Buffy hurriedly shoved the two nerds into the back seat of the patrol car Tara had pulled up to the kerb with through the open door, closing it behind them. She rapped on the roof of the car. "Go! Go!" she yelled to Tara, who sat in the driving seat. She waited for the car to gather speed, running alongside it until she managed to pull open the passenger door and jump in herself. "Is she coming?" she asked Tara, who was accelerating and watching for any sign of the disgruntled witch through the rear view mirror.
"I don't see anything," Tara said, narrowing her eyes as she strained to see behind the moving car.
Buffy turned back in her seat, looking at two people who were seriously scared. "You guys all right?" she asked them. When she received to response from them, she rephrased the question. "Are you injured?"
"No," Jonathon told her, partially distracted by his near-death experience and stammering slightly. "I-I don't think so."
"Where are you taking us?" Andrew asked.
Buffy turned back in her seat. "We'll find someplace safe and we'll keep you there until we can stop Willow."
"'Run and hide'?" Andrew scoffed. "That's your brilliant plan?"
"I don't believe this..." Jonathon grumbled.
"Boys?" Buffy said, "If you don't knock it off, I will get Tara to pull this car over and you can just walk to your painful deaths from here."
"I don't get it," Jonathon said, wondering aloud. "Willow's a witch. Why doesn't she just, you know, wave her arms and make us dead?"
"Because she doesn't want you dead," Buffy told them. "She wants to kill you."
"But we didn't do anything!" Andrew whined.
Buffy turned around and punched the boy square in the nose, eliciting an 'ow' from him as he held his painful nose.
"I hate to admit it," Tara began, glancing at Buffy between watching the road and the mirrors, "but Jonathan may have a point. Why isn't she right here, right now? I mean, I never would have imagined she'd have this kind of power, and she definitely knows how to use it."
"Maybe," Buffy said with a shrug. "Maybe she's just getting her mojo up and running, or maybe she hasn't figured out how much power she really has yet." She paused, looking at the road ahead. "And neither have we. You said it yourself, this is beyond what even you knew."
"I guess we keep running, then."
"I still can't believe that was Willow," Jonathon said, almost to himself. "I mean, I've known her longer than either of you guys. Willow was...you know. She packed her own lunches and wore floods. And her and Xander were inseparable. They've been best friends since forever..." he looked at Buffy sadly, looking genuine for the first time since he had cast the Superstar spell in college. "I guess it's no wonder she's coming after us, huh?" he asked softly. "But it's just...she was always...just Willow."
The truth of the moment hit both Buffy and Tara and silence reigned in the car as they each thought about his words, the only sound the dull humming of the tyres on the tarmac highway roads. Then, surprising them all, a loud boom came from behind them, rocking the car violently and Tara struggled to keep control of the steering wheel.
"Geez it!" Jonathon yelled.
"What was that?" Andrew asked.
Tara looked out of the rear view mirror and shrugged. "Just Willow."
Buffy span around in her seat again to look out of the back windscreen, seeing only the grill of an eighteen-wheeler truck filling the glass, so close they were almost touching. She grabbed the rear view mirror and readjusted it so she could get a better look, looking from the grill up to the driver's cab where the man looked terrified and obviously not in control of the vehicle, struggling with the steering wheel in vain. Her gaze travelled upwards, resting on the figure stood on top of the cab, Willow's arms wide, her hair blowing in the wind, looking like the maidenhead on the ship from hell.
The truck hit the car again, the rocking beginning again.
"Any ideas?" Tara asked Buffy, obviously terrified.
"Drive faster," the Slayer told her.
Another hit from the truck rocked them all again as the squad car raced as fast as Tara could get it to go, pressing the accelerator to the floor in the attempt to get more speed from the vehicle, but finding that every time they gained a bit of distance from the truck, it caught up again. The grill hit the back fender again, the bumpers staying pressed together, the truck now pushing the car along the highway at high-speed as the eighteen-wheeler bore down on the much smaller car, the crunching sound of metal growing to a screeching that drowned out Jonathon and Andrew's screams of terror.
