking she stared at Tara dumbfounded. If it had been a different day, a different week, the blonde would have laughed with sheer joy at the beautiful openness and expressiveness of Willow Rosenburg's face. But it wasn't.

"I w-wanted to t-talk to you and I've alr-ready arranged to g-get the notes from s-s-some…a friend." her traitorous mouth seemed to determined to make an already awkward situation absolutely impossible. She half-expected the redhead's face to be twisted in derision, but Willow's expression remained unchanged.

"I don't understand…are you okay? Are you sick? You know, because this weather…you really shouldn't be walking around with all that skin exposed…" Tara finally did laugh at Willow's inability to grasp the concept of skipping even one class – for anything. "What?" The redhead trailed off, a small smile working at the corners of her mouth.

"Willow, I skipped class b-because you're avoiding me and I wanted to see you. To talk to you. And I thought this was the only w-way." The laughter must have helped because she managed to get the entire sentence out without much of a stutter. But Willow's eyes were wide with shock again.

"I'm not…" the redhead hugged her books to her chest. There were a few moments of silence and Tara was sure that all was lost, until suddenly Willowvoice rising in pitch and volume. "Avoiding you. And…and how do I, that is, you… know you're not avoiding me?" Another pause. "Aha!" She raised a slender finger between them and a giddy, guilty smile spread across her pixie features. "That's probably it! I'm the one being avoided because here you are with the anti-avoidance and…"

"God I m-missed you." Tara said still laughing with delight and Willowbabble stopped abruptly, the blonde's admission hanging in the air between them. For a moment she feared the redhead would sneer at her confession or simply ignore it, but her eyes sparkled and her smile was breathtaking.

"Oh." The hacker's head tilted to the left slightly, her brow crinkling slightly in confusion. "Really?"

Rolling her eyes at the understatement Tara ducked her head to avoiding burning the redhead to cinders with the sheer overwhelming love that swept through her. "Really."

"Oh." She didn't dare look up now. All she could think of was the millions of ways she missed Willow. She missed her in a bone-deep, desperate way that threatened to strangle her. Even when the redhead got up to refill her coffee at the Espresso Pump it was almost unbearable. "Because I thought…"

But neither had the opportunity to voice their thoughts as a familiar cocky voice cut into their conversation. "Hey Tar." A slender arm wrapped around her waist. "You didn't have to come all the way over here to pick me up, darlin'." A soft, wet kiss on her cheek and she closed her eyes against the fury that threatened to overwhelm her. Aly.

But she wasn't and here she was with Aly's arm wrapped territorially around her waist and Willow staring at them both in shock, her mouth still slightly open around the sentence she hadn't finished.

"Hi, I'm Aly. Tara's ex. But you probably know all about that. Right Willow?" The redhead just stared at the offered hand for a second before adjusting her books to shake.

"Um, no…actually." Willow managed around a tight smile, her eyes darting from Tara's eyes to Aly to Aly's hand at her waist. The hurt in her eyes was so deep it sent the blonde's mind spinning. She could feel the redhead pulling away from her, withdrawing into herself.

"You're kidding!" Aly exclaimed dramatically. "That's strange 'cause she's told me all about you."

It was vintage Aly. The girl had always kept Tara at arm's length emotionally even when they were dating, but if the Tara showed the slightest interest in anyone else Aly suddenly became possessive and affectionate. And 'slight' was certainly not the word to describe her interest in Willow. All-consuming was possibly a fraction of it.

And the center of her world was now staring at her with a look that spoke of profound betrayal and deep pain. Aly's insinuation was obviously working its way through the redhead's powerful psyche and she could only imagine the cascade of negative conclusions she was reaching. Tara had hoped this moment would be about reconnecting, but it was quickly spinning into apocalypse territory.

"Oh." Willow's shoulders drooped and a deep crease formed between her eyes as she tried to look everywhere but at Tara. "Well, I've really gotta get to class." A fake smile and Tara watched horrified as the redhead turned and nodded, her eyes dead. "Nice to meet you Aly." She looked once at Tara, her mouth opened but she didn't say a word. Just closed her mouth and turned away.

Her initial shock wearing off, Tara's first impulse was to cry. How had things gone so impossibly wrong? Then suddenly without warning, she was just angry. Aly was one of her oldest friends and she owed her so much. If it hadn't been for the self-confident girl's friendship and not-so-gentle prodding she would probably still be at home working in her father's house. She owed her so much, but Willow was walking away. The back of her red hair bobbing furiously as she stumbled slightly on the uneven pavement.

Peeling Aly's hand off her waist, she called out to the fast-retreating redhead. "Willow wait!" and turned to Aly taking a deep breath. "I love you Aly," she began and her ex-girlfriend smiled smugly. "But I don't want to s-see you or t-talk to you for a l-long time." She dropped her friend's warm hand pointedly and held the girl's dark eyes for a long, tense moment. "Okay?" the smile was gone in a moment replaced by a look of utter shock.

"Tar?" was all she managed before the blonde turned away and sprinted the short distance to the dazed redhead. There were tears in her beautiful green eyes and Tara used every ounce of her strength to keep her focus on Willow, to keep from turning and lambasting the brunette.

"Willow, I'm sorry…" she began only to be cut off by the redhead who was still backpedaling slowly as her eyes darted between Tara and what she hoped was the now-retreating backside of her former friend.

"No!" Willow was shaking her head her eyes skimming worriedly over the forms of students still streaming around them. "Really Tara, it's okay. I understand…"

"Do you?" Tara asked softly, her voice breaking. Willow nodded but looked down. "Cause I want to t-talk to you ab-bout…"

"Look, I'm really sorry about everything I said in your room…." Willow interrupted and trailed off, kicking at something on the sidewalk. Tara felt the world constrict. Felt the cold deepen and gel around her. She was hurting Willow again, she could feel the hacker's energy imploding. "I was…that was…" the redhead frowned and looked at her feet.

