Tara’s late for school.

Shit.

You didn’t think about this before Buffy got here. Why, whenever she’s around, does everybody put everything on hold? Sure, you do the same thing, but Angel pretty much forgets his own name when she’s next to him.

Ugh. A red light.

“Faith?” Tara calls out softly. You turn around to face her, while waiting for the light to go green.

“Yeah?”

“I-Is it my fault that we’re late?” she asks.

“Nah, it’s B’s fault. Not yours.” You grin, and pound fists with her.

Fred pulls Tara closer to her chest and bounces her up and down a little bit, earning a small smile from Tara.

Fred and Buffy are the only other people in the car with you and Tara. Angel and Gunn were too busy with the luggage…and probably just didn’t want to revisit kindergarten, because last time, Angel read that storybook to the class.

Heh. That was fucking hilarious. Those kids tried to-

“Faith! Watch the road!” Buffy grabs the wheel.

She’s sitting right next to you. You hope that if the car crashes, she’s the first to be knocked out. She hasn’t stopped complaining about your driving from the second you left the hotel.

“Don’t yell,” Tara clamps her hands over her ears, and Fred whispers that everything is fine, and that no one’s going to fight or anything bad like that.

Fred’s gonna be a great mom someday. You can tell.

For a moment, you’re jealous. She’d be a better mom than you, a better a guardian, better for…better for Tara.

“So, B, it’s nice ta see you again. What’s new? You still with the beefstick?” You ask, really hoping that she says no. You hate that asshole. Sure, he seemed like a nice enough guy when you screwed him, but still, he’s an asshole, because…well, he just is. Most guys are, except for Angel.

Wow, you have way too many issues with the male gender.

“Um, no, Riley and I-well, it didn’t work out,” Buffy gives you that half vulnerable, half “it’s a touchy subject so shut up” look.

You get it. She doesn’t wanna talk about it.

“Okay, we’re here,” You park the Angel-mobile, and grab Tara from the back seat. Her arms wrap tightly around your neck, and you rush into the school, carrying her. Is it just you, or has she grown just the tiniest bit from when she first came to the hotel?

Tara’s teacher greets you at the door of the class room, as you rush through an excuse as to why you were so late in getting her to school. The teacher just smiles, waiting for you to stop talking. Then she says,

“It’s perfectly fine. Tara, why don’t you go find a seat, okay, sweetie?” the teacher smiles. Damn, you always forget her name.

You let go of Tara, and wait for her to give you a kiss on the cheek. When she does, you smirk, and hug her quickly, before she bolts into the class room. She rushes over to the little boy that she’s started to become friends with. He’s a cute, short boy, about Tara’s height, with a baby face, and adorable gray eyes. His name’s Toby. (Heh, Toby and Tara…it sort of works.)

You wonder if Tara swings both ways, but then again, she’s only five.

“Um, Faith, is it?” the teacher smiles. “You’re the step-mother, right? Is Tara’s mother here?” she asks, and frowns when you shake your head.

“Well, I suppose I can tell you anyway,” the woman sighs. “There have been a few issues with Tara lately, none of which you should be concerned with. But basically, she doesn’t speak…ever.”

You stare at her. How the fuck is that not a big problem?

“I’ve heard her speak before, it’s just that she won’t ever do it in class,” the woman sighs. “Is there anything wrong at home? I don’t mean to pry, but even shy kids aren’t mute in school,”

You nod a little, and look over at Tara. She’s drawing a picture with her new friend Toby. He’s smiling (he totally loves her), and she’s smiling back at him. Then he frowns, looking at her picture.

Walking past Tara’s teacher, you get a glimpse of her picture,

It’s of a girl, standing next to a hotel (Angel’s hotel, it looks like), screaming. But that’s not all…

There’s a freaky looking demon next to her, and he’s holding a knife, which is half inside of the girl’s stomach.

Blood is covering the ground where she’s standing.

Two things rush through your mind: #1, Tara is an awesome artist, and the more obvious one, #2, that you should really talk to Angel.

“Well, there’s no doubt in my mind that Tara has been contacted by a demon of some sort,” Wesley murmurs, flipping through the book about Lopus demons.

“Aw, poor baby,” Cordelia glances outside of the room, where Fred is occupying Tara.

“Is this serious?” Buffy asks.

“Nah, B, we’re fucking around with you,” you lash out, unsure of why you’re doing it. Maybe it’s because you resent her, or maybe it’s because you’re way too overprotective of Tara. Either way, you try to tone it down.

“Faith, would you step outside with me?” Angel asks. “Wes, continue with the research,”

Buffy glares at you…

You glare right back.

It’s cold outside. The wind’s blowing, making the leaves rustle on the pavement, and fly past you. It’s one of those night’s that people usually see in cheap horror movies, where the girl shrieks, and a vampire jumps out at her, teeth flashing in the moonlight, ready to sink his teeth into her neck.

Luckily, you’re friends with said-vampire, so you’re okay.

“Faith,” Angel smiles, walking a bit slower so that you can both focus on talking for a little while.

“Look, soul-boy, I’m sorry I was all up in B’s face back there,” you run a hand through your hair and let your head fall back. It feels good to be cold right now. It occurs to you that Angel must not notice, considering he’s always cold. For such a warm hearted guy, it’s weird that he can never feel real warmth.

“That’s not why we’re out here, Faith. I told you a long time ago that I wouldn’t judge you like that. I know that you have your reasons for being angry with Buffy, and I know she has her reasons for being angry with you,” Angel says, and you’re surprised at how relieved he always makes you feel. You’re so scared of disappointing him.

After all, you’ve got no one else…okay, so maybe you’ve got the whole Fang Gang, but in your eyes, losing Angel is like losing everything.

“Then why are we havin’ this little chat?” you ask, nudging him a little. He looks at you.

“Faith, are you okay?” it comes out as a casual question, but you can tell by the way he says it, that he really cares.

“Yeah, I’m holdin’ up,” you grin. “I’ve got the squirt now,”

“Right,” he nods. “I’m glad that she’s made you feel worthwhile again,”

Shit, now you feel like crying. It’s things like that, things that he says, that make you want to break down and tell him everything, because you know he’ll care, and listen for as long as you want him to.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” he asks.

So many things.

“Not right now, but one day. One day I’m gonna tell you everything,” you promise. God, this idiot has no idea how much he means to you, does he?

“We should do this more often,” he smiles, and then sees that your arms have little goosebumps on them. “Here,” he takes off his jacket and drapes it around your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you smile back at him (a real smile), and you slip your hand into his.

“Ooh, dude, your hand is freakin’ freezing!” you laugh.

“Well at least I’ve got your hand to keep mine warm,” he plants a kiss on your forehead, and pulls you in for a hug. If you could freeze time, this would be the prefect moment.

But Buffy is standing in front of the hotel door, watching you, and waiting for Angel to come inside. Like everything else in your life, Buffy has ruined this moment for you.

Why is it that you always feel that she’s the one to blame?