The cold was a shock after the warmth of the club. Faith hadn't taken a lot of time to put all her clothes back on. She'd stuffed her T-shirt in the pocket of her jeans and dragged her denim jacket over nothing more than her bra.
Her back burned and itched where the jacket rubbed against the fresh marks.
Faith stuffed her hands in her pockets and pulled the jacket down, increasing the friction over the whip marks. She deserved the pain. She deserved more. The memory of Tara's shock and disbelief at Faith's actions. The terrible rending pain, like a living cartoon character whose heart had been ripped in half. Only Tara hadn't been laughing; she'd been bleeding, deep inside.
Her footsteps picked up speed as she fled the club. The Mayor had won. No surprise. He'd held all the cards since Faith had run into him on the sidewalk. He was invincible, and Faith could never tell anyone any of the things she'd witnessed.
Now, thanks to her actions in the bar, Faith could never go back to Tara. The sidewalk glittered through the kaleidoscope lens of tears. Her chest ached with sobs trapped deep inside.
Sobbing sounded even through the thick walls of the Slayer HQ. Faith rolled over and held her pillow tightly around her head. The sound continued unabated.
"God damn it!" With a snarl, Faith rolled out of bed and stalked to the door. She'd give whoever was bawling in the other room something to cry about. Not bothering to drag on regulation sweats or shorts over her very non-regulation sleepwear, Faith pounded on her neighbor's door.
The sobbing finally stopped. Faith was about to turn away in victory when the door inched open. A tiny head appeared. Tiny eyes, swollen by tears, peered at Faith. A mini-Slayer. The kid couldn't be more than five.
Faith's tirade died on her lips. "Hey," she said softly. "Uh…"
A sniffle prefaced an arm-swipe of a very runny nose.
All of Faith's irritation fizzled and died. The kid looked miserable. "I was havin' a nightmare," Faith lied. "You look like you're kinda tough. Mind if I bunk with you?"
"I'm not tough," the little girl said.
No shit. She looked petrified and like a sneeze would blow her over. "Tougher than me. I hate it here." That was no lie. "Need somebody like you to keep me safe." Not giving the kid an option, Faith pushed inside the room. It was big and empty and it dwarfed the mini Slayer who trailed her all the way to the bed. "When you get here? Ain't nobody been in this wing 'cept me for weeks."
"Today." The little girl hovered at the side of the bed as Faith burrowed under the covers and folded the crappy, flat pillow in half.
"You gonna stand guard?" Faith held the covers up. "That ain't gonna help with my nightmare. Need you to be right here. Only way for me to feel safe." And only in their dreams would the poor kid be able to kill anything bigger than a spider.
After another minute (one where Faith wondered why the Hell she was wasting her time), the kid climbed into bed. "I won't let anything happen to you," the mini Slayer vowed – right before she tried to become one with Faith and zonked out.
Tara had been Faith's mini Slayer. She'd promised to keep Faith safe even though she, too, had looked completely helpless. And if a single sob slipped out of Faith's control, she'd be just like that kid in Boston and sob forever.
It sounded like a pretty fucking good option. If only sitting on the sidewalk and crying like a baby would do any good. Crying was a waste of time.
Of course, Faith had nothing else to actually do with her time. She'd effectively killed the party mood. Not even Monica was mean and nasty enough to keep the celebration going. Faith reconsidered that. She might be happy that Faith was gone. She'd never seemed to approve of Faith's bonding to Tara.
The rest of Tara's friends probably thought Faith wasn't good enough for Tara now, too. Faith couldn't blame them. Hell, she agreed with them. Unfortunately, being labeled "not good enough" wasn't enough. The Mayor had to believe Faith and Tara were on the verge of a full bond repudiation.
Faith stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Repudiate the bond. It was what she'd wanted. She'd told Tara that the minute she'd realized Tara was in her head. Faith had pretty much spit on the bond in the bar already. If she turned up at the Bond Registration Office on Monday and ended the whole thing? No one would be surprised.
A little more of Faith's soul curled up and died. She stumbled off the sidewalk and leaned against the nearby building. She'd been lying. To Tara. To herself. Faith stroked the cuff on her wrist, fingers tracing the mark burned into the surface. She didn't want to repudiate the bond – or Tara. Her muscles flexed; she started to straighten.
Faith took a single step toward the bar before crumpling back against the wall. She couldn't rush to Tara and confess she wanted to stay. That irritating little voice in Faith's head screamed that confession wasn't enough. Faith would have to beg Tara to forgive her and take her back.
She couldn't choose that option no matter how much she wanted. Faith actually agreed with that little internal voice; she'd have to grovel before Tara would even consider forgiving her. But that wasn't the real reason, Faith didn't return to the club. She didn't trust the Mayor to buy her act with Zajicek. Tara and her friends might have; they didn't know Faith as well as the Mayor. He'd seen her mooning over a display of collars. He wasn't going to give Tara a free pass after one big scene. Faith had to sell the fact she'd turned her back on Tara; that Tara was no threat to him.