Buffy looked at Tara. "Well, this is faster..." she offered.
"She knows you're in this car too, right?" Jonathon asked them. Seeing them glancing at each other with a certain look, he panicked even more. "Right?"
Atop the eighteen-wheeler, a sweaty-looking Willow continued to exert control over the driver, but found herself shaking. The power waning, the two vehicles separated as the larger one slowed slightly, the squad car taking the advantage to gain a bit of distance.
Tara took the rear view mirror and positioned it so she could watch what was happening. "She's draining..." she said to Buffy, concerned.
"She's what-ing?" Buffy asked.
"We just have to keep going," Tara told her.
On top of the truck, Willow continued to shake, feverish and clammy as she fell forward, supporting herself on all fours as the driver grabbed back the steering wheel, pulling on it hard to the left. The truck made a radical turn, jack-knifing into a 90-degree angle upon itself.
Andrew, completely enthralled at the spectacle as he gazed out of the back window couldn't help himself. "Cool..."
The driver managed to correct the driving with the steering wheel as the squad car raced on ahead of him, its bumper scraping noisily along the highway, leaving nothing but sparks in its wake. Unbeknown to him, a girl shook on all fours on top of the truck, out of breath and out of magic, only managing to cling on to the cab by her fingertips, holding on without any mystical aid.
Willow turned her head and watched ruefully as the car and her prey drove away.
A key rattled frantically in the door of the Magic Box, eventually opening to reveal Anya, still unhappy at her treatment from Willow, followed by Tara and Buffy, then Andrew and Jonathon.
"Thanks, Anya," Tara told her sincerely, "For getting here so fast. It's a big help."
"No problem," Anya mumbled, not entirely meaning the sentiment.
Tara looked around the shop, her eyes scanning the place. "You know," she said, "I can usually sense power, especially Willow's," she told them. "But I'm getting nothing. Anya?" she asked. "What about you? Can you sense her?"
"Yeah," Buffy said, chipping in. "Knowing her location'd be a real big comfort right about now."
Anya stopped, waited for the demon in her to tell her, and then looked at them. "No. I can't," she told them. "And that means whatever she's feeling, it's gone way beyond simple vengeance."
"Did I mention the me needing comfort?" Buffy considered Anya's words carefully. "I guess whatever we've got here, we'd better grab it fast. This is going to be one of the first places she's gonna think to look for us."
"Then what are we doing here?" Andrew asked. As they all turned around to look at him, all annoyed, he shrunk under their glare. "You know, I could summon a demon to kill her," he suggested.
"And I could pull your heart out through your foot with a variety of different garden implements," Anya told him, snapping. "Believe me, I've done it before."
"No one is getting killed," Buffy said, trying to diffuse the situation, turning to Andrew. "Sit down," she told him. She looked at Anya. "We've got to find some kind of Magicks that'll stop Willow, or at least slow her down."
"But she drained the place," Tara pointed out, holding up a blank-faced textbook. "She took everything."
"Not everything," Anya said, an idea popping into her head as she rushed behind the counter, rummaging through drawers. She pulled out a small key, followed by a box that had been concealed in the counter, using the key to open it, and pulling out a thick book from it.
"What is it?" Tara asked.
"Book of protection spells," Anya told them. "Anti- Magic. Our last resort."
"Think we can work this stuff?"
Anya opened the book, scanning the pages. "Ah. Okay," she told them. "The good news is the text is intact. Bad news is I can't read a word of it. It's like in, ancient Sumerian or something."
Tara approached the counter, pulling the book around so she could look at it, while Jonathon tentatively approached them.
"Can I take a look at it?" he asked.
"Shut up," Buffy told him.
"Right," he said turning away. After a second he turned back to her. "I just thought, you know, as long as you're protecting us, the least I could do is..."
