The bar was a dark, gloomy contrast to the bright day outside. Faith blinked and paused just inside the entry to allow her eyes time to adjust. Sunnydale sure wasn't Boston. There were no themed decorations on the walls or throbbing bass from loud industrial rock music. Instead, the bar was quiet except for the low murmur of conversations. It did have the familiar stench of beer and bodily fluids, though. Hiding her distaste, Faith strode through the nearly deserted scene area for the bar shoved into a far corner.
"Jack and Coke," she told the bartender.
He looked at her in disbelief. "The last time you showed up, that Brit from the Slayer House threatened to get my liquor license revoked. You want to drink, you do it somewhere else. You want to hook up? The equipment's free."
Faith's hand was across the bar and tangled in his shirt in a flash. Slayer speed ruled. "I ain't working for the Brit no more."
The man behind the counter had Faith by a hundred pounds and a dozen years. He still froze like a mouse in front of a cat.
"You got two choices: the drink or pain." Faith unleashed the smile she normally reserved for vampires. She gave the bartender fifteen seconds before he reached for the booze. It might actually only have been less before a glass slammed onto the bar in front of her. Releasing his shirt, Faith stepped back and tapped her fingers on the smooth bar top while the bartender poured her drink. "Thanks. Knew you were a bright one." Since Faith wasn't looking for trouble - and she had money - she tossed a twenty down. "Line 'em up."
One after another, five glasses joined the first on the bar. "Anything else?"
"Nah. I'm good." More than good. Faith relaxed enough to smile and tack on a polite, "Thanks." Turning away, she leaned her back against the bar and scanned the play areas. One couple in a far corner. A scattering of single drinkers tucked into the nearly-hidden alcoves at the edge of the floor. Two pairs heading down the back hall to the private rooms.
Not a lot of action. It was too early, damn it. Faith tossed back her first drink, enjoying the burn and the sweet flavor masking the heavier liquor. She should have realized there would be slim pickings during the afternoon. A glance at her watch said there were still a few hours until her dinner with Richard.
"Aren't you a little young for the hard stuff?" A voice intruded on Faith's contemplation of time. The woman attached to the voice didn't look away when Faith glared in her direction. In fact, she smirked and crossed her arms over her chest. Muscles rippled in her arms and chest, casually displayed by a tight leather vest.
It took more than muscles to impress Faith. "You the booze police?" Daring the woman to stop her, she downed the second Jack and Coke. Her head buzzed in response.
"You didn't answer my question," the woman stated. Her gaze hardened, pinning Faith in place. "How old are you?"
A frisson of…something tugged at Faith. Straightening, she fought the emotion. Fought a rising need to lower her head and tell the woman, the Dominant, what she wanted to know. She wasn't some pushover submissive.
Moving in closer, right into Faith's personal space, the woman continued. "I think you've had enough, little girl."
The pet name stung. Faith started to protest but there was suddenly no air in the room. The temperature in the bar rose until she flushed and began to sweat before immediately chilling to Arctic levels. She sucked in a panicked breath. The woman was too close. Too close. She couldn't breathe. Faith jerked back, banging painfully into the bar.
"Easy." Expression intent, the woman slid back a step and watched Faith closely. "I won't hurt you unless you ask. Calm down. Eyes on me. Breathe." She waited until Faith's eyes rose, locking onto her. "Good girl. That's it. Breathe slowly."
Faith relaxed with each breath she took in time with the Dominant. As the panic faded the pressure inside Faith's chest and head expanded. The barroom grew a little hazy. It was like Faith floated a couple of inches off the floor.
"You back with me now?" The woman didn't crowd Faith again. She stood, completely relaxed and in control, a few feet away, patiently waiting for Faith's answer.
"Yeah." Faith's chin dropped an inch. Two. "Back off," she warned the woman. She wasn't looking to play. And she would never submit to this woman. All she wanted was a drink. Unfortunately, her warning lacked any bite. It was a mumble, at best. A pathetic whisper of sound, at worst.
"What was that?" Gentle mockery made Faith's skin burn, yet she didn't move. "Tell me what you want, little girl. If you really want me to leave you alone, I will."
No. Yes. Stay. Go. Faith's mind and body warred. Need mixed with confusion and a tendril of fear.
"Hope those cuffs aren't too tight, girlie." Flushed and sweating, the john tightened the rigid metal handcuff until Faith cried out. She yanked on it anyway, desperate to get away, as the john stepped back and stared at her. "The bitch out front said you knew how to act. She lied. You ain't gotta clue. You better learn fast."
Faith barely heard him. She writhed and twisted; nothing she did made a difference. The only thing she accomplished was pissing off the john.
