Thanks goes out to Kelly for her kind help with the medical terminology and procedure...even if I ended up not using most of what she gave me. It tremendously in visualizing things as I wrote.

***

There was blood everywhere. Every place Willow looked, every place she laid her hand, there was blood. Blood on the sidewalk, blood on her shirt, blood on Buffy, blood on…

Oh, god. Oh, god. Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.

"Tara!" Willow literally crawled across the sidewalk toward her lover. There was pain throbbing in the side of her head and she could feel the stickiness dripping down, but she ignored it. Somewhere in the distance she could hear people yelling and running, but all she could see was Tara laying there, her top soaked with blood. "Tara!"

Her eyes fluttered open, the light in there weak. "Willow…?" The words were barely audible and Willow could see the pain the effort caused.

"Don't speak. Don't do anything. We'll get help. It'll be okay…"

Oh, god.

***

Inside the shop, the first shot sounded like a car backfiring. Giles didn't even pause in his argument with Mrs. Rosenberg and Spike wondered if Buffy had managed to catch Willow before she'd hightailed it down the street. He glanced toward the front just as the second, third and fourth shots sounded.

Oh, god.

"Buffy!" He was off his stool and running toward the door, paying no heed to the fact sun was still shining. All he could see was the image of her falling. Not again...

She was lying on the sidewalk, eyes closed, her shoulder seeping red. So much blood...he could smell it all around, the scent so powerful it threatened to overwhelm him. Then there was pain and he realized he'd stepped into the sunlight without thinking. Survival instinct tore him from her side, sent him moving for the shadows. "Giles!"

He didn't need to call, because the watcher was already there, kneeling on the sidewalk, ignoring the blood that soaked into his pants. "I need towels, clothes, anything I can use to help stop the bleeding. Someone call 911."

Towels. That he could do, heading for the training room as quick as he could, grabbing the small supply they kept handy. He passed Xander as he returned, only half noticing the boy was grabbing the first aid kit. Back on the sidewalk, giving the towels to Giles and retreating back into the safety of the store. Anya's voice on the phone, calling the paramedics. Xander heading out to help Giles. Mrs. Rosenberg hovering over her daughter, keening, going on about Willow and rising violence among youths.

Willow shoving her mother away, blood running down the side of her face but still moving, eyes blazing threateningly as she turned back to Tara.

Tara.

Oh, god.

***

"Hang on, baby. Help is coming." Willow tried to believe the words she spoke, clinging tight to Tara's hand. Help had to be coming, didn't it?

Giles was by her side suddenly, pressing a towel into her hand. "Press it against the wound," he told her. "We need to stop the bleeding if we can. Paramedics should be on the way."

She did as she was told, pressing the cloth to Tara's chest. It was hard and the first time her breath rasped, it was all Willow could do to keep from pulling away, terrified she might be hurting her.

Other things were happening, Xander moving, Giles yelling at her mother to be helpful or get the hell out of the way, but none of that mattered. All she could focus on was Tara and the painful way her chest moved up and down, how the breaths came in gasps. Willow could feel the cloth grow wet between her fingers, blood starting to seep through. Was she not holding it tight enough or was it in the wrong place? She didn't have the manual, didn't know what to consult to tell her the proper procedure.

"You're hurt."

She stared at Giles, not comprehending. "No, Tara's hurt. They're coming? We're going to save her?"

Oh, god, she knew that look. The one that said the end of the world was coming but Giles was going to be all british-y and stiff-upper lip about it. "Of course we're going to save her," he said, but she could see he thought otherwise in his eyes. "But you're hurt, too. You're bleeding."

That wasn't important. Didn't he realize that? In the distance, sirens were wailing. "Hang on, Tara. Don't leave me."

***

Anya was peering at his hands. "You've burned yourself."

"It's not important." Spike couldn't tear his eyes from the scene on the sidewalk. Xander was kneeling by Buffy, cloth pressed to her shoulder. Her eyes began to flutter open, breath coming in a sudden gasp.

"Hold still," Xander insisted. "The ambulance is on its way."

"Willow...Tara...where...?" Her voice wasn't weak, but it was fuzzy, as if she was coming out of a haze.

"They're here. What happened?"

"Warren...with a gun...stupid...never works." She closed her eyes again, squeezing them shut against some unknown pain. Xander looked up and for once he and Spike were in perfect accord. Warren was going to pay for what he'd done.