"Are you…s-sorry?" She asked carefully willing her body not to descend into sobs; willing her body and her battered heart to stay still. "Of course you are…" she managed finally understanding the redhead's meaning. Willow hadn't meant it. Any of it. It had been some sort of mistake. Some sort of miscommunication and Tara had just taken it the wrong way. "It's okay. I know you didn't m-mean it…what you s-said."

Tara withdrew her hand and took a deep breath before looking at Willow. She expected relief, a smile and roll of the eyes, but the redhead was just staring at her with that same confused expression. As if she was trying to read something just behind the blonde's head.

"Um, no." she shook her head slowly and swallowed audibly. "I meant it." She said it slowly, deliberately. Very un-Willowlike. Then the dam broke loose. "Unless you don't want me to mean it. I mean, if I should be sorry…if you want me to be sorry, I will be because I don't know how these things are supposed to work," she began to babble then suddenly stopped, a slight frown forming on her face. "Anymore. You know what. No. That's not…" and green eyes were suddenly holding her own with intensity. "Sorry is not what I am and that was something that I meant. Every word of it!" she said pointedly, her shoulders squaring into what Tara recognized as her resolve stance. "But it's okay if you don't want me to mean it," the redhead's tone softened and the blonde felt as if she might pass out from all the sudden changes in direction and altitude. "I mean, I understand that you don't feel the same way about me as a girl, even though you like girls. You just don't like this girl and that's…that's okay," she looked away suddenly biting her lip. "So you don't have to…have that talk. In fact, I'd really prefer if you didn't…unless you need to 'cause…."

"Willow." Tara said the word to steady herself and was surprised to find the redhead looking at her expectantly, babble over. Carefully picking her way through the debris of their conversation the blonde fought desperately to find the meaning. When it hit her finally it was the thunderclap again – long and deafening and rolling across her in waves.

She knew she must be smiling, but she couldn't seem to feel her face anymore. Except…tears. That must be the salty taste in her mouth. Wiping her eyes clumsily with the over-sized sleeve of her sweater she sniffed once and took a deep shuddering breath.

"I d-don't n-not feel the s-same way, Willow." Ducking her head she closed her eyes and swallowed back a sob. She couldn't look at those green eyes now. If she did she'd be utterly lost.

"That's a double negative." Willow said quietly above her. Tara laughed and just nodded her head. "So…that, um, equals a positive?"

"I n-need…time Willow." She managed finally and looked up to find Willow smiling a small terrified smile. The redhead's forehead crinkled in confusion so she continued. "There are some th-things I n-need to s-sort out…" she trailed off unsure how to explain.

"Okay. Time. I can do that." Willow nodded frantically, her eyes darting to the space where Aly had been. "Is it… I mean, I know it's none of my business, but…"

"It has nothing to do with Aly," Tara said firmly and the redhead let out a relieved sigh before smiling sheepishly.

"Good! I mean, not that it's not okay if it was…about her," she began and the blonde senses another desperate babblefest coming on.

"It's f-family stuff." She blurted out then looked at the ground again.

"If I can help…" Willow began and Tara felt the warm pressure of a small hand on her forearm. The relief of the redhead's touch was overwhelming. "I want to."

"You already are," she said softly. "It's just…I n-need to do this m-myself."

"Okay," the redhead squeezed her arm slightly, but didn't let go. "So," she began and Tara looked up at the playful sing-song in her love's voice. "This 'time' we're speaking of. Is it Willow-free time? I mean, should the avoidance thing continue…not that I'm admitting to any avoidance on my part mind you," and Tara laughed out loud for the first time in days. It took all of her strength not to wrap her arms around the redhead. All she had hoped for from this ambush was friendship not…everything. Not this.

"D-definitely not W-Willow-free time," Tara nodded firmly, her breath catching as Willow slid her hand down a sweatered arm and entwined their gloved fingers.

"And when you say time, are we talking about weeks? Or is this an hours thing? And is it negotiable because I was on the debate team for three whole weeks until I realized you actually had to debate in front of people, so I'm fully prepared to negotiate…." As Willow continued playfully babbling, Tara knew she should be thinking about the cold and the threat and the demon inside, but she couldn't. Listening to the music of the redhead's voice she finally allowed herself to sink completely into the moment, to let that small warm hand guide her gently away from the demon and the past…even if it was only for a few minutes.

I've been out haunting the neighborhood
And everybody can see I'm no good
When I'm walking out between parked cars
With my head full of stars
High on amphetamines
The moon is a light bulb breaking
It'll go around with anyone
But it won't come down for anyone…
…and I won't come down for anyone.
—from St. Ides Heaven, Elliott Smith

cut this picture into you and me
burn it backwards kill this history
make it over make it stay away
or hate'll say the ending that love started to stay
—from Sweet Adeline, Elliott Smith

"Buffy!" She bolted upright, clutching her stomach, but the hot pain she expected wasn't there. Slowly, she began to notice that things weren't right. Her mouth tasted like she'd been on a two-week binge and the world smelled like a shitty inner-city hospital: bleach, iodine, urine, and mildew. "Wha' tha fu-?" she slurred and finally took in her surroundings. The rusty machines and yellowing sheets. The IV in her arm. It was a fucking hospital.

"Oh my God," someone said behind her and she heard metal clatter against linoleum. Then the sound of feet moving hurriedly away and toward her simultaneously. There were things she should know: B, Angel, the Mayor, vampires and other things too, but all of it seemed to slip away from her as soon as she tried to focus. Like a dream. A strong, dark hand grabbed her wrist and she tried to jerk away, but found that her muscles weren't working right.

"Welcome back Ms. Knox."

Who? Oh yeah. Fucking Knox. She wanted to punch this guy for calling her that name, she knew that much. That was her father's name and she wasn't his. She was her own now and that name was ancient fucking history. But it was all lost in the onslaught of sensations as everything in the hospital hit her at once – the smells, sights and sounds of it drowning her as the Slayer inside awakened in a shuddering jolt.

"She's awake," she heard it in the cacophony from the hallway. Then the click of a telephone followed by the squeak of rubber soles. She tried to get up, but the big man held her down gently.