"Lesson Number One, you don't move unless I tell you. Got it?" Less than a second later his hand crashed into Faith's cheek. "Yes, Sir! You say 'yes, Sir,' when I tell you to do something or ask you a question."
"Yes, Ma'am," Faith answered. The bar and her long ago bedroom overlapped into a waking nightmare. Barely breathing, she tensed, ready to flee or fight. Glasses rattled behind her and Faith jerked in response.
"Easy. Come on, kid. Take it easy." The woman's voice went from seductive to soothing. "No one here is going to hurt you." She kept talking, but the words went over, around, and through Faith. She didn't hear them. They were a soft buzz in the background as voices from her past echoed in her mind.
"You like it when they hurt you, don't you, little slut." Cigarette smoke curled toward the ceiling where a blue-gray cloud hovered. "Maybe I should get you one of them bracelet things; 'cept I'd lose out on the ones wantin' you to do the hurtin.'" Faith's mother coughed, each exhale rattling in her throat.
Wrenching her mind back to the present, Faith shoved past the woman and ran for the door. She ignored the shout from behind and dodged the bouncer as he moved to intercept her. By the time she hit the parking lot, Faith was at full Slayer speed. Each step took her away from the bar.
She couldn't outrun the memories, though. They followed her. Taunted her.
"Somehow we missed her. The Spell isn't infallible, no matter what the witches say." Diana looked at Faith like she was gum stuck to the bottom of her high-heeled shoes. "It's my duty to turn her into a real Slayer; Quentin himself asked me to take her on as a personal favor."
Faith glared at her. She was in the room, damn it. She could hear everything Diana said to the man sitting behind the big desk.
"You want the full complement of tests?" The man's accent didn't match Diana's. He spoke slowly (to Faith), and the words bled together.
"Yes. If I'm going to have even a chance of success, I need to know everything. But I don't want the results sent to the Council. Send them to me, and I'll decide what to put in her file."
Faith skidded to a halt, panting and covered in sweat. The sun beat down on her. The bright, cool day had turned blisteringly hot. Glancing around, Faith realized she'd run all the way through town. Sunset Ridge, shaded by towering trees and riddled with overgrown paths, sat in front of her. Steps unsteady, Faith walked into the wood. Birds chirped occasionally. And rustling all around indicated animals dashing for cover as she invaded their home.
Ignoring it all, Faith skirted the manicured grounds of Talisker House Bed and Breakfast. Eventually, she located the perfect spot. A grouping of tall rocks protected a patch of grass at the very edge of Smuggler's Bluff. Faith curled up there and watched the waves crash into the beach far below.
"Shouldn't you be going the other direction?" Buffy trotted down the stairs with most of her usual grace intact. There was still a hint of stiffness and extra care as she skipped the final few steps in favor of a single leap. "You're running in, not out."
"I decided to break with tradition," Tara said solemnly. "Predictability is boring, don't you think?"
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Don't let Giles hear you say that. He'll set you up as a weapons instructor and turn you loose on the advanced 'what would you use if' lesson." Her shudder indicated this was a fate worse than death. "If you ever get the urge to lecture me on how a cereal spoon can be used to kill a vampire, warn me, OK?"
"I'm pretty sure you're safe, Buffy." Tara put her hands on her hips and gave Buffy her best Dominant glare. "But I might start on the lecture about only going on patrol when you're healthy and uninjured." Her right hand snapped up, forestalling the lie she knew was coming. "Don't. I'm not stupid. You're not recovered from whatever happened last night. Do I have to tell Mr. Giles?" It was a bluff. Not to mention Giles had to be aware that Buffy wasn't a hundred percent.
"Oooh! Scary Domme Face." Raising her arms over her head, Buffy stretched. She was good, but not good enough to keep Tara from noticing the way the skin next to her eyes tightened. Buffy was still in pain. "Save that for your bondmate, Lady Tara. I'm immune – and I'm fine. Besides, I won't have to patrol alone for long. Watcher Wes will have a brand new Junior Slayer here to help me in a couple of days."
Tara wasn't backing down. "Can you wait until after my class? I can go with you."
"No can do, Tara. Giles has completed his pre-patrol briefing. I'm briefed and chock full of informational goodness. Now it's time to go forth and kill undead things." Buffy didn't move away, though. Instead, she gave Tara an intense once-over. "But I could be convinced to give the vamps and demons a short break if you need to talk. You look like you've had a long day."
As much as Tara liked Buffy, she wasn't ready to share her afternoon. She mimicked Buffy's stretch. "I'm fine," she said and dared Buffy to call her on the lie.
"That's not funny." Buffy pouted for a minute. "I used to think you were nice."
