Emily was nervous. She had never been called to the counselor's office before, and even though her parents had prepared her for being called out of class, it made her feel as if she had done something wrong. She walked down the wooden floored halls of Sunnydale Elementary suddenly finding them to seem very much bigger than they had seemed before. Big and quiet. Too quiet. The doors to the other classrooms were mostly shut, occasionally one would be open and she would walk more briskly buy, afraid that if the teacher inside were to see her, they might think less of her, despite the fact that she did not know them.

She clutched the offices summons tightly in her small right hand as she used her left to grasp the door to the administrative offices and turned the knob gingerly, peering inside.

"Yes?" said a rather severe looking woman from behind a long counter-like desk.

Emily looked up at the strange lady with wide doe eyes, wordlessly reaching her hand up onto the counter, and letting the crumpled summons fall onto the countertop.

The older woman sniffed at the paper before picking it up and unraveling it to read.

"Oh," she said her demeanor warming, "Down the hall, dearie, last door on your right. You're parents are already here."

Emily nodded mutely and pivoted to go down the hall. She stuck her head into the indicated room and found herself staring into the face of someone she had never seen before, her parents seated with their backs turned to her, they did not notice their daughter's entrance.

"Here she is," Charlotte announced happily from behind her desk. Willow and Tara both turned in their seats to greet Emily with beaming smiles, her little sister asleep in her mommy's arms.

"Come here, sweetheart," Willow encouraged, taking Emily's hand and pulling her to stand between her and her wife's chairs. "You want to sit on my lap?"

"Yes please," Emily asked softly, her level of anxiety betrayed by her eyes. She knew she wasn't in trouble, but she felt as though she was. Willow lifted Emily up onto her lap, and the miniature redhead relaxed considerably in her Mama's arms.

"My goodness, Willow," Charlotte commented, "The two of you look so much alike. No doubt who's daughter she is there. I take it you had Emily and Tara had the new baby?"

Tara had to work very hard to stifle a laugh. "Um, no…" she said after sharing a quick glance with her lover, "I had Emily and Willow had Michelle."

"Oh," Charlotte answered, seemingly confused by the revelation. "Interesting… I just thought since… never mind." The counselor waved it off, turning her attention once more to the child seated on the redhead's lap. "Emily, do you know why you've been called to my office today?"

"Mama said it was because of my good test scores and maybe going to fourth grade," Emily replied, feeling slightly more sure of herself

"Exactly," the counselor smiled. "How do you like school so far this year. Emily?"

"It's fun," the girl answered, "It's always fun. I like learning."

"Is it easy or difficult?" Charlotte pressed.

"Um… it's easy."

"Too easy?"

"Sometimes," Emily said honestly. "Sometimes I get a little bored. But then my friends need help and I help them and it's not so boring."

"How do you help them?" the counselor questioned.

"Well, if we're doing a group project and they don't understand something, they ask me and I explain it to them," Emily explained.

"Do you like your teacher?"

"Mr. Bradst is okay," the girl replied, "I mean, he's nice and stuff."

"Is there a teacher you liked better than Mr. Bradst?" asked Charlotte.

Emily started to get excited at this question and wiggled a little bit on Willow's lap. "Oh yes," she said animatedly, "Ms. Henckle. She was my teacher last year for second grade. She always gave me fun stuff to do."

"Like what?" asked Tara, feeling it was time she and Willow started joining in this conversation.

"Like worksheets and stuff. Math worksheets mostly, with really big numbers!"

"How big," Willow inquired.

"Three digits mostly," Emily explained, "But sometimes four! And it was tough math like multiplication and dividing."

"And were you able to do the math?" Charlotte questioned.

"Most of the time, but sometimes I would get stuck and Ms. Henckle would have to help me." Emily's voice fell slightly, as though she was upset with needing help. Tara caught this immediately and went to put a stop to it.