"Hey, hey, where you going? You only just woke up," the soft, deep voice continued. Nothing was working right. Her legs and arms hadn't caught up with her yet, jerking wildly as she tried to get to her feet, because those rubber soles were coming and she knew with that absolute surety of Slayer sense that there was bad news at the end of that walk.

"No," she slurred weakly. Then the unmistakable sound of a syringe and a burning in her arm near the IV. She pawed clumsily at it, but the drug was already working on her, separating her from her strength and self.

"By order of the Council," a female voice began, but she didn't hear the rest. As Faith sank into black she used the last of her strength to tighten her fist around something small and cylindrical and important. She didn't know what it was, but it was all she had against them and the cold that slipped around her like an icy hand.

Willow sat with the comforter tucked around her, inhaling the scent of Tara with every breath. Her eyes closed as she leaned back against the headboard and let herself get lost in sandalwood and something else…jasmine? The blonde witch had insisted she take the stripey scarf for warmth and she had finally acquiesced only after Tara had reassured her repeatedly that she had another in her dorm room.

Can't have Tara catching a cold just so I can be all perv-y and smell her all day…and probably all night, she smiled. Because she definitely intended to sleep in the comfy wool scarf unless, maybe, she could manage to swing an invitation to spend the night in Tara's cozy room. Just for warmth, of course. Double the body heat and all. Lots of body heat and it would probably get so warm under the blonde's down comforter that they would have to take off some clothes and…

Okay stop with the naughtiness already! Tara said she needs time and that's what I'm giving her. Although we still haven't established exactly how much time…and she probably doesn't think about me that way anyway. And, hey, I don't even think that way! I'm very seldom naughty it's just…those dreams! Naughty subconscious! I mean, where does it even get this stuff? Dirty, dirty mind! She scolded internally. Must be sneaking off to read smutty books when I'm not looking or something. I didn't even know I knew about that…thing…with the…fingers and…besides Tara said she's still a virgin. But how is that possible? She and that Cordelia-clone were pretty cozy. Maybe lesbians have a different definition of virgin? Oh yeah! Maybe I should look that up.

Even as she began to type the words into the search engine she began imagining the images and illustrations that probably would go along with such a description and swallowed hard.

Startled by her own internal ramblings, Willow glanced at the stack of magic research and closed the laptop. Lesbian research would have to wait. Until much later. When it was dark. And there was absolutely no chance of Buffy walking in on…things.

She let out an exasperated sigh and looked around guiltily as if someone could read her thoughts or worse, could see her certainly flushed face. Not that anyone was there. No, Buffy, her best friend and confidante was most definitely missing in action again. And it wasn't even 'Riley Time'? Or was it?

A look at the clock revealed the time: 5:30. So, almost 'Riley Time' which meant Buffy was probably off getting dinner without her so she could go straight to her boyfriend, then to Patrol. Another sigh and she eyed the magic books stacked neatly beside her bed. At least research would kill some non-Tara time. The blonde had agreed to go for coffees after the afternoon Scooby meeting and Willow had agreed, ecstatic at the time. But now it just seemed interminable. At least ten hours and possibly even eleven or twelve if it turned into a marathon Scooby session.

Frowning she picked up a book and thumbed through a few pages on Ragnarok and Fenrir. Still no mention of the ice wands, but this was a much more detailed account of the terrible Nordic battle at the end of the world. Fenrir's father, the trickster god Loki at the helm of the ship of the dead leading the giants into a battle with the gods, elves, dwarves and…

Which sounded kinda like The Lord of the Rings. That was a weird coincidence. Picking up a paperback copy of Edda, the Norse story of creation she flipped casually and immediately landed on the name 'Gandalf'. Okay, maybe not such a coincidence. That thief! Did he even footnote?

She shrugged off her momentary irritation at Tolkien's apparent plagiarism and re-examined the relevant details. There were a few passages about Fenrir's captivity. He was held apparently by some super-strong, super-thin stuff called Gleipnir that was capable of holding a god.

Earthquakes. It was there on the next line. And what was Southern California famous for? She thought she had felt a tremor this morning walking with Tara, but she had chalked it up to the general weakness and fluttery feeling she got whenever the blonde was around.

So, okay, these guys were probably going to use magic to set off some earthquakes and open the Hellmouth to let this Fenrir guy out and…how was this related to the winter thing and the 'broken spell'? Not to mention, hadn't she read somewhere that somebody else had to eat the sun and the moon first?

Paging irritably through the tome, she looked out the window to make sure the sun was there. Yep. Still there although going down pretty quickly.

She made a few notes in blue ink (for those icy Nordic types and of course, for the blue eyes that had sparkled while telling her about this stuff in the first place) and another in pink to remind herself to ask Tara about the Old Norse translation. Maybe it wasn't 'broken spell' at all and she and Giles were hunting down the wrong path.

She remembered the recent 'My-Will-Be-Done' curse that had gone awry and shuddered. Definitely not wanting to repeat that. She wasn't sure she could bake that many cookies if it happened a second time.

Checking her brand new clock she noticed with satisfaction that it was now 6:45. Just in time for her hourly trip down the hall to wash her hands and maybe get some chocolate-y goodness from the vending machine.

A glance at the phone and she decided she'd rather postpone her trip down the hall in favor of Tara goodness. Besides, she had a very good reason for calling. She needed that translation. Really.

"H-hello?" Tara answered the phone and Willow smiled at the hesitant but beautiful sound of her voice. It was so cute and endearing and yet sexy at the same time and…

"Hello?"

"Oh! Sorry," Willow blurted out. "Tara I was just…did you know that The Lord of the Rings is a blatant and I mean blatant ripoff of the Edda? That's just so…how could he? Even the names! I mean, hello, Gandalf is in, like, the first few stanzas," she wasn't quite sure where the sudden babble was coming from. Probably the fact that she'd been caught daydreaming about the blonde again. By the blonde herself.

Her babble was cut short by the sound of a low chuckle on the other end of the line.

"Willow?" Even Tara's chuckling was sexy and the way she said her name…the redhead was sure she would swoon if she weren't already sitting on the bed.

