"You look good," Tara tells Willow as she keeps her arms behind her back, shifts nervously and alternates between glancing at Willow and staring bashfully at the floor. "And happy. I guess, I guess she, umm, she makes you happy."
"You're not real. This isn't happening," Willow says with a mix of hyperventilating shock and clench-jawed outrage.
"I'm not? You think this is just a dream? Too bad I can't pinch you, prove you wrong," Tara responds with a tiny smile. "I know I'd like that. Maybe you would, too." She takes a few steps forward and walks through Willow, who is clearly shaken by the experience. "Did you feel that? Now, look me in the eye and tell me that wasn't real. Or, maybe, just look me in the eye. You haven't. Not yet."
"You're not Tara. You're not her. You're just, you're just a - "
"A substitute? Sorry. I'm me. What's left of me, anyway. Y-y-you can sense it, can't you?"
"How dare they. Using you. Making you, making you evil."
"Me? Evil? Who would believe that? But please, please, don't turn your back on me. I couldn't take it." Willow lies back in bed and pulls the blanket over her head. "Okay. Ignore me. Pretend I don't exist. I guess that's, I guess that's worked so far. For you." Eventually, Willow can't resist. She pulls the covers off her head and looked at Tara. "That's better. Thanks. It's been so long. Ever since . . . " Tara looks at the spot where she was shot. "You don't have to say anything. I understand. All this pressure. And fear. Used to be Buffy killed the big, scary monster and that was the end. It wasn't replaced by a bigger, scarier monster. I'm sure it's, it's tough to go through that alone. Though I didn't think you'd go for someone that butch. Guess she, gives you, something different than I did."
"Get out."
"And go where? Who else could I be with? Let's face it, Nina's not exactly my type. Though Nina, she can touch us. That's one of her special powers. Privileges. But she likes, uhh, someone else. Someone who's, well, played a big role in Buffy's life. And Dawn's. Who'd have thought it ran in the family? Both families. I guess no one saw that coming. I even wanted to. What I mean is, I'm still yours. Even if you're not mine anymore. But, I guess I can't compete with someone who's got a, uhh, a body. Especially one that knows how to throw a punch. She seems very, umm, physical. I just hope you two never got carried away, rolling around on the floor, on the, on the spot where I, well, fell. As painful as it is to think of you with another, it's even worse to think of that. Maybe I'm selfish, but I always hoped this would be, well, hallowed ground. At least for you."
"You're not fooling me."
"I get it. You'd rather feel her than see me. It's okay. I know you forgot about me the moment my heart stopped beating."
"How dare you. How dare you pretend to know anything about how I feel," Willow yells out as she stands up.
"I can't know what you felt. But I know what you did. I saw everything. And it hurt me. It broke my heart to know that I had turned you into a killer. That if you never met me, you never would have, you never could have, become what you became. Did you think that would make me proud? Did you think about me even once?"
"You were all I thought about." Tara's pushed enough buttons to lure Willow into the conversation.
"No. You were all you thought about. Your grief. Your rage. If you had thought of me for one moment, if you had considered what I would have wanted for even an instant, you would have stopped. I'm the woman who made you kill. The woman who made you attack your friends. The woman who made you want to destroy the world. That's my legacy. Not because of anything I did, but because of everything you did. That's all I am now. That, and the woman who made you able to, umm, make that new girl happy. When you die, you live on in the souls of the people who loved you, and in what you inspire them to do. Guess that doesn't say a whole lot in my case. Oh well. I'll still always love you. I can't help it. I know you feel the same way. You just have a funny way of showing it." Tara disappears. Willow goes blind again. Kennedy enters.
"Willow, what are you doing up?"
"Ugh, I was, umm, looking, or feeling, around, for something. Never mind. I was just, I guess I just didn't want to spend any more time alone in bed."
"You don't have to worry about that now." Kennedy locks the door and turns off the light. She leads Willow back to the bed and starts cuddling with her. Willow seems strangely nervous. When Kennedy tries to kiss her, Willow pushes Kennedy away. "What's wrong? What happened while I was gone? Was it Nina? Did she come in here? Or the First?"
"It's okay. I was, I had a panic attack. The fear I'll always be like this."
"You know that's not going to happen."