The ambulance arrived, then a second. Police cars were arriving as well; clearly Anya's call had triggered an alert. Probably a good thing because a crowd had begun to gather on the sidewalks, contributing nothing but gawking. One woman, though, was beside Giles, helping him with Tara. Spike knew her; they'd met at that damn mixer at the Bronze...Jean, that was it.

The paramedics moved in and Giles and Jean stepped back to let them work. Willow didn't budge, still crying and pressing her cloth to the chest wound even as the blood seeped through her fingers. Giles reached down and tried to pull her gently away, but she resisted, babbling something about not wanting to leave Tara. Grim-faced, Giles grew rougher, physically dragging her out of the paramedics' way. Instantly, one tried to attend to her, see to the cause of the bleeding on the side of her head.

It was chaos and confusion, and all Spike could do was watch, helpless.

***

She felt so helpless. They were huddled around Tara and all she could do was watch. There was someone poking at her face, blocking her view. Willow pushed at him, trying to see, but he didn't move. "I need to look at your head, miss."

"Tara...I need to see her."

The man looked back over her shoulder and seemed to understand because he did his best to step out of her line of sight. It still wasn't a good view, and what she could see did little to calm her. There was no way to know what was really happening without being able to speak to her, find out where it hurt.

But she could speak with her. It wasn't difficult; all she had to do was reach out with her mind.

Willow didn't stop to consider the implications. She'd worry about falling off the wagon later and besides, this was one of those special emergency situations, wasn't it? This was life or death and it was Tara's life that hung in the balance.

As if she'd never stopped doing it, Willow reached out with her mind to find Tara's familiar touch. The light was flickering but still there to guide her home. Tara?

Hurts... the whisper came back and on the sidewalk Tara's body moved, touching off another round of activity by the paramedics. Willow sent what comfort she could back down the link, hoping she sent strength as well, picturing herself wrapping one of Tara's quilts about her love, keeping her safe.

She closed her eyes to focus the image, not quite sure of herself after several months of abstaining. The power flowed freely, though, and she felt confident enough to open her eyes when the paramedic spoke to her. "You were just grazed. Lot of bleeding, but nothing serious. You should be checked out, but it's just a precaution."

The ones huddled around Tara were dealing with bags and tubes and their words echoed in her head, as if she heard them both with her ears and though the link. "Got that IV in?" "Oxygen steady." "I think she's stable." "Can we move her?"

A stretcher appeared and Tara was carefully lifted onto it, the IV drip held aloft to keep it flowing. As they loaded her into the ambulance, Willow stepped forward to follow. She didn't wait for permission, just moved, her mind keeping Tara wrapped tightly in her quilt.

As long as she could do that, it'd be okay.

***

"I'm going to be okay," Spike could hear Buffy saying. She was struggling to sit up as the paramedics were loading Tara into the ambulance. The stench of blood was still strong, but he knew most of it was Tara's, not Buffy's.

"You've got a gunshot wound in your shoulder, miss." The paramedic looked a bit frustrated. "We need to get you to the hospital."

"Tara? Willow?" Buffy tried to turn her head to look behind her, but winced and stopped. "Are they okay?"

"They're leaving now. Just relax. We're going to take you in a minute."

She might protest, but Spike could see Buffy was far from fine. Even if she wasn't in any immediate danger, the blood loss from the wound must have weakened her. The only thing keeping her going was her epic stubbornness, but even that couldn't hold out forever. Giles knelt by her, his voice pitched so low all Spike could hear was a murmur but she nodded before letting her head fall back. Whatever he'd said, it'd convinced her to lie quiet while they prepared to take her away.

Giles stood and started for the shop door, but he was stopped by a policeman intent upon questions. Even as Spike strained to hear what they were saying, Jean appeared, carrying the shop's first aid kit. "How did you burn yourself?" she asked as he reached out to take it from her.

Spike looked down at his hand and grimaced. He hadn't really paid attention when she'd mentioned it, his attention focused on Buffy. He'd had worse, but what could he tell Jean?

"Sun allergy," Anya said quickly. "He goes out in the sun and reacts almost immediately. Rare medical condition."

Jean looked a bit skeptical and Spike wondered if she'd lived in Sunnydale long enough to discover the things that went bump in the night. She didn't answer but shook her head and stepped into the shop. "Why don't you let me put some ointment on that?"

Before he could tell her he would be fine, Giles approached, followed by the policeman. "I'm going in the ambulance with Buffy," he said in a low voice. "Officer Chakiris would like ask you some questions about the shooting."

