"Don't you worry your pretty little mind, people throw rocks at things that shine."

- Taylor Swift, "Ours"

Paige's POV

After searching for over an hour, (Giles had decided that I could continue my interviews, while he did research, Anyway; I didn't know my way around Sunnydale, seeing as how it didn't exist when I was born. Also, Giles is bad with directions.) I had found the Maclay household.

It wasn't much of a house, really. It was fairly small, and lots and lots of paint had peeled off of the outer walls. Shingles had fallen of off the roof, the grass in the yard was patchy and yellow, with only a little green on the edges. The name 'MACLAY' was engraved in bold letters on the wall next to the door, painted over in black, which was also fading. There was a trailer parked in the back.

My initial first thought was "Tara. Tara doesn't deserve this. She deserves better."

I stood for a moment, just staring.

I quickly thought of the (lame) story I had been explaining, to tell at the door. From what I had gathered, her "family" wasn't home. At least, I hoped. Now that I think of it, I had heard some yelling while passing by the house earlier when I was looking around Sunnydale earlier. But the house was quiet now.

I slowly walked up to the door and on to the porch.

After standing there for about a minute, I finally gained up the courage to knock on the door.

"Just do it." I thought, as I felt my hand collide with the wooden door.

I waited a moment. It was quiet, except for the occasional car passing by or a dog barking from across the street.

The door opened.

It revealed a person that looked like Tara. But it wasn't. This was not the Tara I knew. The Tara standing in front of me was different. She had red and purple bruises on her face and body. A scratch on her cheek. The blonde hair that usually bounced on her shoulders now had knots and snarls, it looked as thought it hadn't been brushed for days. The green eyes that were usually filled with life and happiness looked at me - through me - with sadness and fear flickering in them. And the lips that usually presented a happy, lopsided grin were straight, and showed no sign of emotion

whatsoever.

"I did this."

I wanted to cry.

"I did this to Tara."

I wanted to break down and sit on the creaky porch steps and sob my eyes out.

I didn't.

"Um - hi. I-I'm interviewing neighbors for the school n-newspaper - about their l-l-lives and I-I was wondering if, maybe, I could ask you a few questions?"

"Great job Paige, you're really blowing it! You'd think you would have it down by now, but nooo." I thought in my head.

"Oh, shut up." I mumbled under my breath, just loud enough so that only I could hear.

She looked around, as if making sure that no one else was around.

"Uhh...w-well..."

I gave her a hopeful look.

"Okay."

And then she did the unthinkable.

"Y-you can come in."

She let me into her home.

Tara let a complete stranger into her house!

I mean, I could've been a serial killer, 0-or a vampire for all she knew!

But I wasn't.

That's the thing about Tara. She's always had trust in people. I mean, probably not those people, who were supposedly her "family," but...

"W-what was it you wanted to talk to me a-about?"

I walked into the house slowly, taking in everything around me.

There was a large book shelf on the left side, but it was mostly empty. A table with papers scattered everywhere. I looked closer. They were bills, a lot of them. By the amount, they looked like they were long over due. From the looks of it, This family was barely getting by. There were flowers on the table, but they were dead and wilted. There was a book peeking out from a chest, but I couldn't read the title. It looked very familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on it...

"E-Excuse me?"

My head snapped up.

"Oh, s-s-sorry!"

Tara led me over to the couch. She sat in a chair across from me, and for a moment we just eyed each other. Again.

"So...l-like I said, I'll be asking you some simple questions. Like..." I trailed off, thinking of questions, when they started to pop into my head.

I had already interviewed about five people, so you'd think I'd be a pro by this point, but I was just really nervous. I had forgotten everything.

"Uh - Well for starters, what's your name?"

"Tara Maclay."

"I-I'm T-Tara M-Maclay."

"When's your birthday?"

"October 16, 1980. Exactly one day, 31 minutes, and 2 seconds before mine. Different year obviously, but..."

"O-October 16."

I smiled. "That's cool. Mine's October 17!," I pause.

"You already know that. In fact, you were there that day. You held me. You talked to me. You KNEW me."

I think I saw a spark in her eyes for a second, and maybe a little smile creeping upon her face; but they quickly faded when the next set of words came out of my mouth.

"So...What's your l-life like?"

Now, getting an answer to this question took a while. I mean, it doesn't take a genius to know that something was very wrong with this picture. The condition of the house, the condition of Tara...

Because of previous events in my universe, I had been able to piece Tara's life in this universe together.

In my universe: Tara's "family" (father, brother, and cousin,) had come to take her away on the weekend on her 21st birthday. Tara had been told that when she turned 21, she would become a demon. But because the Scooby Gang was there, she never let Sunnydale. In fact, she found out the demon thing was just a family legend to keep the ladies from using magic. So they left. And Tara stayed and had what she said was her "best birthday."

In this universe: Since the Scoobies had never met, they hadn't been there to stop Tara's affairs from taking her. So Tara was taken back home. Now, I don't what drove her "family" to abuse her, but they do. She's afraid to say so.

"M-my l-life?" She asked after about 5 minutes.

"Yeah," I nodded, "Your life."

"It's, u-um- it's okay. I-I mean, I-I'm not sure how to describe it."

"Who do you live with?"

She played with her shirt.

"M-my Dad and my brother, and my cousin."

"What about your Mom?" I already knew the answer to this question. I already knew the answer to all of these questions, but in order to "befriend" her, which was the first step in my plan, I had to push her a little bit.

"O-oh. S-she died when I was younger." She spoke quietly.

I made a sad face. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"I-it's ok. She- it's ok."

I quietly sighed.

"What about-"

A second later I would be shooed out of the house.

I knew something was up when Tara suddenly looked around again. She had heard something.

My ears perked up and I heard it too. It was voices, coming from outside.

"I-I'm sorry, I have some stuff I-I, um, need to do."

I got up, confused.

"O-okay. I'm sure I'll see you around. I can continue the interview another day."

Tara quickly and silently nodded.

She led me to the door, where I almost tripped on the front porch.

She apologized, but I just waved it off. "It's fine, I'M fine, d-don't worry about it."

As I walked away from the house, I saw where the voices were coming from and I realized why I had suddenly had to leave, and why Tara was frightened.

They were coming from Tara's father, brother, and cousin, who were a few blocks away.

I guess Tara wasn't allowed to have guests over. She was afraid of what would happen to her if the found out. I was afraid of what would happen to her if they found out.

As I started to walk away from the house, I remembered that I hadn't said goodbye. So I turned around.

"Hey Tara?" I called from the sidewalk.

She slowly looked up at me again.

"Y-y-yeah?"

I smiled. "I like you."

And for the first time in what seemed like forever, I actually saw Tara's trademark happy, lopsided smile appear on her face, before I turned and walked away from the broken scene.

A/N: FAVORITE CHAPTER IVE WRITTEN SO FAR