Once Anya had teleported back in, the people who were going out to fight had headed to the entrance to the ER within seconds.

Only Xander had stayed behind for a second. "If any of them get past us –"

"They won't hurt Dawn. Or, or Buffy."

Xander smiled. "This'll all be over soon, Tara. Then you can stop being the strong one." He'd hugged her and jogged off after everyone else.

Just not yet.

I have to be able to cast spells if it means protecting Buffy and Dawn. Because if one of the vampires or demons gets in here --

I'm not a fighter. I know some spells that could be useful in a fight – I've used them a couple of times – but I've never been a warrior. Not like Buffy, or Xander, or –

Or even Willow. I remember she told me how, during the summer between their junior and senior years when Buffy left Sunnydale after – after something horrible happened, she never did tell me exactly what – how she and Xander and Oz and Giles tried to do what Buffy did – "with mixed results," she'd said, laughing, after which Xander'd said, "Translation: We got our butts kicked more often than not. But every once in a while we were the ones who got to deliver the whuppin'."

And Willow had fought them. Not with magic. Without any abilities at all, because she had to. It was one of the things I loved – and will always love -- about her.

I don't know if I ever could have done that. If someone I loved was hurting, I'd do it in a second. But to go out and actively seek the confrontations?

That's never been me.

Still isn't. We didn't look for this big battle with Warren and his 'army' of demonic idiots; they came to us.

I've never thought the proactive approach Buffy takes has been a bad idea; I've just said it's not the way I personally work.

Maybe it's time I changed my mind. If we'd done more to look for these people – or even if we'd tried to find Rack – maybe none of this would have happened. Warren would be in jail. Rack would be out of business or dead, and I can't say I'd mourn his passing.

Maybe Willow would still be alive.

I know what the saying is. Wish in one hand and spit in the other and see which one fills up first. Unless you've got a vengeance demon around, and even then they'll usually twist your wishes to make something go bad. I'm just glad Anya kind of still likes us, even after Xander left her at the altar.


Still, for the moment I have to stay here and wait for the battle to come to me. Because I'm the only protection Dawnie and Buffy have right now.

Goddess, give me peace and strength. Goddess, give me peace and strength . . .

Tara prayed for a while until she felt a kind of serenity overtake her. But this wasn't the serenity she usually felt. This was peace combined with fury. Instinctively, she tried to fight the rage.

Goddess! What is it I'm feeling?

Righteous anger.

No! Magic born out of anger leads to evil!

Or does it? Maybe – maybe anger is a tool. Used badly, it could lead to Warren getting flayed alive. Or beaten to death by Angel. Or to have some horrible vengeance inflicted on him by Anya.

Or to going dark with rage and black magic.

Channeled correctly, though, maybe it can be a tool for justice.


Goddess, let me channel this correctly. Let me use my anger as a tool to do what is right – what is right for the world, not just what is right for me.

Let me be the mistress of my emotions, so that they will not master me.

Let me use my rage and grief.

Tara had done all of this with her eyes closed, leaning against the wall. When she opened her eyes again, she held out her left hand and said a few words of power.

A spark of witchfire appeared in her palm.

Despite everything, she smiled.

She was ready now.

And, she suddenly realized as she saw Warren going through the doors to the ER recovery area, that she'd better be.

She followed him through the doors as soon as she was certain no one was watching, saw him disappear around a corner –

And then saw Dawnie unconscious, sitting next to the doorway. She bent down and checked on her – Warren had clearly hit her over the head.

Thank goodness. Her breathing is strong.

Tara opened the door and saw Warren standing near Buffy, holding a pistol -- the same pistol that killed my Willow. He said, "Just you and me now, baby. And there's no one who can stop me now."

Goddess, Willow: Let me focus my energies . . .

Tara said, "Raffica!"

A windblast shot from her hands and slammed Warren into the wall, narrowly missing some of Buffy's IV tubes.

Tara said, "Wrong," as Warren looked up.

"You!" Warren said. "I should've wondered where you were when I didn't see you outside." He raised the gun. "Doesn't matter. I can kill you and then her."

"You're in the middle of a hospital," Tara said. "I, I think even the people of Sunnydale would get a little suspicious about gunfire."

"Do you think I care about that any more, blondie? You and your little friends have already ruined my life and all my plans. All I care about now is getting my revenge." He pointed the gun directly at her.

Focus the emotion. Focus the energy.

"Scald!" Tara said.

As Warren got ready to pull the trigger, the gun suddenly got so hot he couldn't hold it any more. "Ouch!" he yelled, flinging it to the floor. "What did you do, you stupid bitch?"

I'm not going to take the bait. I'm not going to sink to his level.

"Freddo!" she said, picking down to pick up the now cooled gun.

She pointed it at him. "You were talking about revenge," Tara said. "How it's worth anything to you. How, how you obviously don't care about what happens to you next. I wonder if, if you feel that way now."

"You're not going to shoot me," he said confidently. "You don't have it in you."

"Really?" Tara asked. "You murdered the woman I love. While, while going for revenge, you shot her. Took the most amazing person who has ever existed away. And you tried to kill one of my best friends. Twice. So ask, ask yourself this, Warren. How sure are you that I'm not going to pull this trigger?" He said nothing. "Revenge. It's a very powerful motivator. I've, I've had people all around me today who want nothing more than to have you be painfully dead. Who want to hurt you. To flay you alive. And, and these are people with the power to do it." After a second. "I have the power to do it, Warren. I could pull this trigger. Or I could say any one of a hundred words of power. Some would kill you quickly. Others, others would eat you up from the inside. Slowly. Do you want that?" Again, no answer. "How sure are you?"

"You, you don't want to do that," he said. "It would mean you're no better than me. I'm -- I'm a bad person. I see that now."

No, you don't see that, Warren. You are incapable of seeing that. I wonder. Were you born without a conscience or did you just lose it along the way?

It doesn't matter, right now.

"You're lucky. Because you're right. You are a bad person. And I am better than you."

"I knew you didn't have it in you."

"I have it in me," Tara said. "What makes me better than you is the fact that I'm not doing it."

"So what? You're just going to hold me here until the police come?"

There was a commotion behind Tara in the hall. Tara took a step away from the door, never taking her eyes off of Warren.

Angel, Xander and Anya came in. "Tara --" Xander said.

"Don't worry," Tara said, handing Xander the pistol, which he quickly pocketed. Angel moved over to check on Buffy, who had remained unconscious throughout the whole thing. "I'm not going to kill him." She looked at Warren. "And neither are any of you. Anya --"

"Yes?"

"I'm ready for my vengeance wish."

Warren had some idea of what vengeance wishes entailed, because he fell to his knees, saying, "Oh God, please, no. Don't, don't let her do it . . ." Visions of having his toes burned off one by one are no doubt dancing through his head right now. Or being shot, repeatedly, until one of the bullets finally kills him. Or something like that.

But that's too good for him.

"It's, it's a complicated one. Please wait until I'm done." Anya nodded.

"I wish . . . I wish that Warren Mears had a conscience. I wish he actually understood how horrible everything he's done has been. I wish he knew the pain I felt when I felt the woman I love die in my arms. I wish he knew your pain as well, knowing that Willow is dead -- and that Buffy could have died. And I wish that his life be a long one -- at least another seventy years, for which he will be conscious every single day -- and that he think about these things every one of those days as long as he lives." Warren's eyes grew wider as he heard all of this. "I want him to suffer the loss."

Anya smiled grimly. "Done."