Buffy watched Tara intently. "Well, I guess it depends on who you ask, sweetie." Tara's hand moved from Buffy's shoulder. It slid down Buffy's arm until Tara gripped her hand. "Come on. Let's sit down and talk about the bad beer."
Even though she didn't understand Tara's words, Buffy purred softly from the way Tara's touch made her feel. She happily followed Tara back to the chair. Still clutching Tara's hand, Buffy climbed into the cushy seat – and frowned in displeasure. Tara wasn't sitting down with her. "Tara sit," Buffy ordered.
That earned her a small smile – and this time, Buffy didn't smile back. Tara's smile wasn't real. She could tell because Tara's eyes weren't smiling, too.
Reaching deep into her mind, past the confusion and the lingering anger, Buffy found what she needed. "Please," she said. "Tara please sit." Anxiously, she waited to see if Tara's nice smile would come back.
It did – and Buffy grinned in response.
When Tara also sat down, Buffy beamed. Then she quickly climbed onto Tara's lap. "Thank you." The words came automatically, and Buffy didn't spare any time wondering how she knew what to say. Her attention was all for Tara.
***
Trapped in the chair by Buffy's weight, Tara stared helplessly at Mrs. Summers and Rupert. Her face burned at the bewildered looks she was receiving from the adults in the room. This couldn't be happening.
As if to mock her thought, Buffy's hand combed through Tara's hair. Seconds later, the combing turned into…picking. Strong fingers probed Tara's scalp and lifted and pulled at her hair.
"It is imperative that we find a way to return Buffy to normal," Rupert announced. He grimaced at Tara's glare. "Forgive me for stating the obvious. I am fully aware that you understand the situation. I was merely…emphasizing the urgency."
It might actually have been a good thing Buffy had Tara trapped in the chair. She was giving serious thought to showing Rupert just how urgent she found her current predicament.
"Let's emphasize some possible solutions, Rupert." Mrs. Summers patted his thigh. "Tara, if you can't use a spell to put Buffy to sleep, is there another way to keep her calm?" She shrugged slightly. "I admit I don't understand magic very well, but Willow always seems to know some ritual or other."
And that was why Faith had been willing to ask Tara for help. Keeping that to herself, Tara worked on extricating her head from Buffy's grasp. "I don't think so," she said. "As I said, without knowing the original spell, it would be dangerous to try. Besides," Tara added, grabbing one of Buffy's probing hands and pulling it away from her hair, "I'm not sure we need it."
"Why is that?" Rupert didn't seem impressed with Tara's answer. "Buffy is still a threat, and it is clear we cannot control her should she become agitated."
"Didn't you notice that her speech is getting better?" Tara sagged in relief as she managed to tuck Buffy's right hand into her lap and hold it there. Now she needed to grow a few more arms to get the other one out, too.
She caught the look Rupert gave Mrs. Summers. "You believe the spell is wearing off because Buffy said, 'please?' While it is exceedingly unusual for her, I do believe Buffy is familiar with the word."
For an instant, Tara wondered if she could get Buffy interested in grooming Rupert. Was he always this dense and irritating?
Before she could voice her own frustration, the phone rang.
Buffy jerked at the shrill sound, and Tara went on full alert. "Phone," Buffy informed her. Then, to Tara's surprise, she settled back into Tara's arms – and yawned. "Buffy tired."
That single statement might solve many of their problems. Tara didn't say anything, though. She merely sat very still as Mrs. Summers got up and hurried toward the kitchen. Letting her eyes go unfocused, Tara allowed her inner sight take over. The room darkened at the edges and bright and shifting colors developed around Buffy and Rupert.
Tara ignored Rupert. She didn't want to intrude on his privacy. Buffy…Tara firmly reminded herself that Buffy was a special case at the moment. She looked down at the woman curled trustingly in her lap. The raw power of the Slayer was easier to ignore this time. Tara knew it was there and expected it. Her target was deeper into Buffy's aura. Sinking beneath the outer layer, Tara watched the pulsing golden color mutate and darken.
She relaxed and came out of her semi-trance with a smile. "You are tired, aren't you, Buffy?"
Buffy nodded solemnly. "Tired." Leaning more heavily into Tara, she placed her head on Tara's shoulder. The hand occasionally picking at Tara's hair slid down until Buffy's arm wrapped around Tara's shoulders. "Sleep now?"
"Sleep, sweetie," Tara encouraged. It would give them (her, mostly) a respite from Buffy-watching and a chance to figure out what to do next. Soft, warm breath caressed her neck as Buffy's breathing grew even and deep. Fighting a shiver of response, Tara whispered, "Buffy?"
The body resting against her didn't move. Buffy had already fallen asleep.
"Would you like me to carry her upstairs, my dear?" Rupert rose slowly from the couch and took a step in Tara's direction.
