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The rally was packed. Buffy frowned, looking around the room, clearly unhappy with her mother's decision to take the children's killing public. Willow understood both sides, or at least she thought she did. Buffy was used to getting things done on her own; her mother was probably tired of standing by and watching, unable to help or to make things different for her daughter. She admired them both—envied them, really—for the way they tried to protect one another.

And Mrs. Summers was clearly feeling empowered by stepping forward and trying to do something; she was all over the room, talking to everyone. Willow hadn't known Buffy's mom knew that many people. She always seemed so … out of the way, really. Not unlike her own mother. She suppressed a sigh, looking around the room, wishing her mother ever cared this much about anything going on in her life.

"This is great," Buffy said. "Maybe we could all go patrolling together later."

"Least your mom's making an effort." Willow frowned. "My mom's probably—" And then she saw the last thing she had expected: her mom, making her way through the crowd in Willow's direction. "Standing right in front of me, right this second," she finished in surprise. "Mom?"

"Willow," her mother said, looking her up and down as if she wasn't quite sure she was addressing the right person. "I didn't know you were going to be here." She looked at Buffy. "Oh, hi, Bunny."

"Hi." They had given up correcting Willow's mom a long time ago.

"What—what are you doing here?" Willow asked. It was hardly her mom's kind of scene. Not enough people talking abstractedly about things no one else understood.

"Oh, well, I read about it in the paper, and what with your dad out of town, I—" She stopped, staring at Willow as though there was a bug crawling on her shoulder. "Willow, you cut off your hair!"

Looking away to hide the rolling of her eyes that she couldn't quite hold back, Willow put a hand up to the offending short cut, tucking a piece nervously behind her ears.

"That's a new look," her mom finished.

"Yeah, it's just a sudden whim I had. In August."

"I like it." Her mom turned with a smile, holding her hand out to shake as Buffy's mom approached. "Hello, Joyce."

"Sheila, I'm glad you could come."

Willow bit back a sarcastic remark. So her mom could remember Buffy's mother's name, but not Buffy's? Her greeting had been practically effusive, for her, while a few minutes spent in Willow's presence seemed almost painfully awkward for her. Not for the first time, she wondered if Buffy's mom would mind if Willow just moved in with them. Her mom certainly wouldn't notice if she left.

Giles came up from the other side. Everyone was here, it seemed. "There you are," Giles said. "I almost couldn't find you in this crush." He saw Buffy's mom, nodding at her awkwardly. "Oh. Uh, Mrs. … uh … Joyce. This is, uh, quite a turnout you have here."

"Well, it's not just me, but thank you." Buffy's mom seemed equally awkward. "Well, it's, uh, it's been a while."

"Right. Not since, um …"

Buffy and Willow exchanged glances. 'Not since we were magically reduced to teenagers and made out' seemed to be the subtext there. Willow wondered if they had done more than made out, but that was the story Buffy had stuck to, and she wasn't really sure she wanted to know more. Mr. Giles was really too cool for Buffy's mom, anyway.

"Not since—not for a while," Giles finished lamely.

"There's a rumor going around, Mr. Giles," Willow's mom said.

"Rumor, about us?" Giles asked, looking alarmed. He stammered a bit, realizing his error, while Buffy looked like she wanted to sink into the floor, Mrs. Summers shot him an outraged look, and Willow tried to bite back a snicker. "What?"

Willow's mom, oblivious to all the subtext, said, "About witches. That people calling themselves witches are responsible for this brutal crime."

Suddenly, the conversation was a lot less funny. Willow wasn't naïve; she knew witchcraft scared people. It should, frankly. It wasn't for just everyone. But … she could never hurt anyone. Neither could Michael. Or Amy. … Well, probably not Amy, anyway, even if there had been that horrible Valentine's Day error that had been so embarrassing for everyone.

"Indeed," Giles said. "How strange."

He glanced at Willow, and she couldn't help a nervous—hysterical, really—giggle. "Yes, strange! Witches, pfft."

Her mother, as usual, seemed unaware of what anyone else was thinking. She frowned, working her way through it like it was some kind of new theory. "Well, actually, not that strange. I recently coauthored a paper about the rise of mysticism among adolescents."

She had? Willow had had no idea. For the first time, she wondered if her mother resented Willow's lack of interest in her life as much as Willow did the reverse. Maybe she'd have to ask her mother some questions the next time they happened to be in the same room together.

Her mother was still talking. "And I was shocked at the statistical …" She was interrupted by the whine of a microphone, and looked up as though irritated at being interrupted. "Oh, are we starting?"

The Mayor took his place at the microphone. "Hello, everybody."

Mrs. Summers made her way around the little group, stopping to whisper to Buffy, "He'll do something about this, you'll see."

Putting his hands in his pockets, the Mayor began, "Um … I want to thank you all for coming, in the aftermath of such a tragic crime. Seeing you all here proves what a caring community Sunnydale is. Now, sure, we've had our share of misfortunes. But we're a good town, with good people, and I know that none of us will rest easy until this horrible murder is solved." He reached down for the placard with the children's faces on it that everyone was holding. "With that in mind, I make these words my pledge to you: Never again." He put the placard away. "Now, I ask you give your attention to the woman who brought us all here tonight, Joyce Summers."

Buffy's mom made her way through the crowd, taking her place at the podium. Willow could feel the tension in Buffy, her friend's worry about what her mom might say.

"Thank you," Mrs. Summers whispered into the microphone. She hesitated, looking around the room, seeming uncertain as to what to say. At last she seemed to make a decision, and her voice grew stronger as she said, "Mr. Mayor, you're dead wrong. This is not a good town. How many of us have, have lost someone who—who just disappeared? Or—or got skinned? Or suffered neck rupture? And how many of us have been too afraid to speak out? I—I was supposed to lead us in a moment of silence, but … silence is this town's disease. For too long, we've been plagued by unnatural evils. This isn't our town anymore, it belongs to the monsters and the witches and the Slayers."

Willow looked anxiously at Buffy, who was standing stunned, as though her mother had physically struck her. And in a way, she had, by publicly denouncing Buffy as one of the things making Sunnydale a bad town.

Mrs. Summers went on, "I say it's time for the grown-ups to take Sunnydale back. I say we start by finding the people who did this and making them pay."

There was applause and support all around them, even Willow's own mother applauding. Of course, Willow's mom didn't know what Buffy's mom did, that there were already people out there whose job it was to find the people who did things like this and make them pay.

She looked at Buffy. "You okay?"

"No. What is she thinking?"

Willow shrugged. "That she wants to be able to make things right?"

"I know, but …" Buffy shook her head. "I need to get out of here. I need to do my job."

She made her way through the crowd. Willow turned to look for her mom, but she was gone already, as if she had never been there. She looked instead at Giles. "Need some help in the library?"