Things were going well. Faith seemed to fit right in with the Scoobies, and her raw skill made the others feel a little more confident in their own. Soon they were playing regularly around Sunnydale and even in towns nearby.

"Mmmm," moaned Willow over way too big a bite of cheeseburger, "Why is food better this late at night? Anyone notice that?"

"Well I don't know about you guys," said Faith, popping a fry in her mouth, "But I always get hungry and horny after a good show."

Willow choked a little on her sandwich, and Xander raised an eyebrow.

"What, am I the only one?" said Faith, "B knows what I'm talking about. Right?"

Their gazes turned to Buffy.

"Um," said Buffy, squirting some ketchup onto the lid of the container from her burger and proceeding to swirl a fry in it. She did not expand on her answer.

The foursome was taking up a booth in the near-empty Doublemeat Palace at some ungodly hour, munching away on greasy junk food and post-show jitters.

"Well, we do it all again tomorrow," said Xander.

Willow grinned, licking some ketchup off her teeth, "It's cool that the Bronze is having us back."

"Well, between Tara, Anya, and that Spike guy," said Xander, "Someone's gotta be pulling strings for us."

"Right," said Buffy, "'cause it'd be crazy if people just thought we, y'know, played good music or something."

"Speaking of our friends on the inside," said Faith, "What's up with you and that Billy Idol look alike competition?"

"You mean my stalker?" said Buffy, "I dunno. He's a creep."

"But you like him, don't you?" said Faith.

"I think the opposite," said Buffy, "If he were to spontaneously burst into a pile of dust, I would be completely indifferent. In fact, I think I might celebrate. Maybe a party. Or a parade! Streamers and floats and stuff."

"Sure," said Faith. She reached over and grabbed one of Buffy's fries.

Buffy pouted, "You're lucky you're such a good guitarist." She flung a fry at Faith's face but her victim caught it in her mouth.

"More than that, B," said Faith, "Ever since you got me doing backup vocals I'm like a double-threat. Triple if you count punching people as a threat."

"I think that one's the most threat," Xander quipped.

Buffy scoffed at Faith, "You just do it 'cause Will won't sing. You're backup-by-default."

"It's because I can't sing," said Willow, "I'm serious. If it's a medical condition then I have it. I can't hit a note even if my life depended on it. Like, if I was forced, by gunpoint or a magic spell or something, to be in a musical, I'd have three lines, max. Maybe I'd join in the big group number but I'll be real quiet about it."

"Understood," said Buffy, "Will's pipes are closed. Caution: do not enter."

"You know I'm good, Buff," said Faith, "Not too good, of course. Everyone knows you're the star of the show."

"Yeah, yeah," Buffy said.

A yawn — "Hmm, I'm sleepy," Willow mumbled, head flopping onto the table, "Too many double-meat nuggets."

"Maybe we get goin'," said Xander, "I've got work in the morning, and Will's got class."

"I've got class?" said Willow, "Thanks Xander. I'm soooo classy."

"Wills, you're classy as all heck but that's not what I meant," said Xander, "Allons-oui, ladies."

"It's allons- y , Xander," said Willow, "We were in French class together in high school, you should know that."

"The only French I remember is Mrs. French, that hot substitute teacher. Remember?"

"Didn't she get fired for boinking that kid Blayne?" said Willow.

"Lucky bastard," Xander muttered.

"Xander," Buffy said, "You have a hot, age-appropriate girlfriend."

"Yeah, but I didn't in high school," said Xander.

"Yes you did," Willow said, "Cordelia Chase ring any bells?" She turned to Faith and explained, "She was the most popular kid in school," Willow said, "And my mortal enemy, the skanky hoe."

"Me-ow," said Buffy.

"Thanks," Willow said, "I've never gotten a 'meow' before." She frowned, "That wasn't very punk rock feminist of me, was it? I take it back. Take back the meow."

"Eh, blame it on the nuggets and the ungodly hour," Buffy said, standing. "Now let's get out of here before that weird old lady shows up. I've got this theory that she eats people and then stuffs their remains in the meat grinder."

Xander and Willow choked on their burgers again.


"I wanna be invisible / hide in the day like they hide in the night / I wanna be inexplicable / out of mind and out of sight!" Buffy sang. Beads of sweat dripped down her face, her lipstick smearing on the microphone as she moved a little too close to it in her punk rock fervor.

The song finished, and Buffy bent down, grasping desperately for her bottle of water and taking a big swig. Faith, meanwhile, was taking a swig of beer, and Willow was re-tuning her guitar.

