Tara should have known better. "The library? On a Friday? Even Red ain't that dedicated." Faith tilted her head and looked at her. "You trying to get rid of us or something?"
"N-no," Tara stuttered. Not exactly. "I…I ha-have a paper I need to w-work on." She took a few steps toward the path. "It's OK. I c-can get there myself."
"Right. 'Cause you did so well the first time." Faith pulled Willow along as she jogged up next to Tara. "I'm not the best at judging people, but even I know you're hiding something. What is it, Blondie? Better you tell me. You don't, I'll unleash Red."
Glancing at Willow, Tara flinched from the intent, almost commanding expression. She'd caved to that look once before. It was unlikely she'd do better a second time. "I was go-going to spend the n-night there," Tara mumbled.
"Spend the night?" Willow grabbed her arm. "Why? You just moved in with Buffy."
That was the problem. Tara didn't want to say that, though. Willow was Buffy's friend. "I'm mo-moving out in the morning." The words popped out, and Tara closed her eyes with a moan. She hadn't meant to say that.
"Moving out?" They could probably hear Willow's voice on all the way in Los Angeles. "You just moved in." Her grip on Tara's arm tightened until her fingers dug painfully into Tara's skin. "What did Buffy do?"
"Red." Faith pried the fingers off Tara's arm. "You're gonna leave dents with that grip"
Rubbing at the spot Willow had grabbed, Tara stayed silent.
Unfortunately, Willow didn't accept her non-answer. Arms over her chest, Willow glared at Tara, brows almost meeting over her eyes. Her lips pressed into a thin line. "What did Buffy do?" she demanded.
"She didn't do anything." Tara shrugged mental shoulders and gave in. Part of her wanted this. Wanted to finally tell someone about the abuse at the hands of Hemery's golden girl.
"I ain't buying that, Blondie." Faith stood just behind Willow, hands resting on her girlfriend's shoulders. "'Nothing' don't make someone hide in a library instead of sleeping in their own bed."
Trying again, Tara said softly, "She didn't do anything today. It was in high school." Her eyes closed and her shoulder drooped forward. High school. They should have called it was it really was: hell.
Willow's groan surprised her. "Frilly heck. She mentioned something about this once."
"Huh?" Faith seemed as confused as Tara. "What did B do?"
"Think Cordy and the Cordettes, Faith." Was Willow speaking English? "She said she was like them, mean and petty."
Faith snorted. "That's a newsflash? She's still like that."
Her suspicions were right, then. Buffy hadn't changed. Tara wrapped her arms around her stomach. The library was a good idea. So was looking for another roommate.
One of Willow's hands shot out and she pinched Faith in the side.
"Ow!" Jumping back, Faith rubbed her side. "What the fuck was that for?"
"Buffy is not like that, and you know it." Now her glare turned on Faith. Tara was gratified to see the other girl wilt beneath the heat. "She's so not a Cordy clone anymore."
Lip stuck out in a pout, Faith looked around the clearing – anywhere except at Willow.
"Faith," Willow warned, one slender finger pointing at her girlfriend.
"OK. B's not like Cordy." The admission seemed torn out of a very reluctant Faith. "She just pushes my buttons, that's all."
Nodding firmly, Willow turned back to Tara. "What did she do, Tara?" Her voice was gentler this time. "Believe me; I've been a victim of the cheerleaders of the world. I'll understand."
It was like her encouragement opened the floodgates. Tears spilled from Tara's eyes as she stuttered and sobbed her way through the story. "She m-made my life mis-miserable. All those p-people in the mall. L-laughing at me," Tara related the incident in the mall. "And…and th-then, she just kept pushing m-me. In the hall-hallway and the cafeteria. The school ch-charged me for my b-books because they got ripped from me dr-dropping them all the time."
Now, four years later, her tale sounded pathetic and unimportant. However, Tara remembered the way she'd thrown up before going to school. Just the sight of Buffy in the hallway had sent her running for cover.