"Emily," she said firmly, but sweetly, "It is never wrong to need help with something, and it is certainly never wrong to ask for help when you need it. Okay?"

"Yes, Mommy," her daughter smiled softly.

"Did Ms. Henckle ever give you anything other than math to do, Em?" Willow now asked.

"Um, yeah… ," Emily recalled, "Sometimes she would give me lists of words to look up… Oh! And puzzles, she liked to give me puzzles to solve."

"What kind of puzzles?" said Charlotte.

"Riddles mostly."

"Emily," Charlotte began after a pause, "How would you like to have Ms. Henckle as your teacher again?"

Emily's eyes went wide with surprise as her jaw dropped with excitement. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Charlotte smiled back, "Ms. Henckle is the new fourth grade teacher."

"She's not just the fourth grade teacher," Willow clarified a little firmly. Not wanting her daughter to get ahead of herself with excitement. "Baby-girl, look at me." Emily swiveled a little on her Mama's lap and small blue eyes met older green. "Ms. Henckle also teaches the G.A.T.E. program. Do you know what that is?"

"It's the special classes for the smart kids," she replied.

"Sort of," Willow agreed. "They're classes for students that pick things up a little faster than their classmates. A person can be very smart and not be in the G.A.T.E. program, it doesn't mean anything against them. Emily, if you choose to go the fourth grade with Ms. Henckle, you'll be placed in the G.A.T.E. program with other kids who learn fast like you. It's going to be a lot of work. Much more than what you're used to. Is that what you want?"

"Before you answer, Emily" Tara interjected, "Remember that your Mama and I love you very much, and we only want you to be happy. You don't have to do anything you don't want to if you only feel that you have to impress us or make us proud. We're already so very, very proud of you."

"We're here to support you in what you want to do," Willow added warmly. "Not in what you think we want."

"Do you want to go to the fourth grade, Emily?" Charlotte asked.

The little girl considered this for a long moment. Fourth grade sounded like a fun adventure, and being with Ms. Henckle again would be good too. But, at the same time it did sound like a lot of work… but she enjoyed work and figuring out problems and learning new things. It could be fun. It would be fun.

"Yes," she finally said, her features set in a mini version of her Mama's resolve face. "Yes, I do."

The next half-hour was spent going over the paperwork of the advancement, and explaining to Emily how she would need to pass a test before she could move up a grade. A date was set for the exam and Willow and Tara hugged and kissed Emily goodbye as their little girl made her way back to class, promising to pick her up from school in a few hours and offering her reassurance that they were very proud of her, and would have been no matter what decision she had made.

Alone now in her office, Charlotte picked up her phone and dialed Ms. Henckle's classroom. "Ms. Henckle," she said in greeting, "you can expect Emily Rosenberg-Maclay to report to your class in the next couple of weeks…yes… you're welcome." And with that she hung-up and went back to her paperwork.

"Thanks, Mom," said Willow as she and Tara made their way down the front porch steps and into the front lawn of Willow's childhood home. "We'll be back to pick them up in a couple of hours."

"Before it gets dark," Tara added. "Again, we can't thank you enough…"

"Nonsense," said Sheila, politely cutting her off, "What are grandparents for without grandchildren? They'll be fine. I'll give Michelle her bottle when she wakes up, and Emily has plenty of homework to keep her occupied."

"Yes, well if she runs out there should be one or two coloring books in the diaper bag," said Willow. "Or you can give her the dictionary to read. She likes that."

"Just like you used to," her mother smiled, raising an eyebrow of amusement.

The two women waved to Mrs. Rosenberg one last time before turning the corner of the pathway on the sidewalk, heading toward Buffy's house.

"It's too bad Anya wasn't available to baby sit," said Willow, "Emily hasn't seen Joseph in almost a week. I know she misses him."

"Will, you're mom will be fine," Tara soothed.

The redhead's face puckered into a grimace. "I know, I guess," she said, "It's just… I don't want her filling Emily's head with any of her… ideas."