"That song's about this girl we knew in high school," said Buffy, freshly hydrated, "This next one's called 'Go Fish'."

"Which is about some guys we knew in high school," Willow said into Faith's mic.

Xander counted them off, and Willow frantically switched off her tuner and joined in the song, grateful that Faith's skillful lead guitar would conceal her hectic errors.

Buffy started singing again—but they were losing the crowd. She could see patrons chatting over their set, opting to step outside for a smoke or hit on poor Tara instead of moshing or dancing or, hell, even nodding their heads. Even Spike was nowhere to be seen, probably smoking outside. Maybe Buffy and the band had gotten cocky, or maybe they were really never that good to begin with.

Nah, that was ridiculous. She would just have to give it her all and show these losers what The Scoobies were about.

Faith finished her solo and Buffy took a deep breath to belt out the chorus—

—but she heard the words blast through her monitor a fraction of a second before they could make it past her throat. She blinked, confused, before she recognized the alto rasp and turned to see Faith singing instead. The lead guitarist let her instrument hang by its strap and then grabbed her mic stand and brought it up front, nudging Buffy aside. Suddenly the audience seemed captivated—maybe it was Faith's sultry singing voice, or maybe it was the way that at some point she'd pulled off her overshirt to reveal a snug wife-beater, or the way her leather-clad legs looked in those combat boots.

Buffy glared at the back of Faith's head, and then glanced at Willow, who shrugged but kept playing.

Faith grabbed her guitar again and put on a show, filling the spotlight with dance moves and fancy licks. She winked at the audience and Buffy could have sworn some dude fainted. As the song reached its climax, Faith leapt from the stage into the crowd, kicking over Buffy's water in the process, which spilled on her amp. The crowd was going wild.


"Faith," huffed Buffy, stuffing gear into her guitar case like doing so was the only thing stopping her from strangling her bandmate with a cable, "What the heck was that?"

"Just tryin' to add some pizzazz," said Faith, "They liked it. Didn't they?"

"'Pizzazz'?" said Buffy, "I've got pizzazz. I bleed pizzazz."

"I dunno, B," said Faith, "I notice you kinda… Well, you just kinda stand there and play the music. You gotta give the people what they want."

"What they want is good music. Which we gave them plenty of."

"What they want is a show," said Faith. "As chicks with guitars, we've got a tougher job to do than the guys."

There was a brief staredown, and Xander secretly hoped for some girl-on-girl combat as he watched the altercation from behind his half-deconstructed drums. Then he caught Anya's glare from behind the mixer and averted his gaze to the ceiling.

"Whatever," said Buffy finally, "Let's just pack up."


Willow was already off the stage, equipment stowed safely in their vehicle almost before the lights went down. Now she was at the bar, gushing to Tara, "Anyway," Willow called over the rowdy ambience, "So then, the other night, Buffy told this tall guy who was making a ruckus to, uh, 'fuck off', and he did . And it was great 'cause then the short people and the girls could see. Crazy how people listen to you when you're up on stage!"

"That's g-great," said Tara, "You guys were great tonight."

"Thanks," said Willow, "I mean… that Faith thing was weird." She lowered her voice, "Faith wasn't supposed to sing that one chorus. She just kinda took over. Not really cool of her, right?"

"Hi F-Faith!" said Tara very loudly, and Willow whipped around with a blush.

"Hi Faith!" Willow said.

"Hey. Blondie, can I get a beer?"

"Sure," said Tara, "Um. What kind?"

"The cheap kind," said Faith. She thought for a moment, "Actually, y'know what? Gimme some of that $8 stuff and put it on my tab. 'Summers'."

Tara rolled her eyes, "I'm n-not falling for that."

"Worth a shot." Faith tossed a few bucks on the bar, "The cheap kind. And the rest is for you."

Tara bowed her head a little in a shy thank-you and went to get it.

Willow waited somewhat anxiously for Tara to return. She could feel the tension between Faith and Buffy all the way from the bar, and she did not want to be caught in the middle of it.

But maybe she was hoping for too much. "B's overreacting," said Faith, leaning on the bar next to Willow, "Don't you think?"

"Overreacting?" Willow bluffed, "About what, when, how? I mean, who am I to judge the amount of reacting someone does? Hey, to re-act, don't you have to act first? Is a reaction to a reaction a re-re-action?"

"I'm just sayin'," said Faith, "B was all upset that I took that song. But we killed, so I don't see what the big deal is. Girl's got a wooden stake up her butt."

"A wooden stake? That was the first long, hard object you could think of? Not, like, a drumstick, or a guitar neck? Or like… a stick. As the saying goes."