"I'm not protecting you, Jonathan," Buffy told him bluntly with menace in her eyes. "None of us are. We're doing this for Willow. And the only reason it happens to be your lucky day is because if Willow kills you, a line gets crossed, I lose another friend. And I hate losing."
"I get that. It's just... you know she's running out of power, right? I could tell, I could practically feel it," he looked away, embarrassed. "I've dabbled in the Magicks."
"Yeah, well, thanks for the offer," Buffy told them, walking away. "But if we need any help with this, we're gonna take Tara, who has experience at using witchcraft for something good, over Dabble Boy, who used it to summon demons that tried to kill me. Besides, I think Willow's in a league of her own here."
Jonathon looked away, embarrassed. "But still, running that hot for that long..." he shrugged. "Just a matter of time before you gotta re-charge. No matter how juiced up you are."
"Thank you. Now remember that thing we talked about?"
"About me shutting up?"
Buffy nodded, Jonathon doing the same as he pointed awkwardly to the table and sat beside Andrew, Tara taking Buffy aside while Anya worked on the text.
"Buffy, say this works," Tara said, concern marring her features. "Say we actually stop Willow from working all of this power. What then?"
"I talk to her," Buffy said simply.
"And say what?" Tara asked. "Not too long ago you were blaming yourself for all of this. How are you going to manage to convince her that everything's going to be okay when you can't even convince yourself?"
"Fine," Buffy told her. "You talk to her. She loves you. She'll listen to you."
"You think she's capable of hearing anything any of us actually say right now? She's hurting too much, Buffy. We all are."
Buffy just looked at Tara, realising that she didn't have all the answers, and what was worse was the fact that she knew it too. "Whatever she's going to do, she starts with these two," she said, looking back at the two of them. "They're the line she cannot cross. And if she's running low on the Magicks ...she's probably somewhere now trying to get it all back."
Things were slow-going at the shop as Anya turned page after page from the book she was hoping to use for a protection spell, while Tara stood over her shoulder, a small translation book in her hand as she glanced from page to page. They had been like this for the past hour or so, ever since Buffy had taken off to where she was hoping Willow would be.
Anya sighed huffily, not looking up at Tara. "You're too close," she told her.
"How am I supposed to read?" Tara asked innocently.
"I don't know," Anya snapped. "I'm staring right at this stuff and I can't read it."
Tara nodded slightly, taking a step back from her. "How's the translation coming? What have we got so far?"
"So far we've got 'the'..." she said, turning her page around. "Well, either 'the' or 'towards', I'm not really sure," she flung the pen down on the counter. "I can't do this. I'm in retail. Stupid ancient Sumerians..."
"It's not Sumerian," Jonathon told them calmly, walking over to the counter and standing before them, looking contrite. "I'm pretty sure it's Babylonian. The text is similar, but the dialect is completely different."
Tara put down the translation text. "Great. Babylonian," she said. "Because that's so much easier."
They put their heads back down, clearly wanting to get back on with their spell, and Jonathon walked back to his seat dejectedly, sitting next to Andrew.
Andrew shuffled closer to Jonathon, pissed. "Why are you helping them?"
"Because they're saving our lives, you moron." Jonathon told him.
"Uh-huh. And what then? Even if they kill that Wicca bitch, you think they're just let us walk? They own us."
"So what do you want me to do?"
"Look around. You know Magick. We're in a Magic Shop. We can take them." Andrew shot a look at Anya and Tara discreetly, Jonathon following the direction of his eyes. "The books are sucked, dry, but so what? There's still like tons of supplies all around us. This is the best chance we're gonna get to make it out of here."
"And do what?"
"Start over. We can be the Duo. You and me, you can even be the leader, I swear, I'll take orders. I like taking orders. Just tell me what to do."
"You want an order?" Jonathon grabbed Andrew and shoved him, hard, into the bookshelf, causing the wooden unit to shudder. "Grow up."
"Hey!" Tara called from behind the counter. "Come on, guys. We're trying to work here and you just broke our concentration."