"Oh! Yeah! Sorry. That would be me. Willow." She shifted the phone from one ear to another and tried unsuccessfully to lower her internal temperature. The room didn't even feel cold anymore, so she was definitely blushing at a Rudolf the red nosed reindeer sort of level. "But you probably already know that now…from the babbling I mean."

Another low throaty chuckle and the blonde cleared her throat. "Um, yeah. B-but I wouldn't exactly call Tolkien a, um, a th-thief. Wagner did it too you know. And even M-Mozart. Plus, I th-think calling Tolkien a thief m-might get you stoned to d-death by the D&D guys d-down the hall."

"I know…" the redhead grumbled with an amused smile. "I just thought…I mean, it's The Lord of the Rings! And wait, there are D&D freaks down the hall?" She yelped, looking at the door in fear.

Another long musical laugh and Willow felt the fear and cold slip away. She was struck by a sudden revelation. "Hey, maybe they're the guys with the ice wands!" It had sounded much more plausible when it was still floating around up there in her mind. "I mean, you know, they're all sneaky and beady-eyed and you know they probably got them off the internet. They probably meet somewhere in cloaks and beat drums and chant to Thor or something."

"Um, Will, I think if Carl saw an actual s-spell or m-monster he'd probably wet himself." So Tara was on a first-name basis with these potential Fenrir wannabes? And Carl? She sounded awfully chummy with this nefarious dice-roller. The redhead knew the blonde was gay, but still. She could feel the jealousy rising up hard and fast.

"Carl?" It came out much snarkier than she intended.

"Oh, um, y-yes." The blonde stumbled, obviously upset by Willow's tone of voice. She felt guilty immediately. "C-C…he was in my R-Roman History c-class last year. W-We used to s-swap notes."

That should have been a comfort, but it wasn't. Tara apparently had forgotten the sanctity of the redhead's notes. Willow wouldn't even allow Oz to borrow her notes, xeroxing them instead and highlighting the important parts for him. Yet here was the beautiful blonde just loaning her precious notes out every D&D geek on the planet letting them touch them and hold them and god only knew what else. She would have to check up on this guy, Carl. Definitely.

"Willow?" All of the anger drained away with that word on those lips. She sighed and smiled into the phone.

"Oh. Yes. Sorry. I just…" a knock at the door brought her out of her deep reverie. "Hold on a sec, baby." It was out of her mouth before she could check herself and she wasn't even sure where it had come from. Baby? She'd never called anyone that in her life. Her face felt like a blast furnace. Maybe the blonde hadn't noticed? There was no sound on the other end of the line. Just the soft strains of whatever music Tara was listening to. "Come in." She yelled a little too loudly and the door opened wide to reveal the gigantic figure of Riley.

"Oh. Hey Willow. Is Buffy around?." Not even an attempt at polite chit chat or even a 'how are you doing, Willow', The redhead just stared at him for a few moments as her brain tried to shift gears from her slip with the blonde witch to the soldier's presence. Because something was wrong. And she wasn't sure what it was yet, her brain still hung up on that one word: Baby.

That was the wrong thing. The very wrong thing. She shivered suddenly feeling the cold. Riley's breath was a soft mist as he exhaled in the room.

"It's Riley Time," she smiled hoping he would go look for his girlfriend and get on with whatever they did.

"What time?"

"You know, you and Buffy. Six to nine every night." His forehead furrowed and she saw the muscles in his jaw clench and understood suddenly that he didn't know. And that meant Riley time wasn't Riley time. And Buffy was lying. To everyone. But if it wasn't Riley Time what time was it? "Oh yeah! Sorry, I forgot, um, she's… a-at the Lesbian Alliance meeting!" Okay, where did that come from?! The frown on Riley's face deepened so she began a desperate scramble to explain her best friend's whereabouts. "Because her friend…T-Terry is one. A lesbian, I mean. Because obviously Buffy isn't of the gay. I mean, look at you. And she and you do…non-lesbian…things. All the time. Not that she tells me what you do because I mean, ew…and not that I know what lesbians do because why would I?" she trailed off awkwardly and managed a pathetic smile. The phone was slick in her sweaty grip. She hated lying. And she didn't even know why she was lying. And she was pretty much one hundred percent sure that Riley knew she was lying. Heck, who was she kidding? Even her totally oblivious mother could tell she was lying on this one.

Riley put his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor. "Well, could you tell Buffy I stopped by? You know, when she gets back from the Lesbian Alliance meeting." He gave her a tiny, sad smile and turned to leave shutting the door quietly behind himself.

Willow slumped down into the comforter. She didn't know whether to feel hurt or angry or just betrayed. It didn't make any sense. Why would her best friend sneak out every night and lie about it? And who was she meeting? A guy? But wouldn't Buffy have told her if she'd met someone else? It wasn't like she was the president of the Riley fan club or anything. So, mainly hurt.

"Willow?" Tara's voice small and far away. The phone! She'd forgotten all about it.

"Hi…Tara. Sorry…about that. I just…" she didn't finish the sentence because she didn't know how.

"Are you okay?" Not is Buffy okay? Or Xander. The blonde had asked if she was okay. Had she heard? Probably. Willow hadn't covered up the receiver. She could almost see the kind look of concern on Tara's beautiful face. The thought of it made her relax a bit. Drove the pain a little farther away.

"Yeah, I just…why would she lie to everyone? And me?" Her voice rose uncomfortably, threatening to squeak at any moment then fell to a whisper. "I mean, I'm her best friend."

"She p-probably meant to, um, t-tell you. You s-said you'd both been r-really busy lately."

She smiled a bit at the blonde's gentle explanation then felt her forehead furrowing again, remembering the last time the Slayer had lied to them all. "But Tara, the last time she lied to us it was all kinds of bad. I mean, like, near-death experience bad. Why would she…and there's stuff I've been needing to talk to her about too, you know?" All of her frustration over the events of the past weeks suddenly caught up with her. All of that pain and confusion and no one to talk to. No best friend in sight. "I mean, I've got stuff…very important stuff… happening and she's running around with Mystery Man or whatever doing god knows what, but if she needs a spell or research you know she'll be all 'Willow do this' and 'Willow I need you to' and expect me to just drop all of my… stuff." She was so angry and hurt she could feel the tears burning her eyes.