"Hi, Pot. I'm Kettle," Tara said softly. "And I'm not always nice. I am a Dominant, after all. Sometimes that means giving a...sub what they need and not what they think they want." She wasn't going to back down. Buffy was not up to patrol. "You want to go out alone. But what do you really need?"
Buffy lost her smile. In fact, if Tara hadn't been prepared for her reaction, she might have actually stepped back at the cold, lethal glare she received. "You think I need your permission?"
The atmosphere in the foyer had turned on a dime. Buffy and Tara were inches apart. "That isn't what I said, sweetie." Tara wasn't looking for a Dominant showdown. "I'm worried about you, that's all. I know you have to go out." With Faith gone, there were no other Slayers in Sunnydale. "Can you at least wait until after my class? I'd be happy to go with you."
"I can go with her, Tara." Xander interrupted their standoff from the living room entry. "If that's alright with you, Buffy?"
Buffy was about to refuse. "Xan, we talked about this."
It must be something in the air. Buffy really had a hang up with taking someone on patrol. Tara deftly stepped in and interrupted. "Oh, thank you, Xander. I've never been on patrol. Magic is only helpful if you're not too busy running – and gasping – to chant a spell. Janna said you were a big part of the team. You'll do Buffy more good." So there, she silently dared Buffy. Turning her head slightly, she winked at Xander and enjoyed his quickly-smothered grin.
"Buffy?" he asked. Tara wanted to smack him; he was ruining her perfect setup. But she understood his reasoning. Buffy was his Dominant, and they'd already nearly ruined their relationship over his being injured on a patrol.
Or was he? Buffy's resolute expression had faltered. Sidestepping Tara, she walked over and kissed him softly. "I don't want you to get hurt again, Xan."
"I know." Xander raised his hand, stopping just short of touching Buffy's cheek. His fingers hovered between them. "But I don't understand. I got hurt once, because I decided to be stupid and manly and tackle a vampire on my own. I'm sorry, Buffy. I was sorry then. It's different now. I want to patrol with you again, like I used to with you and Willow. I promise I'll hide behind you when the vamps come out. And you know I'm really good at running away."
Unwilling to interrupt or intrude further, Tara leaned against the staircase and waited for Buffy to admit Xander was right. "What if something happens?"
So much for that. Tara stifled a sigh at Buffy's stubborn response.
Luckily, Xander was persistent. "Buffy, if I let you collar me, are you going to lock me up in the house and never let me out? I love you. I'm yours." There was no hint of goofy Xander as he continued. "I'm not helpless, though. You know that. You've taught me everything I know about self-defense and fighting. You helped me whittle my first stake. Let me go with you. Let me be the guy you fell in love with before the bond got in the way."
He was so sweet. Tara's eyes misted and she held her breath against a sniff.
"I do love you," Buffy said quietly. "I'm also an idiot, aren't I?"
Proving he was smart as well as sweet, Xander didn't say anything. He simply stood and calmly waited for Buffy to come to her senses.
"Fine." Tara figured Buffy wasn't as put out as she sounded. Not if Buffy's tiny grin was any indication. "We need to get you some stakes before we go." Taking Xander's hand, Buffy pulled him toward the stairs. "Happy now?" she asked Tara with a watered-down glare.
To respond or not to respond? Tara considered the wisdom of silent, stoic victory for less than a heartbeat. "Yes." Smiling sunnily, she added, "So are you." Buffy's mock made Tara laugh. "Be safe, both of you. And wish me luck. I'm facing something almost as scary as demons: my first Magic 101 class."
"Watch out for Noreen," Xander called out as he and Buffy climbed the stairs. "She started a fire last week."
A fire. In a beginning magic class. What had Tara gotten herself into? Steeling herself for magical mayhem, she strode through the House and into the back yard. New faces populated the tables and chairs on the patio. Disappointment struck Tara hard and fast. Faith wasn't there; wouldn't be there to share a table and peace and quiet after a long day.
"Hey, Tara, right? I'm Amy. You probably don't remember." An auburn-haired young woman approached and held out her hand. "Althenea commandeered you before we had a chance to talk. I was there with…"
"Michael. Of course I remember." Tara shook Amy's hand. "Are you here for the class? The discussion I interrupted wasn't beginner level. Anything by Aldis is dense." She smirked. "And you were holding your own against Althenea."
Amy rolled her eyes. "Please. The old biddy had us on the run. I was so glad Janna dragged you over to say hello."
"Well, you looked fine to me," Tara assured her. She didn't mention she'd been so nervous when Janna had done the introductions she hadn't paid much attention to Amy. Althenea had scared her to death. "Come on. Let's go on to class. I'll grill you more later."