"Which means no protection spell..." Anya said in a singsong voice. "And Willow will make you two boneless chickens skinless, too."
"Then what?" Andrew spat at them. "You think your Li'l Witch buddy's gonna stop with us? You saw her! She's a truck-driving Magic Mamma. We've got maybe seconds before Darth Rosenberg grinds everybody into Jawa burgers, and not one of you bunch has the midiclorians to stop her."
Anya looked at Tara. "Did you understand anything the annoying virgin just said?"
Tara shook her head as Andrew retreated back to the table.
"But I suppose he does kind of have a point," Anya said. "What if Willow filets their sole and then comes after—"
"She won't," Tara said quickly.
"You don't know that."
"We're her friends, Anya. Her family. She would never hurt us."
"Yeah," Anya said, "Because that mojo she used on me back at the jail was done in a friendly and loving way. She's lost all reason, Tara, even when it comes to you. She knew you were in that squad vehicle when she decided to play toy cars with it, and she didn't even batter an eyelid."
"I know," Tara said resolutely. "And I have to stop her."
"Don't you mean 'we' have to stop her?" Anya asked. "You can't do this alone."
"But this is all my fault," Tara said, tears in her eyes.
"How?" Anya asked. "How can it possibly have been your fault?"
"Because...I let her get this far into the Magicks," Tara said. "I encouraged her. Ever since we first met, I encouraged her to cast more and more spells, to reach a higher level. I just didn't know it would affect her like this," she said honestly. "And then she got addicted and I couldn't be with her, but she was doing okay with it. But then, earlier..."
"Earlier what?" Anya asked suspiciously.
"She called Osiris, and I didn't stop her."
"Osiris?" Anya asked. "You mean the wicked-ass god who brought Buffy back?"
Tara nodded. "I didn't stop her," she said sadly. "I was going to, but...we had to see if there was a chance..." she looked down. "If I had stopped her from doing that, maybe she wouldn't be so furious now."
"Well, that would have been a plus," Anya told her. "But it's not your fault, Tara. I think she would've chosen this path, no matter what you did or didn't do."
"You think?"
"Have you ever known me to lie?" Anya asked. When Tara shook her head, Anya turned and faced her fully. "I know that you love her and you want to believe that everything's going to work out for the better here...but I can't see that happening. Nothing is ever going to be the same again. Not now."
Tara knew she was right, but it was a bitter realisation that was hard to swallow. When the other woman looked away, it was obvious she wasn't really thinking about Willow. She was thinking about Xander, and it hit her that during this whole situation, Anya had been holding it together.
Tara reached out a hand to touch the girl's shoulder where she was hunched over the book again, trying to piece together something from the text, only to snatch it back uncomfortably, watching her and wanting to comfort her, but it felt awkward, tense, and for a second she thought about leaving things.
But, then her conscience kicked it. This was Anya. They'd known each other for two years now, maybe even counted one another as friends, depending on the day of the week and how much money Tara spent in the shop, and it wasn't in Tara's nature to allow someone to feel this bad and not to help them if she could.
She took a deep breath, placing the translation book down on the counter softly, and again reached out her hand. This time it connected with Anya's shoulder, and the Vengeance Demon quickly snapped around to look at her.
"For God's sake," Anya said, "Are you trying to hit on me or something?"
"What?" Tara asked, taken aback and moving away from her a few paces while a furious blush crept up her face. "No, I-I-I-...o-o-of course not. I would never...and it was just..." She quietened when she really looked at Anya. She saw unshed tears glistening in her eyes, a forlorn expression and, despite her bravado, she saw someone who looked lost. "I just... I was wondering if you were okay?"
"Okay?" Anya asked, her eyes widening in something like anger. "You're asking me if I'm okay?" she yelled. "Of course I'm not okay!" she spat. "I may be a demon again but I still have feelings, you know - well, actually, I'm not supposed to, according to Halfrek and D'Hoffryn, unless it's 'vengeance, yay!' - and I know I'm not supposed to care because of what he did to me and I thought that I hated him.