A pair of arms enveloped Tara. "She isn't like that anymore," Willow promised softly. "I'd never be friends with someone like that, Tara. I put up with that from the time I was in Kindergarten. No one deserves that. As a matter of fact, Buffy helped me get over it; helped me find my confidence."
Wiping her eyes, Tara met Willow's sincere gaze. She wanted to believe Willow. She wanted to let go of the past.
However, the harsh sound of mocking laughter echoed in her mind.
"Please t-take me to the li-library," Tara said softly.
The lasagna was excellent. Buffy concentrated on eating – and on avoiding any more talk about Tara.
"That's the last of it, honey. Once you finish, we're talking." Joyce started clearing the table.
Suddenly, the food wasn't so good anymore. It sat heavily in Buffy's stomach, and she swallowed against the bile burning her throat. "Can we not and say we did?" she pleaded. "I mean, she's moving out in the morning. That's what she told me. I might not ever see her again."
She looked away from the disappointed hazel eyes that Joyce turned her way.
"Or we could talk," Buffy mumbled, playing with her silverware.
"That's my little girl." Patting Buffy's shoulder, Joyce cleaned off the dirty dishes. "Always making the right choices. You can point that out to Tara the next time you see her."
Buffy laughed reluctantly. "How do you do that, Mom?" She looked up at Joyce, who was leaning against the sink. "Make everything OK?"
"I wish I could make it OK, Buffy." Walking closer, Joyce sat down in a chair and gripped Buffy's hand. "I can't, though. I can only help you come up with ways to deal with your decisions."
Joyce's hand was a lifeline. Hanging onto it, Buffy closed her eyes. "I can't convince Tara of anything unless I talk to her, but I don't even know where she is or if she'll come back to the room."
"Did she leave anything there tonight?" Joyce stroked her thumb soothingly over the back of Buffy's hand. "If so, she'll have to come back to pack up again."
"I…I hadn't thought of that." Who was she kidding? Once she'd figured out who Tara was, she hadn't been thinking at all. Buffy tried to remember if there was anything of Tara's in the room. "Maybe. A couple of pictures. I only really saw her books and a back pack."
Buffy's frown grew. Where were the rest of Tara's things?
"I guess she might have been meaning to move the rest of her stuff in tomorrow." That meant Tara didn't have to go back to their room. Buffy slumped. This wasn't getting them anywhere.
"Honey, go back to the dorm and wait. See if Tara comes back. Then talk to her." Joyce's voice was insistent. "I know you can't tell her about the Slaying, but…Can you use character witnesses?"
Opening her eyes, Buffy shrugged. "You mean get Will and Xander to tell Tara what a great friend I am?" She rolled her eyes. "That'll work, Mom." Then another thought hit her. "I haven't told them about Tara. I might not get a good reference once they know what I did." Her stomach cramped.
"Come on, honey. Enough with the Pity Poor Buffy routine." Joyce pulled her hand away and tapped Buffy's knee. "Those two are your biggest fans. Do you really think something you did three years ago, in another life, would make them turn on you?"
When she put it like that, it did sound crazy. "No," Buffy mumbled.
"Then lets not get carried away," Joyce insisted.
"Is that all I can do?" It didn't sound like much. "I don't think Tara will care what Will and Xander say. I know I wouldn't…if Tara had done all that to me."
Tilting her head, Joyce appeared to think hard. "It's a start, honey. Maybe it might convince Tara to not move out. Once she spends time with you, she'll realize you aren't going to torment or tease her anymore."
"I'll try." Buffy wasn't convinced it would work. However, it was the only plan she had. Glancing at the clock, she groaned. "Shit."
Joyce cleared her throat warningly.
"Mo-om," Buffy whined. She was in college now. It wasn't like she'd said anything really bad.
Sandy eyebrows rose over narrowed hazel eyes.
Slumping, Buffy uttered a soft, "Sorry," before explaining the outburst. "I'm supposed to meet the gang at the Bronze in about ten minutes." She straightened and smiled grimly. "It's time to start Phase One in our plan – admitting my sins to the Scoobies."