"Honey, she's changed," the wiccan pacified, "Or at least she's making a real effort."

"It's just strange," replied Willow, "I'm not used to her acting like… well… acting like a mother."

"I think seeing what a wonderful parent you are has finally caused her to recognized some of her falling down points from when you were growing up," Tara offered. "I think she's realizing that all the 'hoo-ha' she wrote about and lectured on all those years was really just that."

"'Hoo-ha'?" Willow asked, smirking at her wife's choice of phrase.

"Yeah," Tara chuckled back. "It doesn't matter what kind of 'new-age' psychology you try to use with your children if you never really know who they are. If you talk at them rather than to them."

"I know," sighed Willow, remembering all of the one-sided conversations of her youth.

"But she didn't," the blonde explained, "she didn't know. But now she sees. And she's trying so hard, Will. You should try and give her a break."

Willow only nodded. She knew her lover was right, and it made no sense to continue to debate the subject. She smiled and took Tara's hand in her own, squeezing it tightly.

They walked on silently for a few moments before Tara's soft voice gently disturbed the air.

"Will?" she said tenderly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Something's been bothering me," Tara began.

"What?"

"Why did you lie?" she asked, "that day in the Magic Box so many months ago. You were supposed to be researching our lineage. Why did you say you traced yours back to Egypt? If you're adopted… how could you have known?"

Willow lowered her head a little, kicking a small rock with the toe of her shoe and scuffing the sole of her foot on the pavement. "Because," she began, her voice tiny, "I did research… I… I researched the only family I knew."

"You mean Sheila and Ira," Tara clarified, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Yeah," Willow breathed.

"Have you ever tried to find out anything about your birth parents?"

"Only what Sheila's told me…" the redhead trailed off, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

"It doesn't matter," Tara reassured her. "It's not important. I was just curious."

Again Willow nodded.

They arrived the Summers' home in time to greet Buffy coming back from a late-afternoon jog.

"Hey guys!" she waved cheerily. Let me just run inside and change really quick. Help yourself to the kitchen."

The married couple was about to follow the petite blonde inside when Ghaena hailed them from down the street.

"Hullo!" she greeted.

Willow and Tara looked in the priestess' direction and saw that she was not alone. A graceful ebony-haired woman strode along Ghaena's side, the wind playing through her dark curls.

"Hi, Ghaena… and…" the hacker waited for the brunette to fill in the blank.

"Willow, Tara, this is Morrigan," she introduced.

"Oh," remarked Tara, her eyes wide, "Uh… hi."

"Yeah... hi…"echoed Willow a little uneasily.

"A pleasure," Morrigan smiled, her emerald eyes twinkling in the sunlight.

"Sorry about the whole… binding you to a tree thing," Willow apologized.

"You didn't" the woman stated evenly.

"Oh… well... never mind then," she replied, taking it back.

Buffy came bounding out the house in a fresh set of sweats and tank top.

"Ready?" she asked, a little breathless.

"Sure," said Willow, "Buffy, this is Morrigan."

"Oh," said Buffy, adopting a cool air of civility, "Hi." Morrigan only nodded. "Well, let's go," the slayer continued, gesturing in the direction of the college campus.

Twenty minutes later the quintet arrived on the borders of UC Sunnydale. The trip had been mostly silent, everyone far to aware of the awkwardness of the situation. Ghaena had asked a couple of questions about Emily and Michelle, and the two women had answered her politely, albeit vaguely. Buffy kept her eye on the dark-haired new comer of the group and Morrigan simply remained resolute in her demeanor.

"This way," motioned Tara, leading the group into the woods at the edge of the campus. They moved on, occasionally stumbling on soft earth and over rocks and twigs and brambles. Finally, after they had been moving in the same direction for about ten minutes, Willow and Tara brought them to a halt.

"There," Willow stated, pointing to a gnarled, leafless tree. "I think," she added, her voice filling with puzzlement and fear.