Faith shrugged, "I'm a musician. Never said I was a poet. Anyway, tell me you don't think B takes this frontman thing a little too seriously. She could do to let the reins loose once 'n a while. Thinks she's the damn Chosen One."

Willow was sweating. She was bound to Buffy through best-friendship and unquestionable loyalty—but she also didn't like to lie, and was damn terrible at it. Faith did have a point, that Buffy could fall too heavily into the leadership thing and sometimes forgot that the band was a group effort. Still, that didn't excuse Faith's spontaneous reworking of their song.

Willow realized that she was staring for a while as she rationalized all of this in her head. She considered voicing these thoughts out loud, but all that came out was: "Uh…"

She glanced around the bar for some saving grace. Tara was futzing with the tap, which looked like it wasn't working as it should, and Buffy and Xander were nowhere to be seen. But there was Amy, hovering in the back.

"Oh!" said Willow, "Uh, I'll be right back. Tara!" she called, "I'll be right back!"

She scurried off just as the bartender in question returned with Faith's beer.

"Where'd Willow go?" Tara asked.

"Probably had to piss," said Faith.


Buffy heaved her amp out to their car, still dripping with the water Faith had spilled on it.

"Someone's grumpy," said Spike.

"Yeah well," said Buffy, "Song kinda got hijacked, dunno if you noticed."

"I thought that didn't sound like your voice," Spike said, "Sorry I couldn't watch, luv. Had to stay out here."

"Couldn't put down the cigarette for twenty minutes?"

"Not that. Tonight I'm getting paid." He had a proud little smirk on his face, "Yep, the usual bouncer died under mysterious circumstances. So Snyder asked me to do it."

"I guess since you're always lurking out here anyway. Not sure I'd trust you though. I think you'd be the kinda guy I'd be trying to bounce out."

"Normally Snyder'd think the same," said Spike, "But the straits were dire and it's hard for even Snyder to say no to my kitten at the bar. She made my case."

"Your kitten? Are you and Tara together?"

Spike laughed so loudly, so genuinely, that he dropped his cool guy facade for a moment, "Um. No, luv. I'm not her type."

Buffy wasn't really sure what that meant, or why her questions was so funny.

"And to be honest," said Spike, "She isn't mine."

"Yeah," said Buffy, "What's your type?"

"Well—"

A new voice rang through the night air— "Blondie Bear!"—and out came Harmony Kendall, who Buffy remembered as Sunnydale High's local ditz. She clung to Spike's arm like a lifeline.

"Uh," said Spike, "This is my—"

"Groupie?" laughed Buffy.

"My new bird," said Spike, "Harm."

"Yeah, I know," said Buffy, "We go way back. How's it going, Harmony?"

"My ears hurt," Harmony said, "Have you ever thought about playing quieter?"

Buffy raised an eyebrow at Spike.

"I told you, Harm," said Spike, something like a blush on his pale cheeks, "Punk rock is supposed to be loud."

"Isn't it cool that my boyfriend's in a band?" said Harmony, "Willow thinks she's all that 'cause's dating that Dingoes guy. It's not that hard."

"Willow and Oz broke up," said Buffy, "Oz left town. Didn't you notice Dingoes got a new guitarist?"

"Oh, I don't really listen to rock music," said Harmony, "Except for Spikey here!"

Buffy did everything in her power not to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it all, "Alright, Spikey," she said, "I'll just leave you guys to it, then. Good for you on the bouncer gig. I feel safe knowing Blondie Bear is looking out for us."


Faith and Tara at the bar, awkward, like if they tried to speak to each other it would be in different languages. Faith sipped at her beer and Tara pretended to be busy, wiping the counter.

"So what," said Faith finally, "You turn her? Saw her drivin' stick and showed her what an automatic can do?"

"W-w-w-what?" said Tara.

"Come on," said Faith, "You're smokin', she's cute. It's sweet. But I know she was into dudes, she was talking about her ex. Oh she loved that guy. You know he gave her that strat?"

"W-w-w-w—"

"I'm just saying," said Faith, "Kudos. You clearly know what you got and you know how to use it."

"I-i-it's not l-l-like that," said Tara, "W-we're friends, s-she doesn't like—"

And then the girl in question came skipping back to the bar, grinning, "I'm back!" Her smile faltered, "Faith's still here! That's great!"

"You two have fun," said Faith, taking her beer. She threw an arm around Willow, "You give her whatever she needs, 'k Red?"

Willow was glad that they weren't talking about the Buffy vs Faith drama anymore, but she was a little confused by Faith's frankly insane behavior, and that weird little look in her eye as the singer-guitarist walked away.