"And I thought of Tara," Willow adds, trying to give the lie a hint of truth. "When Glory messed with her mind. This reminded me of that."
"You told me about that. She got better. You made her better. The same thing's going to happen now."
"I know. I hope. But thinking about Tara reminded me of everything. She died in this room. Right in front of me. Kennedy, sweetie, you've been great. I don't know what I'd do without you. Especially now. But I'm just not, you know, in the mood right now. After all that."
"I understand. It's okay, Willow. I'm here for you, however you need me."
"Thanks. But right now I'd just like to rest."
Downstairs, Giles and Anya argue with Dawn about her (actually, Kit's father's) theory.
"That spell can only be used against witches who are evil or are using black magic," Giles argues against Dawn's suggestion.
"That's not true," Dawn replies. "It has nothing to do with being evil. It's about estrangement."
"Where did you read this?," Anya asks.
"I lied. After school, Kit and I went to this Magic Shop in Santa Barbara."
"You mean Merlin's'," Anya asks.
"Yeah."
"That's a good store. Very profitable. Makes a killing off the new age-y college students. But they do have nice selection of books in back. Arlen's someone who really knows her stuff."
"You two have met?," Giles asks.
"Yes. She mentioned how you came by three times before you worked up the nerve to talk to her. She was flattered by the attention."
"What attention? I was only paying attention to her prices and selection. I wanted to get a sense of the business."
"You liked Arlen?," Dawn asks with a smile. "She's pretty attractive. Though in a kind of Elvira way, and I didn't think that was what you went for."
"Well, it's not, thank you very much. No offense to Miss Estrin. What did she think of your hypothesis?"
"I, umm, I didn't ask her," Dawn stammers, worrying that her lie was becoming too elaborate. "I figured she'd ask too many questions."
"Then why did you tell Kit?," Giles asks.
"I needed a ride. And she's cool with this kinda stuff. Especially after everything that's happened around here. Plus, since Buffy saved her that one time, she felt like helping out with research was the least she could do to pay Buffy back."
"It's a rare spell," Anya explains. "If you're good, you don't use it because you don't want to hurt someone. But if you're bad, you want to use something a little more powerful. Something that would cause even more pain. I wouldn't rule it out. Let's face it, Rupert. It's better than anything we've come up with." Dawn smiles. She's never liked Anya, and Anya's never liked her, so she's pleasantly surprised by this show of support.
"That wouldn't be saying much," Giles drolly replies. "Before we come to any conclusions, I'd like to discuss the whole matter with Willow. See how she feels about our various suggestions. Right now, I think we all could use some rest." Dawn goes upstairs to her bedroom. Giles goes into the kitchen for some tea. Anya walks into the living room, where the Potentials are having a discussion.
RONA: Why was Buffy so mad?
AMANDA: I think it had something to do with Connor.
MADARI: And Dawn. She was the one Buffy kept yelling at.
FADILA: It has to be tough when your sister's first serious boyfriend is the son of your first serious boyfriend.
ARIELLA: Tough? It's nearly impossible. The generation gap alone.
RONA: I'm still surprised Connor went for her.
AMANDA: I know. She doesn't seem like his type. He has all those super powers, and she's so normal.
FADILA: Maybe that's why.
MADARI: Opposites attract?
AMANDA: Think about it. Connor's strange. He never went to school. His idea of a date isn't eating dinner and watching a movie. It's staking a vampire and killing a demon. Dawn's from a whole other world. The normalcy dimension.
RONA: You're right. That has to be the reason.
Anya has recently entered the room. Andrew sits near the Potentials, listening but not talking.
"Didn't you people get a briefing book?," Anya asks. "Andrew, I thought you were preparing one."
"I did. I put in everything I knew. Plus, some lovely color graphics I had put together at the print shop."
"So you don't know either."
"Know what?"
"Dawn's story."
"I know she was a key or something. What does that mean?"
"Okay kiddies. It's time I tell you all a little story."
Down in the basement, Faith sits on her cot and smokes a cigarette.
"A disgusting habit," Richard Wilkins tells her. "Bad breath. Yellow teeth. All that ash getting into peoples carpets. Not to mention that it can kill you." Faith looks up and sees him standing there. She backs up against the wall, momentarily spooked.