There were a few moment of silence and she heard the blonde shift on the other end of the line. "I'm sure she w-wants to tell you. You're her best f-friend." The redhead couldn't help a snort of derision as she began to pick at some imaginary lint on the comforter. "I'm s-sure she would t-tell you if she, um, c-could. She l-loves you, Willow."

"Yeah, well, she has a funny way of showing it," she pouted.

"Is th-this 's-stuff' dangerous?" Tara asked carefully. "I mean, because if you n-need help…"

"Oh no!" she yelped, feeling guilty at the obvious fear in the blonde's voice. "No, nothing like that just…I just…" She paused to take a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I wanted to tell her about…us. And, well, everything."

"Oh."

Then it struck her that maybe 'time' meant there really wasn't an 'us' yet and she was being all presumptuous.

"Is that okay? That I wanted to…because I don't have to…." She thought the phone might break apart in her hand she was gripping it so tightly.

"Th-that's, um, fine Willow. I just…I d-didn't think you'd want to t-tell anyone about…us." Tara interjected softly.

"Oh, I definitely want to tell everyone…on the planet. You know, when there's an us to talk about. If there's an us to talk about and a 'mine' and 'yours' even…but only when you're ready because… time. Time. That's what I'm giving you. I'm time-giving girl…and space because they're really kind of the same thing…."

"You know I m-meant what I said b-before," Tara said softly and Willow thought she could hear a crooked smile behind the words. Can you hear a smile?

"What?" The redhead breathed softly unsure of herself after the revealing chatter.

"Y-yours." She said firmly. "No matter what h-happens, Willow, I need you to, um, kn-kn…understand that I am… yours…always."

The redhead sat speechless, fingering the twisted cord and silently cursing the inventor of the phone. Alexander Graham Bell, she thought with growing irritation, You would be so dead, mister…if you weren't already…dead. Because this wasn't the kind of moment that should happen on the phone, they should be together, holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes.

But this would have to do.

"So am I." She said suddenly, a giddy smile making its way across her features. "Totally, completely, absolutely yours. In fact, I'm so yours I'm thinking of shrinking myself down to fit in your pocket or something."

A gorgeous laugh and Willow relaxed into the warmth of the comforter letting Buffy's betrayal slip away. "I th-think I prefer you, um, Willow-sized."

And it hit her like a thunderclap – like all revelations about Tara seemed to – that she was sitting here in a frigid room by herself talking into a piece of plastic and she had never felt so un-alone in her life. Not with Oz or her friends or her so-called family. That was what it meant to belong to someone and have them belong to you – never being alone again.

Yours, she thought with a smile. Forever. And gave herself up without a second thought.

Buffy was sure she was having the most annoying night of her life. Nothing seemed to be going right. Her study session had run WAY over and now she was late for…everything. Her nightly schedule had become a tight series of events and any deviation threw the entire thing into chaos. It was infuriating. She had even begun writing things down in her filofax to keep up with it all.

Rolling her eyes, she allowed a small smile for the first time in hours. Like she could ever be as efficient as her best friend. It just wasn't physically possible. Plus, slaying was never predictable. She had practically run away from her study buddies only to be ambushed by three wildly desperate vamps in a row on campus. Her smile faded at the memory. These vamps were like rabid dogs. No cunning, no strategy, basically a feeding frenzy. Her jaw tightened at the realization – the Initiative. They were driving the vamps off their normal feeding grounds and throwing the entire balance of Sunnydale off. She couldn't even count on the cemeteries for fresh slayage anymore and was forced to widen her Patrol farther and farther each night. And factoring in occasional Riley time that meant about one to two hours of sleep a night. No wonder she felt like she might snap at any moment.

At least she was almost to the hospital. Her dreams the night before had centered on Faith, but they all did lately. Strange, vivid dreams of the two of them in strange conversations about Tara and someone named Dawn; and Faith, the two of them slaying side-by-side again with perfect synchronization and over and through it all an overwhelming feeling of dread. Something was off. Something big and she needed to get to the hospital and find out exactly what it was.

Making her way through the now familiar subterranean halls of the hospital basement she walked through the doorway into Faith's room and stood stunned in the emptiness. The Slayer was gone. Backing up carefully, she checked the door to make sure – yep, right room. Trying not to panic she turned to the hall to find Paul smiling behind her.

"It's incredible isn't it?" He beamed happily. "She woke up this morning." Shaking his head in astonishment he adjusted the sheets on the empty bed carefully. "A miracle…"

"Where is she?" Buffy asked carefully unsure of herself. Part of her wanted to share his elation, but another jaded side was worried about the Dark Slayer loose again with her appetite for destruction.

"Oh, they moved her to a rehab facility," he looked confused now. "Didn't say where. I would have called you, but I didn't know how to get in touch…"

"It's okay." She interrupted a little too sharply, but he seemed unfazed. "Do you know how I could find out where she is?" she softened her tone and looked into his eyes. "It's kinda important that I see her."

Shaking his head, he looked away sadly. "Unless you're family…" he trailed off and returned his gaze to hers. "If I could help you I would, but I don't have access…."

Biting her lip she looked away in disappointment. There was no way to get the information. Unless, of course, she resorted to violence and threatened one of the nurses. But that was just too…Faith. She sighed. maybe Willow could hack into the records and….yeah, right. She couldn't ask the hacker to do her thing on the Slayer's file for the same reasons she couldn't tell her she was visiting her every night in the first place: this was the psycho Slayer that had held her best friend at knife's point only months ago.

"Thanks Paul," she murmured distracted and walked away. "For everything."

She was practically running by the time she hit the heavy doors, her mind churning through possible solutions: she could just pay a visit to every rehab facility in town or Willow might help her if she thought Faith was a danger…and she might be.