Willow shrugged and hopped up on a barstool, leaning close to Tara, "You okay? You look a little wigged."

"I'm fine," said Tara, "She's… a lot."

"A lot is right," said Willow, "Anyways, you wanna come over and make some zines tomorrow? I got glue and paper and magazines to cut up, my room's like a kindergarten with the crafts. And then we can photocopy them at the studio. And guess what else?" She leaned up onto the bar and gestured for Tara to lean close to her.

"What?"

"I got those purple glue sticks."

They both started giggling, almost nose-to-nose. Tara almost forgot she was at work, the joy she felt. Until—

"Hey, Tits!" called some big bad young metal guy down the bar. Tara snapped out of her little heaven and bolted upright, away from Willow. She flew over to him, hands shaking a little as she cleared some glasses.

"Sorry," the guy said, but it was sarcastic, "I pull you away from your girlfriend?"

"N-no," said Tara, "W-w-w-what can I get y-y-you?"

"W-w-w-w-w-wah?" laughed the guy, "Such a shame, lesbo fuckin' tease."

"I-I'm not—"

"I've seen you going around with chicks," the guy said, "I think you just need a real man to show you what you're missing, dyke."

Willow watched with wide eyes, frozen, until she managed a soft, "You can't talk to her like that."

The man turned around to face her, "Yeah? What are you gonna do about it, bitch?"

Willow huffed and stayed silent, eyeing Tara whose face seemed to say leave it alone .

One of the guy's more sober pals seemed to have the same idea, "Bro, just leave it, man."

So the man turned around back to his group, but he couldn't help but to mutter: "Fuckin' fags."

Rage suddenly burning through her veins, Willow acted before she could stop herself: She picked up her near-empty glass and smashed it against the man's upper back (she was aiming for his head, but oh well).

If it hurt him, he didn't show it. He spun around and socked Willow right in the face, the guitarist falling from her stool and stumbling to the floor. "What the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?" the man shouted. He reached for his back and saw blood on his hand, "Fucking psycho slut!"

He moved towards Willow, but Buffy was there, and she took him by the shoulder and introduced his face to her fist. Spike heard the commotion and was at the scene a moment later, taking the guy from Buffy as the bassist went to help Willow.

"Fuckin' arsehole," said Spike, "What kinda dolt hits a girl at a bar? You get the hell outta here before I make you wish I'd let you leave." The guy resisted, futile, as Spike dragged him by the coat and threw him out the door like a bag of trash. He turned to the man's bystanding friends, who all promptly scattered.

"Oh my god, Will," said Buffy, moving Willow's hand away from her face so she could examine her bleeding nose, "What happened? Are you okay?"

"I coulda taken care of it myself," Willow muttered.

Buffy helped Willow stand up and lean against the bar. Tara handed her a wad of napkins for the nosebleed.

"W-w-w-Will," said Tara, "You d-d-didn't have t-t-to do that."

"Did you hear what he said to you?" said Willow, "Who could say something like that?"

"It's okay," Tara said, "I get it a lot."

"You get that a lot?" Willow said, "Why would you—" She stopped herself in sudden realization. Tara winced at the blood that coated Willow's teeth as her mouth hung open.

"Jesus christ, Will," said Buffy, "What are you doing getting in fights? You're gonna get yourself killed."

Willow just sort of stared at her, letting blood pool in her mouth and drip down her chin.

"Nuh-uh, no way," said Anya, marching over, "You are not bleeding all over my floor again. Buffy, take her home. And Willow? Cool. The fuck. Off."

"Here," said Tara, handing Willow a glass of water, "C-clean your mouth."

Willow took a gulp, dazed. She swirled it around a bit in her mouth and then spit her blood back into the cup and left it on the bar.

Buffy took Willow by the shoulder, but Willow shook her off. "Come on," Buffy said, "Anya's right. I don't know what's going on with you, but I'm taking you home."

The girls walked away just as Spike returned with a sigh. "Bloody neanderthals, the lot of them," he said, "If Red's goin' around starting fights, someone must've made a wish-gone-wrong and I'm bizarro-land."

There was an unattended glass on the bar, full of some pinkish drink. He grinned, sure that Tara had made it for him as a thank-you, "Aw, thanks luv."

He picked it up, and Tara only turned around to see him as it approached his lips, "Spike, that's—!"

He took a swig and grimaced, "That's disgusting. Stick to the basics, kitten."

He put the glass back on the bar, and Tara decided not to let Spike know that he'd just ingested a fresh glass of human blood.