Shaking her head, Tara turned down his offer. "No. Right now Buffy's quiet." She looked at him with a slight smile. "I don't want to risk waking her and changing that. If I'm right about the spell, she needs to sleep." A feeling of unreality flowed through Tara as she continued. "It would be nice to have the real Buffy back."
Rupert returned to his seat. "Indeed. And perhaps she will be able to shed some light on the apparent attack. I simply cannot believe the attack was directed at Buffy."
"It wasn't." Mrs. Summers stood in the entryway. "I just talked to Willow. Apparently there are reports all over town about drunk college students acting like Neanderthals." She walked into the room and glanced at Buffy. "At least that's a step in the right direction."
"Did W-Willow have any more information?" Tara was trying to piece things together. "About the st-students affected by the spell?"
Mrs. Summers dropped onto the couch. "The only concrete information they had so far was that all of the activity – except for the bar where we found Buffy – was on Greek Row. She and Faith are tracking down some leads." At Rupert's disbelieving look, she chuckled. "I'm quoting her exact words. I'm sure, though, that they are safely at the apartment with Willow chained to the computer."
"Let us hope they stay that way," Rupert said dryly. "Faith has an alarming tendency to charge off without warning or any recognizable plan."
Tara didn't pay attention to their comfortable chatter. All of the occurrences had happened in a specific location. "Why Greek Row?" she asked abruptly. "Why target only those specific college students? And if they were the target, how did Buffy and the others at the bar come in contact with the warlock?"
Rupert and Joyce turned in her direction. "Buffy mentioned that there were a lot of Halloween parties coming up," Joyce responded. "She and Faith were going to do a lot of patrolling there for the rest of the week. I think they'll have to spend most of their time outside the frat houses. It's been a few years since my college days; however, Neanderthal frat boys would certainly make for a chaotic Halloween."
It made sense. Still, Tara wondered if they were missing something.
"Bloody hell!" Rupert shot off the couch.
His voice rose above the near-whisper they'd all been previously using, and Buffy jerked in Tara's arms. With a sleepy grumble, she partially opened one eye. When no one moved or spoke, she grunted once and wrapped her arm more tightly around Tara's shoulders. Her eye closed and her breathing evened out again.
The silence lasted for several minutes. Finally, though, Rupert whipped off his glasses and continued in a low, disgusted voice. "After all these years, surely Ethan would not try his mischief here again."
His comment made no sense to Tara. However, Mrs. Summers' eyes went wide. "You don't think he's back? I thought, after the last time…" She broke off and groaned. "Does this mean we're about to face another Mayor with dreams of eating Sunnydale?"
The question broke Rupert's solemn mood. He smirked and replaced his glasses. "I believe those only occur once in a lifetime, Joyce."
Not really wanting to interrupt, Tara nevertheless needed an explanation. "Wh-Who is Ethan?" There were dozens more questions bouncing around in her mind. This seemed the most important, though.
"A bloody nuisance," Rupert answered immediately. Then, with a sigh, he rubbed at the back of his neck. "Forgive me. He is far more than that. Ethan Rayne is a man who has, more than once, used his magic and his love of chaos to disrupt what little order and peace the residents of Sunnydale have. This latest 'attack' follows his usual pattern: a spell placed on an item in such a way to affect a large and seemingly random group of people."
The group of people seemed evident. "How did he p-plan to get to the st-students?" she asked. Then Buffy's last comment came back to her. "The beer? Could he have done something to the beer? You said," Tara directed this to Mrs. Summers, "that Buffy rarely drank, but she seemed r-really interested in another b-beer a few minutes ago."
"As much at the mother in me wants to say there would be no drinking at all the Halloween parties…" Mrs. Summers grimaced. "They would be the perfect target." She stood again. "I'll call Willow back. Maybe there is a way to trace which of the Houses shared a delivery with Jack's."
"And please stress that, when we have the information, Faith should wait for us to join her before visiting the supplier," Rupert pointed out. Once Mrs. Summers was gone, he settled deeper into the couch. "I'm sorry you have been caught up in all this, my dear. However, given the nature of the attack, I am very glad to have your help. Ethan has grown more powerful and more devious than I would ever have imagined. I am deeply concerned about your run in with him earlier."
Tara regarded him steadily. "He h-has to be stopped, sir." That said, she didn't have a clue how to do that. The warlock – Ethan – had been too powerful for her to take on alone, even if she were skilled in offensive magics.
"Indeed. Another question continues to plague me: why? Is this merely an attempt to get petty revenge on myself and Buffy after his last defeat? Or has he allied himself with another?" Rupert absently tugged at the sleeves of his shirt. "While the former is not unlikely, given Ethan's temperament, it is the latter possibility which is truly frightening. The last time he chose a partner, as it were, his actions nearly led to the Apocalypse."