Which brought her around for the millionth time to the question that had been bothering her since she had begun these visits: why the hell was she even bothering?

"Are just dreams," she muttered angrily to herself.

"Dreams, huh?" A deep familiar voice beside her. Her head snapped up to find Riley. She waited for the rush of warmth, but she was just irritated. One more distraction in a night full of them. All she wanted to do was track down Faith, but now…She sighed. And she couldn't even ask him for help because that would lead to a discussion of Angel and…everything. Besides the fact that she had no desire to go there at the moment, she just didn't have the time. "I can help with that you know. When you go for your Masters in Psych it's kind of a requirement."

A sheepish grin lit his features and she smiled in return, but only for a moment. The thought of a Riley lecture at that moment made her jaw clench uncomfortably. What was it about grad students anyway? Talk, talk, talk. Maybe it had something to do with the teaching thing or assistant teaching thing. Lectures. And when,, exactly, she wondered, had Riley's monologues gone from endearing to irritating?

"Nope. Thanks. No dreams here. Just the usual," she stumbled awkwardly for an excuse and noticed a strange blinking metal thing in hid hand and it hit her – how had he found her? "Wait. Are you tracking me?"

"No. I mean, not technically. Okay, maybe just a little." His broad shoulders slumped slightly and she thought of Angel stalking her causing her temperature to rise. "I just. I haven't seen you in a couple of days and you haven't returned my phone calls, so…I worry."

"I'm the Slayer. You don't have to worry about me. I can take care of myself." She responded testily then softened as his expression turned to a sort of stunned puppy face. "Look Riley, I'm sorry," she reached out placing a gloved hand on his enormous shoulder. "I just, I have some stuff going on right now and with this whole Ragnarok end of the world cold thing going on I just…."

"Oh, the cold snap?" he nodded firmly, his shoulder's straightening into soldier mode. "It's just a weather anomaly. Our team's already analyzed the data and although it's statistically improbable…"

"Actually, we don't think it's just a cold snap," she interrupted, careful to keep her voice perky and upbeat. "Haven't you guys noticed an increase in magical activity or whatever you call it in military lingo?"

He shuffled his feet, forehead furrowing in confusion and something else she couldn't quite identify. "Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean the two are connected. And, not that it's any of my business, but who, exactly, is 'we'?"

"Giles, Willow and Xander. You know, the royal 'we'." She answered jokingly, but noticed that he wasn't smiling. "Why? Who did you think 'we' was?"

"Nobody." He tucked the beeping thing in a thigh pocket and shifted his vest. "I don't know, Buffy," she said, exasperation creeping into his voice. "It's just…a week ago you couldn't wait to be with me and now I go by your room after three Buffyless days and Willow thinks you're with me." He paused briefly and shook his head. "She even made up some crazy story about you being at the Lesbian Alliance to cover for you." That was what the other thing was: hurt. He thought she was cheating on him. But, oh god, Willow.

"You talked to Willow?" she asked wide-eyed and he nodded. Closing her eyes, she brought her hands to her face and took a deep breath. "No, no, no." she mumbled into her hands. Things between them had been awkward at best for weeks, but this was sure to drive her best friend away. Possibly for good. It would definitely require a lengthy explanation tonight and she wanted to, but she was so busy. Maybe she could try the cookie-baking thing when this was all over. "This isn't happening." She mumbled and suddenly pulling her hands from her face she blurting out testily, "And they are connected! The cold, the magic." Until she was struck by a thought, "Have you guys seen any guys with big ice sticks?"

Shaking his head in confusion, Riley sputtered back. "What? No. I don't…you know what? We were talking about us."

She closed her eyes again and took a few deep breaths. She didn't have time for this.

"Look, Riley. There's no other guy. No other 'we', okay?" She turned and began walking away from the hospital and he followed. "But there is this whole Slayer thing I do and right now, I have an apocalypse to stop…"

"Buffy," he laughed. "Don't you think you're over-reacting? It's just some bad weath…"

"Newsflash! This is the Hellmouth. There are no coincidences and there's no such thing as over-reacting," she said firmly and watched the patronizing smile fade from his face. There were several seconds of silence and she wondered if this was it. If he was going to finally leave her too.

"What can I do to help?" He exhaled and stared deeply into her eyes, finally reminding her why she liked him in the first place. But that brought a whole new problem: what could he do to help? The last thing she needed was a bunch of gung-ho Initiative guys fouling things up. She needed information. Fast. About Faith and the apocalypse and whoever these brand new freaks in town were and…

Reaching up onto her tiptoes she kissed Riley lightly and held his arms firmly. "Well, for starters, you can help me beat up Hostile 17 for info." Because if anyone would have information about the End-of-the-World Ice Capades it was Spike.

Raising his eyebrows, Riley wrapped his strong arms around her and smiled. "See, that's all I wanted. Just a little quality time with my girl."

They kissed and it was the same warm Riley kiss that had been so awe-inspiring only a week ago, but now…all she could think about was the Dark Slayer. Where was she? And, more important, what, exactly, was she going to do with her when she finally did find Faith?

Part 6

Faith was shivering uncontrollably, her teeth chattering violently as she tried again and again to regain consciousness. It felt like she was held underwater – freezing water. Each time she broke the surface and the world began to emerge in hard lines, it would dissolve again as she was pulled back under. Fighting desperately to keep her eyes open she groaned against the weight of it.

"Wake up, slag." Male voice. Brit, Not a frilly Watcher like Wesley or Giles, but definitely Council. Two, maybe three bodies in the space with her, which left at least one, probably two up front. The facts ticked off in her mind as she was pulled under again. A hard stinging slap to the side of her head brought her back to the sharp icy world of…another fucking armored van.

Don't these guys ever learn? I broke out of one of these shitcans once already, she thought with a sliver of hope that quickly melted away as more facts trickled in through her blunted senses: ankle cuffs, burning into her skin like fire and she was face down on the fiery cold of a wheel well, her arms bound tightly around and behind her.