"And Tara?" There was no use saying he wanted to ride along; the sun was still too high.

The frown on Giles' face told the whole story. "Bad. Willow went with her. I believe Mrs. Rosenberg followed. Xander's going in his own car." A shout and Giles turned. "I have to go. Follow when you can."

There was nothing left for Spike to do, but watch as the ambulance pulled away. The crowd was beginning to disperse, though several policemen were busy on the sidewalk. "I have just a few questions, Mr..." the officer consulted his notepad, "Ashbury-Smith."

"Smythe," Spike corrected almost automatically. "Come inside. I need to get my hand taken care of."

Jean had the ointment out as they joined her at the table. It felt weird to have someone who didn't know him be worried about him. Even weirder to realize she didn't know him as Spike, didn't know he was a vampire, just thought he was part of the Sunnydale business community and that was reason enough for her to help him.

"Did you see the shooting?" Chakiris asked, opting to stand.

"No. That is, I heard the shots and saw them fall, but I didn't actually see who did it."

The policeman nodded, making notes. "Any suspicions? Do you know of anyone who might wish the ladies harm?"

Spike didn't hesitate. "Warren Meers."

***

The emergency room was a madhouse. The trauma team had been called, a mass of people descending on the stretcher as it came off the ambulance. Once again, Willow found herself pulled out of the way, watching helplessly as Tara was whisked behind swinging doors. The bond was still there and through it she could hear the echoes of the doctors and nurses as they began their work. "...the OR's ready..." "...get her started on Type O and get me a CBC and type..." "...where's that neurosurgeon?..."

A woman took Willow by the arm. "I know it might not seem important, but we have to fill out some paperwork. We need to have someone give authorization for treatment."

"I can," Willow said, wrapping the quilt tighter around that spark that was Tara as she was led to a desk. "We...I...we're domestic partners." Thank goodness Giles had insisted on the paperwork being signed when Buffy was gone. He'd said it was a precautionary measure...in case.

There were seemingly endless questions, all of which Willow did her best to answer. Yes, she thought Tara had insurance through the university, but she didn't have the information. No, she didn't have Tara's full medical history.

The ambulance with Buffy arrived, but her appearance provoked a far milder reaction, the wound far less serious. Giles joined Willow at the desk, laying a hand on her shoulder in support. After only a second, though, he pulled his hand away and looked down at her quizzically. Willow avoided her gaze. She didn't have time for this argument. The power wasn't flowing as easily as she remembered, making the effort of maintaining the bond with Tara harder. She could listen to Giles tell her she was wrong for doing it later.

Giles didn't remain at her side, his attention taken up by another woman with a set of questions similar to what Willow had been asked. Her own inquisition was coming to an end and Willow wondered where she could find a quiet place to sit and wait. Something was happening with Tara and she couldn't quite tell what it was. Maybe they were getting ready to operate.

The moment she stepped into the waiting room, she knew she wasn't going to have an opportunity for peace and quiet. "Willow? What did the doctor say?"

Even the fact that her mother sounded genuinely concerned did little to reduce the annoyance Willow felt. "I'm fine, mother. I just want to be alone."

"Are you sure? Your head...?"

"...she's losing blood as fast as we can get it in..." "...blood pressure 90 over 70 and dropping..."

"I'm fine!" Willow snapped, pulling back from her mother's outstretched hand. "I just want some peace and quiet."

"I'm worried. It's not safe with those people. I mean, why were they being shot at?"

"Willow?" As soon as he entered, Xander hurried over to wrap her in a bear hug. "You're okay. Thank god."

She could draw some comfort from his touch and energy as well, but more and more of her attention was being pulled toward the link. The light had flickered slightly, her image of Tara grimacing with pain. "Tara's in surgery," she whispered into his chest. "I just want someplace quiet where I can wait."

He squeezed her and led her over to a corner. "Why don't you sit here? I'll ask if there's someplace else we should be waiting."

Willow nodded, grateful he was here. Xander always understood, always was there to help her. She could count on Xander. No sooner had he stepped away, though, and her mother was right there. "Willow, we need to talk."

"No." Willow squeezed her eyes shut, fists pressed against her temples. "I don't want to talk to you."

"...there. Retract that.." "...blood pressure still dropping..."

In her mind, Tara moaned, shifting restlessly within the circle of Willow's arms. Willow did her best to hold her close, but it was hard...she could feel her slipping away.