Faith couldn't run away from her mistakes anymore. She'd chosen to follow the Mayor the night she'd left the House. To keep Tara safe, Faith would have to do the last thing she wanted: repudiate Tara.
Pushing away from the building, Faith continued walking. She might have created this situation, but the Mayor… The Mayor was going down. Faith simply needed a plan. A good one. It wouldn't be easy. Killing an invincible man wasn't like staking a demon. Swords and knives were out. Faith wandered aimlessly through downtown and Sunnydale's less affluent neighborhoods.
Solutions were scarce. Completely missing, in fact. Faith had no idea how to defeat the Mayor. All she had were Slayer skills; skills Wes had said were pathetic. Not even Buffy could beat a man who'd glued himself back together after being cut in half. It was no use. They were all doomed.
Tired, defeated, Faith used the last of the money the Mayor had given her to rent a room at the Sunnydale Motor Inn. The stench of stale cigarettes and sex reminded her of Boston. Picking up the remote, she turned on the television to block out the terrible silence in the room – and in her mind.
The link no longer glowed around the edges where Tara's thoughts and emotions waited for Faith to let them in. Everything was dark. Faith left the lights off, watching fuzzy shapes and colors play across the screen.
Faith wrapped the thin, cigarette-burned blanket around her. She was so cold. Then warmth suddenly surrounded her and her skin tingled.
Tara. Faith rolled over, searching in her mind… And found only a lingering swirl of magic that enveloped her. Tara hadn't come for Faith. She hadn't reached through their link and commanded Faith to come home.
Tara had, in spite of how much Faith had hurt her, replaced the magical shields around Faith. Keeping Faith safe, just like she'd promised. Burying her face in the pillow, Faith muffled the sobs she could no longer hold back. I'm so sorry, she whispered at the closed off link, but there was no answer.
Tara snuck out of the house before the sun was up. She couldn't face Maxie and Trish's sympathy anymore. They meant well. They wanted to be there for her. To help. All of their too cheerful comments and the bright smiles and hugs pushed Tara right to the edge, though. She'd wanted to scream at them the night before when they'd dragged her home from the bar.
All she'd wanted to do was hide away and lick her wounds. Actually, just wound. One large, gaping hole in her chest where her heart had been until last night. None of Trish's understanding glances or Maxie's well-meaning platitudes would cover that hole. Tara wasn't sure she'd ever recover.
"What was all that about? Did you guys plan a scene for tonight?" Brian asked as Faith headed across the clubroom. He lifted Sue off his lap and pointed at a pillow on the floor. "Sorry, honey. I need a refill. You'll be fine down there until I get back. Do you want anything, Tara? Or Faith?"
Scene? "No." Tara stopped paying attention to Brian, to any of her friends, as Faith sauntered up to a big, nasty-looking Dominant. What was she doing? Tara's stomach did a slow roll. Something wasn't right.
What an understatement. Life had been anything but right since yesterday when Tara had crossed a line and driven Faith away. She knew it was her fault. They'd been…happy. Yes, happy, when they'd left the club and their evening together on Friday. Faith had held Tara's hand. Smiled.
"Go with that leather thing that'd shove your boobs up." Faith mimed what she meant, hands cupping her own breasts.
Tara wanted to roll her eyes and move away from the window. There was no way she would ever wear a corset like that. It would absolutely shove her already too-large breasts up – and push them nearly out of the leather cups. Not to mention the way it would leave her stomach on display. Tara hoped Faith didn't notice her shudder. Goddess, that corset would be terrible. Except, Faith was still watching her. Eyes bright and full of mischief.
If only they'd never stopped at Collars and Cuffs. If only Tara had not lost her head in the thrill of the day and some stupid Dominant need to possess. That was the moment everything had changed.
There had been fear in Faith's eyes. She'd been terrified of those collars. And Tara had still pushed. Unconsciously hunching, Tara tried to shield herself from that memory. Hair made a bad barricade, though.
"You want it, don't you?" Faith pointed at the display window.
Tara should have lied. She should have told Faith that she didn't want to collar her.
Goddess, why hadn't Tara simply laughed and turned the whole thing into a joke? Now Faith was gone. She'd walked away from Tara without looking back. Tara didn't even know where Faith was. It had been unbelievably difficult not to reach for Faith through the link; to leave it completely closed and locked.
Tara's only infringement on Faith's need for freedom had been the protective magical shields. She'd apologize to Faith and the Goddess for violating Faith's right to choose Tara's protection, but she wasn't sorry.
