Hunched over the mug, Buffy grunted. "Empty," she lamented. Picking it up, she tried licking some of the moisture from the inside. Her tongue wasn't long enough. Growling in frustration, she slammed the mug onto the bar.
Shards of glass flew everywhere, and Buffy whimpered as one of them embedded itself into her palm. Blood slicked her hand and wrist immediately.
"Here. This'll help," Jack said and held out a towel.
Buffy stared at him in confusion. Slowly, she reached out her injured hand, and Jack pressed the white cotton against the deep cut.
Giving her a concerned look, Jack stepped closer. "You OK? Maybe you should take it easy on that beer. I don't want to have to call you a cab, too. My brother mentioned you a couple of times, and you're a different story than those frat boys."
Irritated at the continued buzz of his voice, Buffy clutched the towel over the still oozing cut and ordered curtly, "More beer."
Willow's sharp gasp filled the room. Glancing rapidly between the three women, Tara remained very still. This wasn't her business – no matter what Mrs. Summers said.
"I…I didn't mean to hurt Buffy," Willow whispered. Her eyes brimmed with tears. "She just surprised me." Holding out a pleading hand, and ignoring the way Faith's arms tightened around her, she begged Mrs. Summers, "Please don't think I did it on purpose."
Holding her breath along with Willow, Tara waited for Mrs. Summers' response.
"I know you didn't do it on purpose, Willow," Mrs. Summers said quietly.
Tara sagged in relief and saw Willow start to smile tremulously.
"Look at it from Buffy's perspective, though, honey," Mrs. Summers continued.
Willow's smile disappeared.
Driving her point home in a soft and reasonable voice, Mrs. Summers said, "She confessed something terrible, Willow. Something she trusted you to hear and consider and judge based on all of the wonderful things she's accomplished here."
Tara couldn't even look at anyone. The words were clearly not directed at her. They so easily could have been, though. They should have been. Ducking her head again, Tara realized she had only seen Buffy as she had been in the past. She'd never, not for a second, considered that time could have changed even Buffy's personality.
Mrs. Summers wasn't finished, though. As Tara peered through her hair at a softly sobbing Willow, the gentle yet devastating rebuke went on. "As if the seeming loss of her best friend wasn't enough, her sister Slay…" Mrs. Summers faltered for a second, and Tara saw all three women stare at her for a moment.
Blushing at their regard, she shrank farther into the couch. Looking away, she wondered what she'd done now.
"What I meant was," Mrs. Summers tried again, "that, despite the problems you two sometimes have, Faith, I know Buffy thinks of you as her sister."
For the first time since she had come charging to Tara's rescue, Faith seemed less than confident. Shifting uncomfortably under Willow, Faith said, "I didn't do nothing, Mrs. S. Red wanted to come home. You want me to let her walk back from the Bronze after dark…alone?"
"Oh, Faith." Mrs. Summers' sigh dripped disappointment.
Tara glanced across the couch – then away again immediately. She never wanted that sad, pained expression turned her way.
Neither did Faith, apparently. "Sorry," she mumbled into the back of Willow's head.
"I'm not the one who needs your apology, honey." Mrs. Summers shifted on the couch, reaching for the cordless phone handset on the end table next to her. "I think there is someone missing from this meeting, don't you, girls?"
The loud, shrill sound coming from her pocket caused Buffy to jump, and the beer she'd been about to drink spilled down the front of her shirt and onto the bar. Growling, she wiped at the sticky, wet material clinging to her chest.
It didn't help much.
Giving up on trying to get rid of the liquid with her hands, Buffy bent her head and sucked the beer-soaked collar of her shirt into her mouth. "Good," she mumbled.
Then her eyes fell on the puddle on the bar. Moving quickly, Buffy pressed her lips to the wood and lapped at the beer. "Beer good," Buffy announced happily.
She was too busy drinking to notice that her cell phone had stopped ringing.
"She's not answering, Mrs. Summers," Willow said softly. "I bet she doesn't want to talk to me." Clutching the phone tightly, she returned to her seat in Faith's lap.
Mrs. Summers didn't look happy, either. "Buffy wanted to talk to you, Willow. You and Tara. It's why she went back to campus this morning." Getting up from the couch, she wandered over to stand in front of the living room window. "It's not like her to not answer her phone."
"B's a big girl, Mrs. S." Faith seemed hesitant to say anything. Tara watched her drum her fingers on Willow's arm. "I bet she went to Jeeves' place to let off some steam."
