"Sometimes I wish I would just die," muttered Tara. Tara was the descendant of a once powerful wizard and slayer. She was a slayer herself now and carried the name Tara Buffy Rosenberg.

"That would make the world a very devastating place to live in," Spike said. Tara was lying curled up on her bed, face towards the way. Spike was sitting next to her, his hand on her long orange hair. He stroked her cheek.

"A new slayer would come forth, like they always do," Tara said. The tale went that with a death of a slayer, a new slayer would arise. A girl who was as normal as everyone would gain the powers of a slayer and join the band of young girls.

"Would you want someone to become a slayer?"

"If it meant, I wouldn't have to be," Tara said.

"Tara, you do know who one of your ancestors is?"

"No." It was true. Most slayers tended to follow back their lineage to see if they were part of the original Buffy bloodline, but Tara preferred to stay in the dark. If she was a of true Buffy blood, more would be expected of her. It was hard enough on the 15-year-old being part slayer, part witch, but being descended from the original slayer.

"Willow Rosenberg. I knew her and do you know why?" He continued before letting her answer: "Because she was a friend of Buffy's. Look, Tara, I know you're scared of your duties and obligations. You're scared that you could be descended from Buffy, which mind you isn't such a bad thing, but you're not. It might not lift your current burden, but…"

"Willow? The white witch?" Tara uncurled slightly and turned to look at him.

"You've got her hair. It was shorter though," he told her and held his hand to his shoulders. She smiled and then it changed and she looked sad again.

"But… I still… I feel the blood on my hands. It's not there, but I feel it."

"You're a witch, Tara. There's no need for you to be punching vampires, now is there."

"What do you mean?"

"Willow, the white witch, never really did much fighting but she did do a great deal of kicking ass with her magic. Made pencils fly and such."

"Pencils?"

"Little stakes, Tara." Spike got up and smiled at the girl. Another problem solved. "Little stakes."