"And I want to hate him, Tara, but instead I have all of these horrible, empty feelings inside of me, as if someone cracked me open like an egg and spooned out my insides and all I want to do is go back to the apartment we lived in and crawl into a ball and cry because he's gone, but I can't. I'm stuck here with a hippy Wicca and two freaks who I couldn't care less about."
Tara listened to the tirade and watched as tears began to fall from Anya's eyes. She stepped forward again, putting her arms cautiously around her and letting her cry. She looked at the nerds, found them watching, and glared at them, looking away when they finally broke eye contact and Anya lifted her head, wiping her eyes.
"Do you know something?" Anya asked. "You're the only person through this whole thing who has actually asked me if I'm okay. Me. Like no one else expects me to feel anything."
"That's not true," Tara told her.
"It isn't?" she asked. "Then why do I feel like the jilted ex-lover who hasn't got a right to anything? Why do I feel like I shouldn't be feeling like this? I mean, we were broken up. Doesn't that mean that I shouldn't care about him anymore?"
"It's normal for you to feel like this," Tara said softly. "I know that things between you and Xander weren't exactly resolved, but I know that you loved him. We all know that."
"But not enough, huh?" Anya asked sadly.
"What do you mean?"
"If I loved him so much...as much as I thought I did...why aren't I the one who's out there trying to kill the people to blame?" She threw a glance at Jonathon and Andrew, them avoiding looking at her at all costs. "I mean, I'm the demon here. I'm the one who's supposed to be evil or whatever. Why am I protecting the people Willow believes are responsible for contributing to his death?"
"Because you know it's the right thing to do," Tara said. "Because you know it's what Xander would have done." She looked at the two boys, both sitting there with their hands over their faces, like naughty children who thought that hiding their faces meant they had suddenly become invisible. "Willow's lost that reasoning in her grief. They may not be innocents in the strictest sense...but they didn't do this. They made a mistake and they're human."
"Yeah," Anya said, her face hardening in anger, "and look where mortality gets you. A speeding ticket to the morgue, that's where. It gets you a sling when you're attacked by vampires, or a cast when you're trying to fight a troll god, or a puncture wound when something tears its way out of a wall to stab you. How is mortality so great?" she demanded of Tara. "Please, tell me. What makes humans so very, very special that you can't smite them down when they do something bad like you can with a demon? Mortality is useless and it always will be."
Anya took a breath, intent on continuing. "And I knew something like this would happen!" she yelled. "I told him. Time and time again. This world he lived in, this fight he was in...it wasn't the good fight. It was the stupid fight. The useless fight. And no matter how much I begged him, how much sex I offered as a trade, he still wouldn't give it up. He was out there, night after night, with witches and vampires and slayers, and he had nothing. No powers, no talent except punning at the worst possible times, and stupidly trying to defend his so-called friends."
"Why is that stupid, Anya?" Tara asked. "Why is doing something brave and heroic stupid? He was a good person, Anya, and you know that nothing would have stopped him from fighting alongside Buffy. He wasn't talentless. He was a great person. Buffy knows that she wouldn't have come this far without him."
"But just look at how she treated everyone when she came back," Anya said bitterly. "She couldn't care less about anyone. About him."
"You know how hard things have been for her since she came back," Tara told her, shaking her head. "But she loved him, too, Anya. She's blaming herself for this. She feels responsible."
"She is responsible," Anya said flippantly. "And what about Willow?"
"What about Willow?"
"What she did to him," Anya complained. "She broke up his relationship with Cordelia, you know. And she wasn't exactly Best Friend of the Year, using him and ignoring him..."
"I know, but—"
"She's the whole reason I ended up in stupid Sunnydale!" Anya spat at her. "If her and her lips had stayed away from him, I wouldn't be feeling any of this... It's their fault I ended up being stuck here after that stupid wish Cordelia made. I should have left town when I had the chance."