Jeeves? Tara wanted to ask who (or what) that was. She didn't, though. Mrs. Summers turned to face them again, and she looked worried. "Under normal situations, honey, I'd think so, too. However, this is anything but normal. Could you…Willow, will you call Rupert and see if Buffy is there with him?"
The emotions suddenly swirling suddenly in the room engulfed Tara. Biting her lip, she watched Willow punch in a number and hold the phone to her ear. The wait seemed to take forever. "Hello, Giles? Hi. Um…it's Willow."
The reply was inaudible. Willow's blush, though, was immediate.
"Sorry. I know you know who I am." Wiggling in Faith's lap, Willow kept babbling. "Mrs. Summers is here with me and Faith. Oh, Tara's here, too."
Mrs. Summers took a step toward Willow at the same time Faith tapped a finger gently on Willow's lips.
Willow took a deep breath and smiled an embarrassed apology. "We were wondering if Buffy was there training."
Now Tara heard a deep voice rumbling out of the phone's earpiece.
"Oh. OK. Well, if you see her, could you tell her to call? I really need to talk to her. Bye, Giles." Willow disconnected the call. "Buffy isn't there," she announced unnecessarily.
"You think she mighta gone back to the dorm, Red? To wait for you or T?" Faith kissed Willow's cheek. She took the phone out of Willow's and dialed. "Here. See if she answers."
They all watched Willow intently. Finally, Willow lowered the phone. "No answer. Where would she have gone?"
The noise behind Buffy grew louder. She tossed back the last of her beer and slid unsteadily off the barstool. The noise needed to stop. "Stop!" Buffy commanded the group of young men shoving and grunting at each other.
It worked. They stopped and turned to stare at Buffy.
"Good." Ignoring the gawkers, Buffy pointed at Jack who was bussing a table. "More beer."
He smiled uncomfortably. "Sure. I can get you another. Just not the same stuff you've been drinking." Picking up the bin of dirty glasses, Jack walked slowly back toward the bar. "My brother stopped by a little while ago and took the last few kegs." He sighed and dropped the heavy load on the bar's surface. "Too bad, too. It's been my best seller tonight."
Buffy's eyes narrowed at the unintelligible flood of words. To help Jack understand what she wanted (and to get him to be quiet), she picked her mug off the bar and shoved it at him. "Fill."
Looking resigned, Jack reached for the glass and dropped it into the bin with the rest of the empties. He retrieved a clean mug and stuck it under the tap.
A surge in the shouting behind Buffy preceded a loud crash.
"Son of a bitch!" Jack looked toward the ruckus. Buffy's beer mug remained only half-filled under the spigot as he raced under the pass-through. "Hey! Break it up!"
Something else crashed.
"I didn't mean the furniture, you idiot!" Jack's voice roared over a ragged cheer.
Buffy ignored it all. She stared at the partially filled mug and licked her lips. "More beer," she mumbled before looking furtively around.
Jack was wading through the group of drunken brawlers. He wouldn't notice anything. And the few other drinkers were either cheering on the floorshow or hovering protectively over their own mugs.
Grinning in delight, Buffy vaulted the bar. She picked up the glass and grasped the tap handle the way she'd seen Jack do.
Beer flowed smoothly into the mug.
Grunting happily, Buffy pulled the now full glass out. Beer continued to flow from the tap. Tilting her head in confusion, Buffy pushed against the spigot.
Rather than stop the flow, the beer simply splashed onto the floor.
Buffy shoved her hand under the steady stream and pressed her palm against the bottom of the spigot.
The beer stopped.
With one last grunt of satisfaction, Buffy went back to drinking.
The second she moved her hand, though, beer spilled out.
"Bad beer," Buffy growled. Giving up on anything more complicated than drinking, she took a huge mouthful of beer. Cheeks bulging, Buffy still managed to grimace as the taste of the brew registered. She swallowed quickly. "Uhhhh!" Throwing the bad beer mug to the floor, Buffy hunted for the good beer.
She pulled the tap arm next to the one still spewing beer. When new liquid flowed out, Buffy stuck her head underneath the stream and drank.
It was bad, too.
Coughing and sputtering, Buffy stepped back. Staring at the row of tap handles, she hesitated. Which one would give her what she wanted?
As she stood there examining the taps, something new caught her attention. Buffy's head came up and her eyes grew intent. Beer could wait. Nostrils flaring at the acrid scent in the air, Buffy turned to the badly disheveled and body-strewn barroom. "Fire!" she announced loudly.