"You can't keep avoiding me. I'm serious about this. Perhaps it's my fault for not noticing, but this situation has gotten out of hand. This is no longer about your grades. Being around these people is dangerous."

"...the lung's collapsed..." "...blood pressure still dropping..." "...I was afraid of that..."

"I don't want to talk right now!" Willow could feel her throat tighten as her voice rose and her head started to pound with the effort. It was harder and harder to hold on and her mother didn't realize how serious things were, that she had to keep her focus on Tara, keep Tara going.

"You never want to talk. You've shut us out of your life and it's time you let us back in."

"I shut you out?" Despite herself, Willow couldn't help responding. "What about not noticing the changes in my life? I'm not talking recently...I'm talking forever, always, only hearing what you want to hear."

For the first time that she could remember, her mother looked disturbed, taking a step back. "Willow, what's happened to your eyes?"

She knew exactly what had happened, what her mother must see. "You wouldn't understand."

"...blood pressure dropping...we're losing her..."

"Drugs. That must be it. How did this happen? It was that Bunny Summers, wasn't it?"

She felt like she was being torn in two. Tara was slipping from her grasp, yet her mother was demanding her attention, just as she always did, no thought that Willow might have anything important of her own, only what her parents might deem appropriate. It was hard to keep the anger in check, not let it distract her from what was really important. Focus. Hold Tara. Hold on, baby.

"...she's flat lining..."

Tara turned her head to look at Willow in that way that made her feel as if she was the whole world. "I love you..." she whispered and was gone.

"Willow Leah Rosenberg, you will answer me."

There was suddenly a terrible void within her, a place where Tara wasn't...and there was this yapping noise on the edge of her mind, a demanding voice she suddenly couldn't stand. "Answer you?" The words came tumbling out, the anger now refusing to be contained. "You come in here, refuse to listen when I ask you to let me be and now you insist I answer you? Why? Because you've suddenly decided little Willow is an addict and some 'tough love' has to be administered? That's the easy answer, isn't it? Willow's grades are down; she must be addicted to drugs. Willow's getting too powerful; she must be addicted to magic. You say I'm addicted and it means you can get away without bothering to find out what's really wrong."

The energy was crackling up and down her arms, searching for an outlet. Willow tried to focus it, tried to reach out to capture Tara again, but she couldn't reach her. Taking a deep breath, she began to chant. "Osiris, lord of the underworld, hear my plea. One approaches who should not pass, whose time is not yet come. Refuse her passage, return her to the land of the living."

She could feel the power building, knew her supplications had been heard. Just a little more...

Suddenly, hands were upon her, pulling her around. "Willow, what are you doing?"

It was enough to interrupt the summoning, end whatever contact she might have made. Without stopping to think or consider, she lashed out, sending her mother flying across the room. "Leave me alone!"

The words echoed through the suddenly silent room. It was as if she was seeing everything through a red haze. Her mother, crumpled in a heap against the base of the far wall. Giles framed in the doorway, his face set and grim. The frightened onlookers. "You have no idea who you're messing with," she hissed.

Giles took a cautious step toward her and Willow was surprised to sees lines of power around him, banked embers that awaited a spark. "Take deep breath. No one here means you harm."

The voice she'd once found comforting grated now, pinched like shoes long outgrown. "No one means to help, either. She's gone and unless you're going to help me, get out of my way."

She started toward him, wondering if he'd have the guts to take her on. Rank, arrogant amateur, was she? Then why did she see him gather what power he had, ready to go on the defensive?

Power. She needed it. She couldn't do a resurrection spell on her own, never thought she could. It was why she'd gathered Xander, Anya and Tara to help her bring back Buffy. A circle of power willing to let her tap into them for the purpose without doubt. That's what she needed now, though she doubted she would find it easily. Tara would be on the path, passing further beyond with every passing second. She might have been able to get Osiris to grant her wish with her own power if her mother hadn't interrupted her. Now, darker magics were called for.

Gathering her strength to her, focusing it in one point, Willow walked straight for the door ready to lash out at Giles if necessary. As she anticipated, his lips were moving in a spell. Fool. With a single push that caused the lights in the building to dim momentarily and sent alarms ringing, she shoved him aside and raced out the Emergency Room exit, picking up speed with every step. She knew exactly where she had to go.

On to Part 2

Back to Confrontation

On to Aftermath