A straight jacket for the psycho. Well, at least it's fabric, she thought wincing as he pulled her upright again. Something was definitely wrong with her left arm and shoulder. An enormous angry face appeared suddenly in front of her unfocused and his breath made her gag as she was sucked under again.

Another hard slap and she tasted the coppery sweetness of blood.

I am so gonna fucking kill you , she thought and smiled, but her legs when she tried to move them were leaden and useless.

"What're you smilin' at you sick bitch?" This time it was a body shot that doubled her over and left her gagging. But all she could think was, Why is it so cold?

Her first thought was she wasn't in Sunnydale anymore, but everything inside her screamed that she was. The Slayer recognizing its home.

"Give us what yer holdin' now or you'll be in a world a hurt."

Holding? She couldn't even feel her arms much less her fingers. How could she be holding anything?

She would have spit at him if she could, but the muscles were no longer under her control. From very far away she felt something pulling at her, then terrible overwhelming pain in her left arm.

Another hard hit to the other side of her head and the world went to fuzzy static, like that crappy TV her mother used to watch twenty-four hours a day.

"Smith! Give her the good shit now. If she won't give it up, we'll pry whatever the fuck it is out of her dead cold fingers." The bad breath moved away and she felt different hands on her now. Gentler. They pushed the wet hair out off her face and she felt herself pulled upright gently.

"We don't know what that will do to a Slayer in her condition…" a softer voice began and she tried desperately to hold onto this information. Here was a potential ally.

"The Council don't care whether this pathetic excuse for a Slayer's delivered dead or alive. Give 'er the shit now. I don't want her usin' whatever's in 'er 'and against us."

The gentle fingers probed her shoulder carefully and she groaned without meaning to. The touch disappeared immediately and she heard the sounds of a plastic cap snapping open then a syringe.

A rough hand fell like molten iron on her bare leg and she tried to fight, but her body managed barely a shudder against him. She didn't even feel the needle as it sank into her thigh, just the terrible screaming fire that moved through her veins burning her alive from the inside out.

Well, at least it's not cold, she thought as her entire body seized in a high arch against the sharp metal and she heard fabric tearing.

Hard hands tried to restrain her as the Slayer fought against the chemical and metal bonds. Her teeth were clenched so hard she was sure they would break apart in her mouth.

"Bugger all!" the rough voice said then that gentler worried voice muttering 'oh God, oh no' over and over, but she was beyond them, rising now, not sinking. Rising higher and higher past the pain to a place where she could remember and forget everything all at once: the Mayor with his cold, manipulative affection; Buffy with the jagged blade and the brand new anger; the pain, helplessness and shame of her childhood; and something new. A strange new memory that wasn't yet: a warm, golden smile on Buffy's lips for her, the Dark Slayer, the fuckup. The killer.

"Buffy!" It was barely recognizable, her own voice, but it was unmistakable.

The Council heavies were yelling at each other around and over her and she felt the needle this time as it sank into her skin pushing her finally back into the sharp cold with only that one fading golden image to protect her.

Tara struggled to hold the pile of books in her arms as she walked to Mr. Giles' apartment and tried to keep her mind on the task and not on Willow. There had been no vivid dreams the night before, but then, she hadn't needed them. She and Willow had spent hours on the phone talking and…well, flirting. A blush crept over her face at the thought, but there was no denying, it had definitely been flirting. A sort of relieved acknowledgement of the transition in their relationship, not to mention the sexual tension. It was like they were getting to know each other all over again in a very different way. And that lightening…it just kept getting bigger, as if they were moving toward something. Something her dreams had only hinted at.

The familiar crunch of frost under her boots was a reminder of the danger they all faced and she brought her thoughts back to the apocalypse, the impenetrable cold and the demon that still lay within her. All the reasons that brought her to this now-familiar wooden door on a bitter cold morning.

"Ah Tara, do come in," the door swung open before she could even knock, "I've finally managed to get the heater working. It can't be above freezing out there."

"M-morning Mr. Giles," she mumbled with a smile before setting the books on the coffee table. No one had ever made her feel so at ease in such a short time before. Except Willow.

Without asking, Giles brought out a steaming pot of tea and Tara accepted the cup with blushing thanks.

"My pleasure," he said with a smile before sinking back into the overstuffed chair. "It's so nice to have tea with someone again."

Tara blushed again and reached for her notes. "I d-didn't find anyth-thing except a f-few references to th-thaumogenic and thesulac d-demons, but…" she trailed off unsure how to continue. Each fit certain aspects of her mother's possession and her father's threats, but none was a perfect fit. Shaking her head she handed the open book to Giles who studied it with interest.

"Yes. A thesulac demon. A fair candidate, but for the type of generational, family-oriented demonic manifestation you've described…" He closed the book carefully and set it on the table between them before meeting Tara's eyes. She nodded once to let him know she understand. "Well, I'm afraid I haven't had any more luck." He picked up a leather-bound tome nearby and thumbed through it carefully. "Every demon I find that fits one aspect of your description, fails in another." He set the book on the table open to a particularly vicious and reptilian-looking demon with several heads. "I'm quite sure you would have noticed if your mother was transformed into a hydra every few months."

Tara nodded slightly and shuddered at the horrific demon in the illustration. Buffy, Xander, Mr. Giles and Willow fought demons like this every day to keep the rest of the world safe. They risked their lives and families to help others. That thought made hardened her resolve and she felt her shoulders push back slightly. This was the reason she was meeting secretly with Mr. Giles; the reason she couldn't tell Willow about the demon. If she couldn't protect Willow on Patrol she would shield her from the demon inside her.

"D-do you have any other b-books I c-can…" she began, but her stuttering stopped her and she ducked her head in embarrassment.

"You mean you've already read all the…" he said before trailing off. "Oh, I see," he muttered under his breath before pulling out a cloth to clean his glasses. "Well, it's obvious why Willow raves about you. That's quite a lot of material to digest virtually overnight." He said softly before closing the book on the hideous demon.

"The wh-whole demon thing is k-kind of a b-big motivator," she smiled sheepishly ducking her head, but she could feel that Mr. Giles continued to study her for several moments. Finally, he cleared his throat and she looked up.