As the sun edged over the horizon, Tara admitted she'd lost everything she'd never known she wanted: a soulmate, a group of close friends, and a job she loved. Once Faith formally ended their bond, Tara would leave Sunnydale. Her determination to stay, regardless of Faith's decision about their bonding, hadn't survived the previous night. Tara wouldn't impose on Maxie and Trish anymore. And the Council job, no matter how much Tara enjoyed the chance to practice magic, would be too much of a reminder of Faith.
The decision helped Tara. It gave her a goal. Get through today, get through the Mayor. Then she could return to the quiet, solitary life she'd had when she'd first come to Sunnydale.
Her newfound peace was tested, though, when Tara glanced up. The doughnut shop was right up the block.
Steeling her resolve, Tara continued down the sidewalk. She wasn't putting herself through that. She wasn't going to buy breakfast and moon over Faith on the patio. Her stride was quick and sure. Tara was a woman in complete control of her emotions and her actions.
Ten minutes later, Tara sat down at the table where she'd met Faith and shared their first kiss. The jelly doughnut she'd bought sat uneaten on the plate. This trip wasn't about eating. It was about saying goodbye.
The day she'd met Faith here, Tara had been reading lessons on Dominance and honesty. Tara prided herself on honesty, yet she had to admit she'd never tried to tell Faith how she felt. And she'd only managed to hint at her past. Because Tara hadn't wanted to push Faith? Or because she hadn't wanted to push herself?
Closing her eyes, Tara imagined Faith and the teasing curl to her lips.
"You get your 'grrr' on because of that book?" Faith asked.
Tara controlled the memory. Altered it. She hadn't been honest with Faith that day. She would be now. "Sort of. It gave me some advice I didn't like. It told me I had to be honest with myself, and I'm not good at that. I hide a lot of things. About myself. My family."
Would that kind of honesty have changed the course of their relationship? Tara didn't know. She simply told her imaginary Faith every detail of her life before Sunnydale. All her hopes and fears. And, finally, she whispered the most damning truths out loud. "I love you, Faith. I love you, and I wanted you in my life forever. In my collar and at my feet. I'm sorry you didn't want me back." She almost couldn't finish. Honesty sometimes hurt. "And I'm angry. You hurt me, Faith."
Shaking, Tara opened her eyes. People now sat at the other tables on the patio; she'd never heard them arrive. Sunlight brightened the sky. Tara waited for all that honesty to make her feel better, cleansed.
She waited a long time and then admitted she would never feel better because Faith was still gone. "Goodbye, my Slayer." Tara threw away her doughnut and trudged from the patio. It was time to stop feeling sorry for herself and accomplish her first big challenge: getting rid of the Mayor. Digging her phone from her backpack, she dialed the Summers' home.
"Hello?" Joyce answered.
Tara hadn't left the Summers home on a happy note. She had, in fact, stormed out filled with righteous indignation that they'd wanted Tara to use Faith as a resource against the Mayor. "You still don't see her as a person, do you?" She'd squared her shoulders and ignored need to bend before Joyce's Dominant glare. "You're no better than the Council."
"We came to you as Faith's Dominant. We did not send a team of armed men to steal her off the streets." Joyce was angry. It was clear in the way her voice softened dropped to a terrifying softness.
"No, you didn't." Smarting from the rebuke, Tara lost her temper. "But neither one of you cared enough before now to help Faith. You," she rounded on Joyce, "didn't want to interfere even though you thought the way the Council treated Faith was wrong. And you," it was Willow's turn, "thought she deserved what she got because she teased you. If the Mayor wasn't eating spiders out of a box, you would never have wanted to talk to me or Faith."
"Joyce, it's Tara. I'm s-sorry about what I said yesterday." Joyce was smart enough not to say anything, and Tara used the opportunity to explain her call. "You were right. I should be helping you with the Mayor." She wouldn't tell Joyce about Faith leaving yet. "I need to talk to a friend of Janna's in LA. Can I stop by tonight and talk to you and Willow?" If Melody didn't have anything on how the Mayor might become a demon, Tara would help the Scoobies dig through every book Giles had.
"Of course, honey. You're welcome anytime, and if it's late, call first. I can pick you up or have Buffy escort you here." Joyce paused, and Tara started to end the call. "Are you alright? You sound…different."
Damn Joyce for being so perceptive. "I'm fine," she lied. Honesty had a time and place. This wasn't either the time or the place. "I'll talk to you tonight." She hung up before Joyce could mine for more information on her well-being. She needed to get to the bus station. Borrowing Trish's car required going back to the house and facing her friends. Tara wasn't ready for that.
Running through her plans for the day, Tara didn't notice the truck pull up to the curb. She didn't see the two men get out and run toward her.
She noticed nothing until it was too late. "I told you never to run from me," her father growled right before he swung a meaty fist at her chin. The punch hit her shields. They barely fluoresced. Tara tried to bolster the barrier but she didn't have enough energy left. The next punch slid easily through the shielding. When it landed, the sunlight disappeared and Tara dropped bonelessly to the sidewalk.