"So..." Tara challenged, "You'd prefer to never have met him, to never have had him in your life?"
"I don't know," Anya said honestly. "Maybe."
"I don't believe that," Tara said. "You don't need me to tell you how great he was, because you already know. But he was kind, Anya, and he was loyal, and he was sweet, and gentle, and funny, and he would've protected you and Buffy and Willow through anything, because he loved you and his friends with all of his heart. Those were his talents."
"Then why did he leave me?" Anya asked in a small voice. "If he loved me so much...why did he walk away from me on our wedding day?"
"I can't pretend to know what was going on with him," Tara told her. "It's not like he ever explained to me. Why would he? But I know that he didn't want to hurt you. He told you that. He had doubts, and it was better that he didn't go through with it and hurt you more."
"But maybe if he had...he wouldn't be dead..."
"You can't keep going through all the 'maybe' and 'what if's," Tara told her. "I know it's hard, but you can't change anything."
"But there are so many things I wanted to tell him," Anya said. "Like, how I'm sorry that he had to see what happened with Spike. When I came back I wanted vengeance, and I tried so hard to curse him with all sorts of stuff, but it didn't work. But that night...it wasn't vengeance, Tara, not really...it was just, I don't know, solace. And I wanted to tell him that I loved him," she said sadly. "Because I did, however much he hurt me."
"I know," Tara told her, moving towards her and smoothing her back with her hand. "Look, I know you don't want to be here right now, so if you want to leave..."
"No," Anya said, pulling the book from the counter and looking at it again, shrugging Tara off. "I need to be here. If I go home, I'm just gonna fall apart...and I can't deal with that right now. I'll help you do this, stop Willow, because it's what Xander would have done. She meant a lot to him, despite how much I hated it, and however much I can see her point of view on this, losing her to this dark side or whatever...he wouldn't have wanted that. But when this is done..." she looked at Tara seriously. "I don't know if I'm still gonna be around."
Tara nodded in understanding. "I get that," she said. "It's just...we both know that things might get ugly with Willow and this crusade she's on. But if it gets really bad...
"It's a shame Xander isn't here," Anya said coldly. "He could have proposed again."
Tara put her head down awkwardly, searching for the right words. "...I need to know...are you gonna turn on us?" she asked. "Me and Buffy? Because, with you being a demon and her being the Slayer and with everything that happened when you had your powers before—"
"Don't worry," Anya said, cutting her off. "I have no plans to turn on either of you, but if it comes down to fight with me and Buffy...well, don't get me wrong, I like Buffy and all – sort of - but I just like me a whole lot better. She lets me get on with mine, I'll let her get on with hers."
"Okay..." Tara said uncomfortably as Anya went back to the book. "
It was the look on Willow's face that scared Dawn more than anything else. She wasn't the same person she knew anymore: there was no more red hair and shiny green eyes that lit up with the ever-present smile. Instead, it was jet-black hair and eyes and lips, dark purple and black veins running through her whiter-than-usual skin and an expression that was hard to classify. Her expression was cold, hard and set, totally unreadable in undeniable coldness, hints of underlying rage peeking through the calm exterior.
Dawn had come to Rack's to find Willow, but now there was a part of her that wished she hadn't. The first thing she had seen when she walked into his room was his lifeless, desiccated and mummified body floating in the air, his form drained of his energies and powers, sucked dry, although Dawn hadn't known that was the cause until she had seen Willow.
Apart from the appearance, Willow was acting differently too. More intimidating and imposing, at first trying to be flippant, but her voice had changed. It was empty, devoid of emotion as she told Dawn that she was fine, and the only spark she had seen that it was still the same person inside that shell was when she had mentioned Xander. She had asked Dawn if she missed him, to which she replied she did, of course, and Willow had said she understood that, and the crying because it was human, especially with the crush she knew Dawn had always had on him, even if it had waned a little in the past year or so.
