One Tiny Piece of Metal

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I do own the story, so don't steal it. Except a few lines I stole from Joss.

Chapter 1: The Shooting

Willow was reluctant to get out of the bed in the morning, but it had to be done. The sun was shining brightly through the window. There was no denying it. Morning had come, and was already on its way out. She glanced at the clock beside her bed. 10:58. Sighing, she rolled over to face the blond beauty beside her.

"Tara, baby?" she began.

"Mm-hmm?" her lover murmured in reply, sleepily opening her eyes.

"I'm off to the bathroom. Be back in a sec."

Tara giggled and grabbed Willow's arm as the redhead slid out of bed. Smiling at the contact, Willow turned back to her lover. Tara just looked up at her expectantly. Giggling, Willow leaned in for a kiss. Several seconds later, she pulled away, glancing meaningfully at the door. Tara, now fully awake, just smiled wickedly. The bed, with its satin sheets and, best of all, her lover, was very alluring, but Willow knew she had to be strong.

When Willow returned from her excursion to the bathroom, Tara was up and dressing. She had brought over a box of clothes the night before. As soon as the nerd Trio was taken care of, they were going to head over to Tara's dorm and retrieve the rest of her stuff. Just the thought of her wonderful Tara moving in with her made her feel so...so...ecstatic? Somehow she didn't think 'ecstatic' did the feeling inside her justice. Complete, perhaps? Or peaceful. Both, she decided. All of it. Everything good rolled up into one perfect feeling. Tara was moving in with her.

As all of this was running through her mind, she absent-mindedly dug through her dresser. She settled on jeans and a white blouse. As she pulled the blouse over her head, she rejoiced in the knowledge that Tara was sitting not five feet away from her, on the edge of the bed. Then it occurred to her why she had chosen this particular shirt. She had been with Tara when she had bought it nearly a year ago. Her task completed, she quickly ran a brush through her red hair. She could hear the soothing sound of Tara pulling a brush through her dirty blond hair in the background. She frowned slightly.

"What are you thinking about?" Tara said softly.

Willow turned to face her girlfriend. "I was thinking about the phrase 'dirty blond.' You're not dirty," she said as she sat down on the bed, her knees touching Tara's. She slipped her right arm around the other woman's waist.

"Well," Tara said as her hand slid up Willow's thigh, "at the moment, I'm feeling rather dirty..." Willow cut her off with a deep kiss.

When they pulled away, Willow was smiling almost shyly. "I wasn't talking about dirty thoughts..."

"I was," Tara replied.

---

Sunlight was shining in Xander's eyes. He groaned and rolled over. As he began to drift away again, the neighbors started yelling.

"Ugh," he moaned as he pressed a pillow over his head. "Can't you keep your domestic disputes to yourself?"

When the shouting, only slightly muted by the walls, did not cease, Xander gave up. He reluctantly removed the pillow, and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He felt pretty much like crap. His face hurt, and he knew now that he'd drunk too much last night. But the thought of Spike doing...what he'd done, or tried to do, to Buffy, not to mention the physical pain, had been too much on top of everything else that had gone wrong since the not-wedding. Now, the hangover was almost too much.

Groaning, he lifted himself out of the bed and stumbled to the kitchen. He promptly poured and downed a glass of cold water, and fetched an ice pack from the freezer. Pressing it to his face, he put some popcorn in the microwave. To hell with a healthy breakfast. While the popcorn popped, he made his way to the bathroom. He washed his face, and looked up in the mirror. He sure as hell looked a lot better today than he had yesterday. Sighing, he turned around. His gaze caught the shower curtains.

He remembered seeing Spike's coat on the banister. His already dark mood had turned even darker as he stomped up the stairs and into the bathroom. Only to find Buffy sitting against the bathtub, tears streaming down her face and a large bruise rising on her inner thigh. The shower curtain was torn from its hangers, and hung limply behind her.

Blinking at his own shower curtains, Xander suddenly felt the need to sit down. God, he thought as he walked to the couch, poor Buffy. Understatement of the year. As he sat down, he thought about everything she had had to deal with this year. Comes back from the grave, from heaven nonetheless, finds out she's dirt poor, has to get a job in a fast food place, and the only person she can talk to is evil and undead. And then he had to come along and freak when he found out that she'd been boinking Spike behind all their backs. Okay, well, he was still freaked by that, but it was hard to stay mad at her after seeing her sobbing on her bathroom floor.

I've really screwed things up this year, he said to himself.

The smell of burning popcorn brought him out of his reverie.

"Crap," he muttered as he rushed to turn off the microwave. "Ouch," he hissed as he picked up the hot paper bag. "Shit," he cursed as he stubbed his toe.

Xander fanned at the air to disperse the smoke and the burnt smell, all the while hopping on one foot. It was official. This was not his day. He admitted defeat. The room smelled terrible. He had to get out of here. A small grin crept across his face as he thought about how he owed Buffy an apology...

---

"Hey. Clothes," Willow said, looking at the mirror as she finished buttoning up the blouse. Jeans. Check. Shirt. Check. She was officially ready for the outside world.

"Better not get used to them," Tara said, turning to address her girlfriend. She too was dressed again, wearing a turquoise shirt and jeans.

"Mmm, yes ma'am," Willow said, giggling as she snuggled up with her girlfriend. Their lips pressed together in a gentle kiss. They pulled away from the kiss only to hug each other, relishing the feeling of being in each other's arms again, even if there were clothes between them.

"Think maybe we should have breakfast?" Willow said, scrunching up her face at the thought of leaving the bedroom.

"At noon," Tara said, reading the clock. "Little late for pancakes, don't you think?"

"Lunch then," Willow said, snagging a quick kiss as the two walked out the door, arms intertwined.

---

Nothing yet, Buffy thought idly as she wandered through the yard. She prodded the plants in search of Evil Trio cameras. Evil Uno now. Jonathon and what's-his-face got clinked, but they had never been very important. Just a bit of a nuisance. Jonathon's little show had certainly been entertaining. Crush his orbs? Of course that hadn't sounded dirty, oh no. She snorted with slight amusement, but she didn't really feel amused. Warren was still out there, so she would keep on looking.

Finding no hidden cameras, she threw her stick down with frustration. She was glad there were no cameras, really she was. But she wanted to find him. Setting her hands on her hips, she turned back to the house. Then she heard the footsteps, and saw the flash of dark hair as she spun around.

"Xan–" she began.

The bullet thudded into her chest before she could finish. He was saying something, but she couldn't hear. He was moving, but she couldn't see. She was falling. She couldn't feel the ground beneath her, or the pool of blood blossoming around her. All she could feel was the pain.