Title: On the Edge
Rating: T
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Timeline: Season 6, shortly after the events of "Tabula Rasa"
Pairings: N/A
Crossover Material: Captain Marvel/DC Universe
Spoilers: Implicit references to end of season 6
Summary: A chance encounter with a very unexpected visitor to Sunnydale gives Tara a hint of things to come. For her sake, dear reader, pray that forewarned is forearmed . . .

Sunset was a bad time of day to be out in Sunnydale. Take just a couple minutes too long getting home, and you ran the risk of never getting there at all. Of course, there were people in the town for whom the night held no fear. Not so long ago, Tara might have considered herself one of those people, having spent her share of nights not only out of doors but in the most questionable of locations. Granted, those times she had not been alone, and things had a way of looking different when you weren't shoulder to shoulder with a special forces operative, an ex-vengeance demon, and the Slayer herself. And, of course, a certain redhead whose very aura gleamed in time with hers . . .

Tara's mind whirled, and she zipped her jacket and quickened her step. Above her, the sun sank towards the western horizon, and the sky seethed with dull red light. Her foot inadvertently made contact with a discarded plastic bottle, which landed in the gutter with an unsettling rattle.

"Who's there?"

Tara froze. Her eyes inched to the right, scanning urgently for the voice's source. Her breath caught in her throat as she noticed the man standing under a tree, his face obscured in shadow. The air around him seemed to hum as she turned to face him; to her sixth sense, he reeked of obscure eldritch power. The man's hand leapt from his side, extending towards Tara, and in a heartbeat she found her arms pinned by invisible force. "Why were you spying on me?" he snarled.

Drawing on her inner strength, Tara pushed back, sending a shockwave through the aether between them. "I – I wasn't! I'm on my way home!" The words came out less defiant than they had sounded in her head.

His magical grip on her arms faltered, and he withdrew, almost in surprise. "Just as I thought. I knew I felt the gift of magic about you. Who are you?"

The man stepped forward, into the direct light of the setting sun. He was of little more than middling height, not the most imposing physical specimen, but he moved with sublime, almost supernatural confidence. His hair was jet-black and cropped short. His clothes were also all black, with gold-colored boots and belt, and a golden lightning bolt emblazoned on his chest. He studied her almost casually, his eyes simmering with the weight of eons.

Dread crept up on Tara. In all she'd read, all she'd been taught about the realms of magic, there was only one man who matched this description. A warrior and a tyrant. A champion turned traitor. Destroyer of nations. Enemy of the light.

Black Adam.

Her instincts were screaming at her to run, to get help, but she couldn't force her legs to comply as he strode casually forward, stopping barely an arm's length from her. For a moment they stood there, eye to eye. High above, the sky faded to darkness.

"You are afraid," he said, after what felt like forever.

Tara didn't answer. "Understandable," Adam continued, "but unnecessary. I am not here to fight. I seek only the Urn of Osiris. I have reason to believe there is one in this town."

She shook her head. Did he know something about Buffy? "Th-there was one. But it was destroyed." Tara cringed, anticipating the ancient sorcerer's reaction.

As she watched, something happened that was close to the last thing she would ever have expected to see. The color drained from Black Adam's cheeks, and he turned aside, an expression of abject pain on his face. He muttered under his breath, something that sounded very much like: "I am sorry, Isis . . ."

He faced her again, his eyes flashing. "Tell me everything. When did this happen?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

"Where are the pieces?"

"I – I don't know." Tara shook her head in confusion. "Still in the cemetery? I – "

"If the pieces were not completely destroyed," Adam exclaimed, "I may still be able to use it! Will you show me where?" In the last moments, he had taken on an entirely different tone. Every trace of haughtiness was gone from his voice, and Tara heard an unspoken please behind his words.

"It's not far from here. Th-this way . . ."

"Lead on." As they walked in silence towards the cemetery, Tara racked her brain for a plan. Unfortunately, she had a very hard time coming up with anything likely to work on a five-thousand-year-old sorcerer with the powers of a forgotten pantheon that could be pulled off by one woman.

When she resurfaced from her reverie, they were standing at the foot of Buffy's grave. Her gaze landed on a ragged hole in the ground, and she shivered as she realized it was where the Slayer had dragged herself back into the world of the living. Adam, though, was intent on the site of their makeshift magic circle a few feet away.

"This is the place," she said. "See, we were attacked, and we thought the spell had been interrupted. But these big pieces are all still here." She picked up a shard of the urn and offered it to him.

"The works of Osiris are not easily destroyed," Adam said solemnly.

Tara nodded. The shard in her hand was ice-cold and seemed to vibrate, as though it were eager to leap away. Just touching it brought back nightmarish visions of Willow in pain. Relaxing her arm, she moved the shard back and forth like a divining rod, pausing when she felt a reaction from the tall grass. Adam picked up each piece, cradling them carefully in his left hand.

"Much of its power has dissipated," he said, "but I can work with this." She handed him her piece, and he smiled like a man who was trying hard not to smile. "I can definitely work with this. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Tara wondered more than a little what exactly he planned to do with the urn. His reaction when he thought it had been destroyed had seemed genuine enough; nonetheless she had no great desire to be an accessory to his brand of badness. "Um, good luck."

He nodded in acknowledgment. "I would like to offer you some advice, if I may." Surprised, she listened quietly as he continued, "Among my gifts from the gods is insight, and when I brushed your aura earlier, I gained some insight into you. These are terrible times for us all, but you are on the edge. Fate has rolled the dice for you, but they have not landed yet." His eyes wandered from hers as his gaze became vacant. "I saw you standing by the white witch . . . the white witch with the black heart. You stood by her, and – and Anubis stood at your shoulder." He looked back at her, his face grim. "Beware."

With a little puff of golden energy around his feet, Black Adam rose into the night sky, and within seconds he was lost to sight. Tara stared after him for a few minutes, her heart racing. Phrases like those he had spoken were common in the mystical realms, and she needed no hints to guess at their meaning. Part of her wanted to push them away, dismiss them as the words of Black Adam the evil sorcerer. Black Adam the murderer, Black Adam the betrayer, Black Adam the liar.

Yet when he brushed her aura, she had also brushed his. With his insight into her, came insight for her into him. And Tara knew that every word he had spoken was true.