"Relax. I can't bite. Even if I could, you know I would never bite you." Faith stands up and throws a right hook that goes through his face.
"So that's what you are. Spike told me about this."
"I never liked him. Never trust a man who dies his hair. And he was far too selfish. Never one to follow orders. Not to mention the fact that he's deceitful, and will turn on the people who believe in him for the pettiest reasons. Of course, Buffy doesn't understand that. There's a lot about vampires that Buffy never wants to understand."
"You mean in general, or just the ones she's boinked?," Faith jokes.
"Now, now, young lady. Watch your language. There are children in this house."
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't exactly call them innocent."
"How could they be, after months of living in Buffy's den of iniquity? If I had known what an immoral and licentious young woman she really was, maybe I would have handled her differently. Here I was, thinking Angel was the most corruptible. Gosh, was I ever off target. Don't worry. You would have always been first in in my heart. And I have to say I'm proud of my little lady. You've become the responsible Slayer. The one who isn't ashamed of the man she loves. And I love him, too! Lindsey's a wonderful fella. I only wish I had him on my team. Think of what I could have done with him as my Deputy Mayor. And think of the edifying impact he would have had on you. A guy like that only comes along once in a lifetime. Once in my lifetime!," Wilkins says before laughing. "Handsome. Hard-working. Intelligent. Multi-talented. Not to mention evil."
"Lindsey is not evil."
"Who are you trying to convince? We both know he was on our side. And what changed? Did he get a soul? Nope. Already had one. He simply got tired of losing. Like you did. There was no Road to Damascus moment in his life. He simply found an easier way to be successful. Once again, like you."
"Go to hell. Sorry. You already have."
"Now that wasn't very polite. After all I did for you."
"You mean turning me into a killer?"
"I'm afraid you're inverting the order of events."
"I never did it on purpose before we hooked up. You taught me to like it."
"I led you to water. You chose to drink. Don't blame me for your choices. You can't teach someone to feel that yummy, visceral thrill of the kill."
"Maybe. But you still used me. And you never loved me."
"Balderdash. Pardon my language, but you know that's a bald-faced lie. I loved you even more than my own daughter."
"So what? You probably ate her."
"No. I sacrificed Lillian. But I was talking about Martha. Who lived a long, full life and gave me three wonderful grandchildren. I've lost track of them over the years. Which is a real shame."
"What was I gonna do, even if you won? You'd eat your fill and take off, leaving me with what kind of life? Did you ever consider that? Or was I only a weapon? Someone who could take out your enemies, pave the way for your big day. You didn't give a damn about the day after, and you know it."
"I did what I could. I helped you when no one else would."
"You're wrong. Angel would."
"Only as a professional. You're a project to him. We both know which Slayer he really cares about."
"So what? Neither of us gets to sleep with him. But I'm the one who doesn't feel frustrated."
"Because of Lindsey. Great guy. I would have been proud to give my blessing to him, and cry at the wedding. You don't belong here. You belong with him."
"The First wants to kill me, too. Not just Buffy."
"And that makes you important. But not to any of these people. Buffy's the one who matters to them. You're an mercenary, sleeping in her basement. Buffy perishes, and these people will be inconsolable. But will anyone in this house even shed a tear if you die? You matter to me. And you matter to Lindsey. But you don't matter to Buffy and her minions. I'm sorry, Faith. I wish they could see your greatness. But Buffy has blinded them to it."
"Buffy and you got one thing in common. You both need sycophants."
"That's a big word. You study to get your equivalency degree in prison?"
"I don't need Scoobies. I don't need suck-ups. And if you don't know that, then I guess you don't know me as well as you think."
"You're fighter. A survivor. You don't want to die. If sacrificing you helps her cause, you think Buffy would wait one second before throwing you to the wolves? You deserve better, Faith." Wilkins disappears. Faith remains rattled. Upstairs, Andrew and the Potentials react to Anya's story.
"Why didn't anyone tell me this!?," Andrew exclaims. "I thought she was normal. I had no idea she was interesting. There are so many questions I could have asked her when I was making my film. Why didn't anyone tell me she was so interesting?"