Then things had gotten seriously scary when Willow had started talking about Dawn not always being human, that she used to be a ball of energy, and that somehow had led to her mocking her cruelly and threatening to turn her back. She had backed her up against a wall, trapping her there as the room began to crackle with energy, Willow's voice now echoing of its own accord.
"No more tears, Dawnie..." Willow told her.
Dawn closed her eyes, the tears that had been filling them pushing down her cheeks as she anticipated Willow's blow. Then, there was a noise. The sound of something solid breaking, cracking loudly and violently. Dawn opened her eyes as Willow turned to see Buffy standing in the now-open doorway.
"I think you need to get away from her," Buffy told her, thrown at the scene she was witnessing but determined. She crossed over to her sister, pulling her away from Willow. "You need to back down and think a minute, Will."
Willow shrugged. "Wasn't gonna hurt her, Buzzkill."
Dawn looked at her sister, clearly terrified. "She tried to turn me back..."
Buffy turned back to Willow. "You're attacking the people who love you now?"
"Only the ones in my way..." Willow said with a sneer.
"That's not..." Buffy began desperately. "You need help."
"Doing fine on my own, thanks."
"Dawn," Buffy said, turning to her sister and pushing her towards the open door. "Get out of here. Go."
Dawn did as she was told, but the door slammed closed, locked tight as Dawn looked back at Buffy and Willow.
"Don't," Willow said, unnerving them both. "We're all friends."
"Willow, I know what you want to do," Buffy began, "But listen to me: the forces inside you are incredibly powerful. They're strong, but you're stronger. You have to remember. You're still Willow."
"Let me tell you something about Willow," Willow told them, amused. "She's a loser. And she always has been. Everyone picked on Willow in junior high school, high school, up until college with her stupid mousy ways and now...Willow's a junkie."
"I can help."
"The only thing Willow was ever good for..." she said, and for just a fraction of a second she could feel herself coming down from the power, and she looked at Buffy with a wistfulness in her eyes. "...The only thing I had going for me, were those moments - just moments - when Xander was my best friend, and I belonged to someone, was part of something good that nobody else could touch. And that will never happen again."
"I know this hurts. Bad," Buffy said, feeling the sting of emotion rise in her again. "But you can't do this."
"Why not?"
"Because you're not the only one hurting here," she told her. "He died saving my life. I loved him, too."
"No, you didn't," Willow told her angrily. "Not like I did. You used him, Buffy, you always did. You came to this town and you got us involved in all of your crap. You got him involved. And it got him killed. You never cared about him, you just cared about what he could do for you. He thought he was in love with you, and you just lapped it up, didn't you? You loved the attention he gave you and you knew he'd have done anything for you. He was your back up, wasn't he? When Angel screwed you around or when Riley finally wised up to you being an emotional wreck, you took it out on him. You took him away from me. For years it was him and me against everything else because we were all we had, and then you come along and...it's gone. Everything changed. Because of you."
"Will, I never..."
"Oh, please," Willow said coldly. "You're telling me you never meant it? You're sorry? Don't bother."
"And what about Tara?" Buffy asked. "She loves you."
"More fool her."
"Will," Buffy said sadly, "If you let loose with the Magicks now, it will never end."
"Promise?" Willow asked brightly.
"You don't want that."
"Why not?"
"Because you lose everything. Your friends, your self...you let this control you and the world goes away, and all of us with it. There's so much to love for. Willow, there's too much to—"
"Ack! Please!" Willow said at her hesitation. "This is your pitch?" she asked smugly. "You hate it here as much as I do. I'm just more honest about it."
"That's not true..."
"You're trying to sell me on the world?" Willow asked. "The one where you lie to your friends when you're not trying to kill them and you screw a vampire just to feel and insane asylums are the comfy alternative?" she asked with a smirk, the room slowly spinning, the light and background changing, blurring out of focus, the inhabitants of the room apparently not aware of the transformation. "This world? Buffy, it's me!" she told her. "I know you were happier when you were in the ground, hanging with the worms. The only time you were ever at peace in your whole life is when you were dead. Until Willow brought you back..." Willow stopped as they suddenly found they were no longer at Rack's, but at the Magic Box. "...You know, with Magick."
