Brave New World
Chapter Five

"What do you miss most?" Dawn asked, grabbing another dry cracker from the packet on the table.

It was all they had enough to munch on until the weekly food drop arrived the next day.

"Huh?" Andrew asked, looking up from his steady perusal of the crumbs scattered across the table.

"Well, being here, we miss out on stuff. Like Doyle, he says he misses good Irish beer the most. Willow misses coffee at the Espresso Pump and nights at the Bronze. Wes says he misses chocolate and - duh - books. So, what do you miss?"

He refrained from answering that he missed his brother. It was true, but he figured Dawn was talking about material things. He heard her family and loads of her friends died, so he shrugged and went for the material side of things.

"I dunno," he tilted his head to the side and thought for a moment. "I guess I haven't read a graphic novel in two years, I miss that. The military drop food, sure, but they don't drop the latest X-Men. Or the new DVD of Stargate. And I wish I could have seen the X-Men movie. It came out last year, I think, I was looking forward to it. Who knows," he almost pouted, "they've probably got a sequel out by now. They might have Gambit in it. And Jubilee, I bet she's hot. How about you? What do you miss?"

"I miss…" Dawn considered it for a moment. "Music. For all I know, country has made a come back or the Waltons have formed a band and are taking over the world."

"Or the Beatles are back," Andrew added.

"Without Lennon?" Dawn frowned. "Never happen. I miss Friends too. I've missed, like, two of the new seasons. It might even have finished."

"Yeah," Andrew sank into a depression along with Dawn. "Hey, y'think Joey and Phoebe got it on, 'cause I always thought they'd be so great together."

"Really? When I said that to Willow, she totally freaked. She said Phoebe and Joey could never have a proper relationship 'cause they're both too wacky, which, coming from Willow… Oh and get this, Wesley insists that Phoebe was made for Chandler."

"That's…" Andrew searched for a word. "Just insane and wrong."

"Tell me about it. But, hey, he's English. You've got to make allowances for him. At least he's not saying Ross and Chandler have all this un-resolved sexual tension, like Doyle."

"That's… Well, firstly, just ew and secondly, Ross could never put up with Chandler like that. It would never work. Oh, did you ever watch -"

"Look lively, kids," Doyle poked his head around the door of the kitchen. "Big sis is back and she ain't happy."

Dawn scrambled out of the kitchen, pushing past Doyle, closely followed by Andrew. The gang where gathering at the entrance as they always did when someone came home. Spike hefted the barrier to one side and Buffy strode in, Wesley tailed after her, ashen faced, looking like he'd just got the absolute shock of his life.

"Buffy?" Dawn ventured hesitantly.

"Listen up!" Buffy said in ringing tones, ignoring her sister. "For two years, we've been hiding here, trying to help people, trying to survive. Is anyone else sick of it?" there was a stunned silence and Buffy glared at them, waiting for an answer. "Well?"

"Too bloody right we're sick of it, Slayer," Spike said, slowly unfolding his arms and straightening up to challenge Buffy. "But we're stuck playing follow the leader and you're not going anywhere at all. So yeah, sick of this crap is accurate."

Willow laid a hand on Spike's arm, he shot her a chance and his mouth snapped shut as he exhaled hard through his nose and took a step back from Buffy, folding his arms again.

"That's about to change," Buffy's glare flicked from Spike and over the others in the group. "We couldn't wage war 'cause of the people in this town. So here's the thing: we get them out. If they won't listen to us and they won't get out, they die. Make sure they know that."

"We're declaring war?" Anya asked. "But you said we're not strong enough!"

"We're as strong as we're ever gonna be! But we do need weapons. Willow, Tara, think you could get a message to the military. I want a goddamn arsenal."

"Sure, we can do that," Willow glanced at Tara who nodded in agreement.

"Good," Buffy said, her voice hard edged. "We get the people out and as soon as we get weapons… 'Til then, housecalls all round, convince them that they need to get gone as soon as possible. Make sure they know we'll help them get out."

"Then?" Doyle asked.

Buffy had started to mount the stairs and at this question, she turned to look at them.

"We fight," she stated, and carried on up the stairs.

"Er…" Andrew ventured. "I'm new, so I don't get it. Why didn't you do this before?"

"We weren't strong enough before. And we couldn't risk civilians getting caught up in a war," Tara told him softly.

"What's changed?" Andrew asked.

Mouths opened to answer, snapped shut and turned to the one person who might actually have a clue.

"Wes, mate," Spike started, voice low, verging on nervous. "What happened out there?"

"She's not dead," Wes told them.

"Who?" Anya asked, though everyone else was making the connection.

Wes fixed her with a vaguely terrified blue gaze. He gulped hard before answering.

"Faith."

Willow could still feel his touch on her arms like an oil slick. He had caught her as her knees buckled in shock and pulled her close as Doyle offered her a sip of his brandy. The others watched, struggling with their own shock so they didn't notice she and Spike clung together a little too long. That had been the night before, as Wes announced Faith was back and she could still feel him.

She could feel his gaze heavy on her as he closed the door of the room on the two witches.

The soft caution of Tara's hand taking hers pulled her back into the moment.

"Message to the military," Tara smiled. "We could access the computers, I guess. Do you think we could?"

"I think some kind of hypnosis on the general in charge would be best," Willow mused. "They see weaponry to be delivered to Sunnydale, they'll get suspicious, might even interfere. A brief hypnosis so they think it's something they do all the time, would you be all right with that?"

Tara shifted uncomfortably.

"We'd remove it as soon as we got the weapons?"

"Oh, yeah. Of course."

"Then I think that's ok. It's for the greater good, right?"

"Absolutely."

Tara smiled that hesitant smile and Willow tightened her hold around her hand. Their eyes drifted close and they breathed deeply and allowed their minds to become one, forcing away all other thoughts.

Except, Willow was having a bit of trouble with that part and as their minds became one power, she felt everything flowing into Tara and she was powerless to stop it.

Cool lips assaulted her. A musky scent of leather, smoke, cheap whisky and something wild swirled about her. Night, hard and heavy as the arm about her waist. Breeze, soft as the fingers combing through her hair. Tongue, insistent, but cautious.

Rasping, echoing screams of a distant name and love. Flashes of a man with green eyes and dark hair, a gentle smile. Chipped nail polish and fingertips red from plucking guitar strings with his fingers when his final plectrum was lost. A guy that was soft and warm, on her level, not towering over her, all sharp edges and searching blue eyes.

Guilt.

Shivers down her spine.

Desperate need to be close to someone.

Anyone.

Even Spike.

Tara's eyes flew open as she gasped, pulling away from Willow and struggling to her feet. She stared down at her friend who sat horrified on the floor.

"Tara…" she started.

"Spike?" Tara asked in complete disbelief.

And Willow had liked it. Liked him. Not her. She liked Spike like that. Oh Goddess.

She turned and fled from the room, leaving Willow curled on the ground, feeling inexplicably guilty.