"Yes, I suppose it would be quite the motivation," he began softly before smiling. "I'm afraid we've exhausted all of my resources. The next step would be to contact the Council." Tara inhaled sharply at the suggestion, sure that he had finally decided to reveal her demon status and the threat to higher powers. But Giles spoke again before she could voice her concerns. "But they have a tendency to…overreact and I'd prefer to keep this between us for a bit longer."

"Th-thank you Mr. Giles," Tara whispered and looked down at her hands. She didn't deserve his concern.

"Tara, I know you're quite adamant about not involving Willow, but at this point I believe her skills could…"

"No." She was surprised at the conviction in her voice and looked down immediately. "I…I j-just c-ca…I won't put her in d-d…" she began, but her voice broke and she couldn't continue afraid she would give herself away.

There were a few moments of awkward silence before Giles cleared his throat again and stood. When he spoke, his voice was the easily recognizable business-like tone he reserved for research. "Well then, maybe we should go over the facts again."

They ran quickly through her limited knowledge of her demon history and childhood memories without any new revelations. The Watcher removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "What about recently? Have there been any hints of the demon transformation? Physical changes, dreams…"

"Dreams…" she murmured meaningfully, surprising him. Those dreams – so vivid and real. She blushed just thinking about them and looked once more at her hands. "I…I've been having these int-tense d-dreams recently."

"Recently as in months?" he questioned carefully and Tara shook her head, looking up at him through the comforting drape of her hair.

"J-just the past few d-days," she nodded and returned her attention to her chewed-up fingernails trying not to betray the content of them with her eyes.

"Well, that's very interesting," his forehead furrowed in what Tara was beginning to recognize as his 'deep thought' look: an expression of deep concentration that was strangely reminiscent of Willow. "Were these dreams…" he began, but paused for a moment before continuing. "Do you feel they're related to this demon manifestation?" he asked carefully.

Tara thought for a moment about the dreams and felt the heat rise in her face. There was something about the vivid, intense nature of these dreams that was familiar and disturbing. "S-since I was about f-f-ive, I've h-had d-dreams…about the f-future." She paused and looked up to check his expression: still pensive and curious, so she continued looking down again. "I…s-sometimes they w-would come t-true." She looked up again to and met the Watcher's eyes hoping he would understand the terrible nature of her revelation. "Usually th-they did. M-my family t-told me they were signs of the d-demon in me."

Two deep furrows creased his brow. "I see. Well, dreams can be signs of magical influence, but they won't necessarily help us with a diagnosis. Buffy often experiences premonitory dreams in times of great magical upheaval." He looked thoughtful again and there were a few awkward moments of silence before he turned to her, the lines of his face softening.

"Tara, I know this may be difficult, but can you tell me the content of these dreams? Did you dream about the demon manifestation?" She could feel his eyes on her and found herself recoiling automatically. It was unfair, she knew, but admitting to her dreams in the past had always ended in confinement…or worse. "I'm sorry. If this is too…" The watcher began, obviously distressed by her reaction.

"No. I'm s-sorry, Mr. Giles," she managed a slight smile for him and focused again on the question: those dreams. Images from the past few nights swept over her immediately: she and Willow sliding against each other, wet and heat and…

Suddenly the image of a dark-eyed demonic Willow loomed in her vision and she gasped, a chill running through her.

"Tara?" The furrows had returned to his forehead as he studied the blonde with concern.

"Yes, s-sorry. I just…." She trailed off trying to figure out how to say this without giving up intimate details. "Th-they're very v-viv…" she winced at her inability to get the words past her lips.

"Vivid?" he offered quietly.

She nodded. "And s-some are k-kind of intim-mate." She said and felt her face catch fire as the Watcher cleared his throat.

"Ah, I see." He cleared his throat again as Tara tried to calm herself, images of that black-eyed version of her love assaulting her. "Is it the demon Tara? Do you see it?"

"Y-yes." She answered quietly and ducked behind her hair. "B-but, it d-doesn't make sense." Everything was quiet and she realized without looking up that he was waiting patiently for her to continue. "It…it's not me. It's Willow."

When she finally found the courage to look up he sat still, blinking in confusion. "I don't understand. You say the demon is Willow?"

She shook her head against the images and tried to clarify the series of intense, but disconnected images for him. "She's…so angry…a-and powerful…with b-black eyes and hair…. It's t-terrible." She stopped as her voice began to break, tears forming in her eyes.

Giles now regarded her with a look of angry disbelief and she had to fight to keep herself from recoiling again. "I don't understand. You're saying the demon is Willow…"

"No," she interrupted. "It's m-more like, she's t-trying to p-protect me I think, but the magic she c-calls on is too strong and…it's consuming her." Wiping at her eyes she forced herself to once again meet the Watcher's intense gaze. "I w-won't let that happen."

Nodding once, he stood up and removed his glasses, but replaced them almost immediately. "I understand that you have premonitions, but that's simply impossible. Willow isn't powerful enough…"

"No. You're wr-rong. She is," she interjected without a hint of stutter. "S-sorry." She mumbled as his angry gaze fell on her.

Sighing deeply he punched his hands into the pockets of his tweed jacket. "Even if she were, as you say, capable of such power, she is incapable of succumbing to the dark forces." His back straightened with the proud conviction of a parent speaking of a favorite child.

Tara chose her words carefully. She had seen the darkness in him. "Like you were?" she asked softly and winced as he swung to face her. He was clearly shocked by her words and his mouth opened and closed several times, but there no words were spoken. Finally after almost a minute, he sat heavily down in his seat.

"I was sure she had learned her lesson from the curse she unwittingly placed on the rest of us," he mumbled absently to himself then turned to face her. "And she seems to be progressing quite well under your tutelage," he offered with a sad smile. "I'm not sure what I could do to help her. I'm afraid she regards me as a sort of well-meaning but bumbling relative."

"Mr. Giles, she idolizes you. You're l-like a father to her," she said softly and was relieved to see a sort of wistful smile cross his face.

"I didn't realize,"