Dawn and Buffy staggered as they took in their new surroundings with confusion.
"Sorry," Willow told them insincerely. "The trip can be kinda rough if you're, you know, not me."
Buffy closed her eyes against the dizziness and the nausea, holding out an arm to stead herself as Dawn tried to hold on to the counter they had appeared next to, instead finding herself collapsing on the floor with disorientation in front of a stunned Anya and Tara.
"Dawn..." Buffy said worriedly, moving to her sister, the force of the transportation too much, making her fall to the ground next to Dawn.
Willow turned to look at them both, glaring at Buffy with distaste. "You love Dawn so much?" she asked.
"You know I do," Buffy told her tearfully, sounding surprised at the question.
"Is that why you've ignored her ever since you came back?" Willow asked venomously. "Is that why you couldn't even bear to spend one night with her? Why you've never bothered to ask how school is? Why you've never even cared that she's still grieving for her mother but won't dare mention it around you in case it upsets you? In case it makes you hate life any more than you already do?"
"Willow, stop," Dawn said quietly.
Willow looked back at Buffy. "You wanna protect your sister, Buffy?" she asked. "Keep her safe?"
"Of course," Buffy told her. "That's all I ever wanted."
"Is that why you took away the only person she could stand to be around when you died?"
"What are you...?"
"She didn't want me or Xander or Tara or Giles," Willow told Buffy. "She wanted Spike. But, then, suddenly you're alive again and Chip Boy forgets all about the person he swore to protect and always be there for. Her only real friend, Buff, and you took him away. How does that feel?" She grinned snidely. "But as long as Buffy's okay, right?" she said. "She can go out and screw a dead guy she always claimed she couldn't stand just to hide from her life, her friends, reality. It doesn't matter that he was a mass murderer, or that he's tried to kill everyone you've ever cared about, and what, you're surprised when he tried to force himself on you?"
"How do you know...?"
"I'm not stupid," Willow told her. "I saw the bruises, the ripped robe. You took Dawn there to stay with him while you came after me. Lucky he wasn't there, huh? But before that...you let him touch you with the blood of a thousand victims on his hands while Dawn's dinner got cold sitting in a brown paper bag on top of a tomb stone, and then you come home and hug your sister with his stench still on you."
She shook her head in disgust. "Wanna know why I was gonna turn her back, Buff?" she asked. "So she wouldn't have to deal with you disappointing her time and time again, ignoring her so you can bang a vampire. We should have left you in the ground," she spat at her. "We should have left you rotting in your coffin with the worms and the maggots and the spiders."
"Willow," Tara began, walking around the counter to reach her and stopping short when she saw Willow's face and the intent clearly written there. "Please..."
Willow turned her attention back to Buffy. "I should have left you in the ground," she repeated. "I should never have used Osiris to bring you back. If I hadn't..." she said, the awful pursed lips signalling her anger, "...If I had left you where you were, he wouldn't have refused to bring Xander back to us. To me. Someone who would have appreciated it, being back in the world. Someone who wouldn't waste their lives doing things that disgust even themselves."
"Willow," Tara said gently. "Sweetie, you heard what he said. He wouldn't have been able to do anything. It was a natural death..."
"Oh, stop!" Willow sneered at her, looking back at Buffy. "I guess we'll never find out, will we?" she asked, a dangerous look in her eyes.
Willow tore her glare away from the Slayer and the Scoobies, turning to look around the room, her attention resting on Jonathon and Andrew who were huddled and cowering in fear. "Jonathan. Andrew," she said, amusement in her voice. "You boys like Magicks, don't you?" She raised her hands above her head, the room darkening harshly. "Abra cadabra," she said, blasting them both with an energy that was so horrifying it changed the colour of the air around them, the sound like thunder and screaming combined.