Meanwhile, Spike sits on the porch, smoking and enjoying some peace and quiet. He sees a man walk towards the house. The man wears a red British army uniform with an elliptical Victorian-era white cap, several medals, and a black belt and sash. A silver scabbard containing a long, thin, curved saber hangs from the belt. The man has a thick, blonde mustache. "When was the last time you saw the light of day, mate?," Spike asks. He chuckles and tosses his lit cigarette at the man. It goes through his body. "Like I thought. One of their ghosties from memories past. Whose memories?"
"Yours."
"Sorry. Don't remember you."
"Fair enough. We never did meet. But I thought you could recognize your own father."
Spike stands up. "Bollocks."
The man removes his cap to show his wavy blonde hair. Spike walks down from the porch onto the walkway and looks into his blue eyes. "An inch taller. A few pounds heavier. But surely you can see the resemblance, son." He did look a lot like the man in the faded black-and-white photo Spike remembered seeing a very long time ago.
"Why would they send you? Like you ever did a bloody thing for me."
"I made you what you are, William. I made you a warrior. Like me. I know it was tough growing up without a father. William the Bastard.' You didn't have the nerve to discover your own strength. Quite ironic, how you had to die before you could become a man."
"So this is how it works? You wait till I make a name for myself, then you waltz in here to claim credit? You didn't have a bloody thing to do with any of it."
"You believe that because you don't know me."
"And whose fault is that?"
"Fair enough. But I've watched you, William. I took pride in your great achievements. I knew it wouldn't take you long to surpass that dirty Irish pig. I was disappointed that you never became a true leader of men. Not like your father. You always had to fight your battles alone. Or, as the case may be now, as a servant to others."
"And you never had to follow orders?"
"Technically, yes I did. But the colonel was happy no matter how I got the job done. So long as I won, he didn't care how I led my squadron. And I always won."
"The bleeding army won. You were just a tiny bloody part of it."
"You know better than that, son. You saw all my medals. The ones your mother polished every day. Tell me what she told you about me."
"The usual. That you were handsome and brave and died a hero. The sorts of things a mum will always tell her boy."
"Didn't she say that I struck fear in the hearts of the Cossacks?"
"Maybe. Dunno. Don't care. You're not real. And if you were, I'd treat you even worse."
"The Cossacks had a reputation for being the fiercest, most brutal cavalry in all of Europe. How brutal did I have to be to scare the likes of them? Did you ever consider that?"
"Is this going somewhere? Cuz I'm getting bored."
"You're not the first William the Bloody in our family." He pulls out his saber. It's red, coated in blood all the way down to the hilt. "I became a different man in the Crimea. A man your mother would not have recognized. Killing men brought me honor and glory. Perhaps a few surrendered before I put them to the sword, but in the heat of battle few notice such trifles. And then there was my shameful death. It must have pained your mother to learn the shameful details."
"What bloody details? She just said you died in battle."
"It was good of them to tell her that. I perished in a duel, son. Two days after the armistice. I certainly didn't expect to lose. After all, I had won three previous duels. But the war was over. I was heading home to a wife who loved me and a son I had never seen. And still I squandered it all on some petty squabble over . . . I can't even remember what it was over. Why would a man do such a thing? I think you understand why.
"Because you were a wanker and a fool."
"Because I was a fighter. And a fighter can never back down. Even when he has little to gain and everything to lose. You know that impulse. For more than a century, you've lived by it."
"Lucky for me, one of us is no longer so bloody pigheaded."
"Because of Buffy. That silly, simpering Yank who doesn't even love you. Who puts you second to that Neanderthal with the sloping forehead. How can you love someone who views you as nothing more than a tool? This is why I fought, William. Because there are things worse than losing. And your predicament is one of them. She owns you. She controls you. You are no longer a man. You are her slave. And a slave can only become free after he has killed his master. You know that, William. You know that you cannot be at peace until you have tasted her blood."
"Thanks for the pep talk, pops. Now sod off, old man."
He sticks his sword back in its scabbard and puts his cap back on. "Very well. I needn't convince you of something you already know to be a fact."
"You don't know the first bloody thing about me."
"No son. Just the last. And that is all that matters now." He turns, walks away and vanishes into the darkness.
After the scare from the Mayor, Faith took out the cell phone Lindsey gave her and dialed him up. "So how's my favorite lawyer?"
"The trial's going good. The jury seems receptive. We definitely have a chance."
"A chance? With you charming them everyday, I think ya got a helluva lot more than a chance. How many women on the jury?"
"Five. But it doesn't work that way, Faith. This is a murder trial."
"You're saying it doesn't help if they like you better than the other lawyer?"
"I guess it could. But only a little."
"So it could make the difference?"
"I hope it doesn't have to."
"Don't get me wrong. I do too. Anyway, not to sound like I don't care about your work, cause I do, but are you coming over this weekend?"
"Court gets out tomorrow at one. Ten in the morning your time. I should be able to take off a couple hours after that. Everything goes according to plan, I'll be spending tomorrow night with you."
"All right. What about Sunday?"
"I have to get back to work."
"Right. Lives at stake. Same story over here."
"That doesn't mean I don't wish I could stay longer."
"I get it. We both got jobs. Responsibilities. Omigod. Did I just say that? Damn, I'm gettin' old."
"No. You're just finally realizing how important you are."
In the early hours of Saturday morning, the demons run wild. Everywhere there is panic. Clem gets trampled by a hordes of larger demons. "Ow, ow!! Watch the claws." He gets up and tries to run away, only to collide with demons heading in the other direction. He dusts himself off and rushes for his crypt. Several demons are inside, looting it. "Whatever happened to brotherhood? You're acting like vampires. Show some class!" The demons laugh. "Okay. I was planning to ditch that couch anyway. And the fridge. Trust me, you won't be able to carry that very far. Hey!! Put down that television. Now, mister! Are you listening to me?" The demon has both hands under the set, so Clem is able to scratch his eyes. He pulls the television away. The demon grabs his face and hisses. He reaches for the set. Clem growls and bites his hand. He's never done that before. The demon leaves without his loot. Clem proceeds to pack what's left into his car. "I can't believe I did that. Like a mother protecting her young."
Before leaving town, Clem runs into someone's backyard. His t-shirt is torn and ripped open. "Stella!!!," he bellows. "STELLA!!!" Estella Santos gets out of bed. She rubs her eyes and looks at the clock. 3:47 a.m. "Stella!!!" She pulls up her shades and looks outside. "STELLA!!!" There's a wrinkly, bare-chested demon screaming her name.
"Tennessee Williams meets the Hellmouth," she jokes as she opens the window and peers outside.
"Stella?," Clem quietly and politely asks, returning to his usual meek self.
"Who wants to know?"
"It is I, Clement, in fulfillment of the ancient prophecy," he proudly declares, once again stepping out of character. Estella's eyes bug out.
"If this is a joke - "
"I'm not a joker, Stella. Okay, maybe I am. But not about this. Never about this. The day has come."
Stella pauses for about five seconds and takes a few deep breaths. Then she leans out of the window. "Thank you, Clement. I'll take it from here."
"You're a powerful woman, Stella. When this is over, can you get me DirecTV with TiVo? I don't think it's too much to ask." Estella shuts her window, closes her shades and turns on the light. "STELLA!!!," Clem yells out one more time. When he gets no reaction, he walks back to his car and zooms eastward, leaving Sunnydale behind forever. Stella paces back and forth.
"Okay . . . Okay. I can handle this. It's just my birthright. The task I've been preparing for my entire adult life. Just stay calm, get to work, and everything will be all right." She runs into the bathroom and throws up.
After showering, brushing her teeth and getting dressed, Estella Santos heads out. At 4:30, Buffy's doorbell starts ringing in rapid-fire, rat-tat-tat succession. Giles, who is sleeping on the floor in the living room near the Potentials, gets up and staggers into the foyer. "Coming. Keep your knickers on. Who the bloody hell could that be?" He turns on the porch light and looks through the peep-hole. "Stella?" Giles opens the door. She bursts in like she owns the place and starts turning on all the lights, rousing five Potentials as well as the very groggy Xander, Andrew and Anya.
"You have thirty minutes to get everyone up and out of here. Pack only what you need."
"I'm sorry. What do you think you're doing?"
"A huge favor. In a few hours, you won't be safe here. No go wake everyone else up. Until you do that, I don't have time to explain why."