"Oh my," breathed Tara, taking in the sight. When they had bound the entity to the tree, it had taken the shape of a sort of skeletal bird stuck forever in a pose as if it were crying out. But now, the trunk had split up the center, as if it had been struck by a lightening bolt, the middle charred and broken, flaying the old bird in half.

"Well, that is certainly not a good sign," Ghaena grumbled, taking a step toward the petrified bark.

"Don't" warned Morrigan. "There is darkness here."

"Ya think?" scoffed Buffy, "you don't have to be some froo-froo priestess lady to know that."

Morrigan regarded the slayer silently, a look of perplex momentarily graced her otherwise stoic features. "What's 'froo-froo'?" she asked.

"Forget it," said Buffy, "All I'm saying is how do we know that you didn't bust out of that thing, and you don't want us to get close enough to figure that out?"

The dark-haired priestess turned to her companion. "She's got a point," Ghaena shrugged.

Morrigan merely stepped aside and allowed Ghaena to pass. The brunette continued toward the twisted bark, but paused when she was in arms reach of the decrepit wood. Her breath quickened with apprehension as she slowly backed away.

"What is it?" asked Tara.

"Danger…" Ghaena managed to mutter, her eyes wide as she made a hastier retreat. "It's a trap. RUN!" she cried out, turning her back to the tree seeing the ground begin to break near the other girls as tree roots suddenly burst through the ground around their feet attempting to drag them down.

The others took off swiftly to the edge of the woods where they had come from, inadvertently leaving Ghaena behind as a strong root took hold of her right leg above the ankle.

"Morrigan!" she cried out in desperation.

The other priestess stopped her retreat and turned to look at her comrade, staring at her, her eyes seemingly with out emotion at the sight.

"Please!" Ghaena called out again.

But Morrigan did not move.

"Morrigan!!!" the brunette screamed as she was dragged further into the earth that was now up to her chest.

Hearing Ghaena's pleas for help, Buffy came to a screeching halt in her retreat. Her sudden stop likewise causing Tara and Willow pause.

"Ghaena's in trouble," the slayer said before quickly turning and backtracking her movements.

Buffy made it to the scene first, of course, followed swiftly by Willow and Tara.

"What are you doing?" the slayer berated the dark-haired woman, "Why aren't you helping her?"

Morrigan stayed silent, only watching.

Buffy regarded the priestess with a look of horror. She's just going to let her die, she thought. Buffy made a move to step past the priestess, but Morrigan put up a hand to stop her.

"Don't," she said simply, "It will pull you down too."

"We have to do something!" Buffy argued, using her slayer strength to push past Morrigan and toward Ghaena.

"Buffy, be careful!" Willow hollered after her.

"It will do no good," Morrigan said softly, "See how it hunts her." The priestess pointed to a fresh root growing from the ground seemingly in pursuit of Buffy's advance, moving to intercept. "She should have stayed back."

"What are we going to do?" asked Tara, her eyes wide with fear.

For the first time, Morrigan blinked, then turned to regard the blonde witch, her eyes kind. "Simple," she stated, "I command the wood." The dark lady looked back to where Buffy lay struggling now with Ghaena. Raising her hand, she quietly muttered, "Teasairg."

Suddenly, the dangerous vines began to retreat into the ground, leaving Buffy and Ghaena lying on top of the cold dirt, gasping for breath.

Morrigan approached the fallen pair, extending her hand first to the slayer. Buffy merely looked at her, then pushed herself up off the ground without help, crossing back over to Willow's side. Morrigan then offered assistance to Ghaena, who let out a defeated sigh and grudgingly accepted the other priestess's hand.

"Conas atá tú?," she asked.

"Tá mé ceart go leor.," Ghaena replied, dusting herself off. "Go raibh maith agat."

"Ahem!" announced the slayer.

Ghaena sighed again, looking to Morrigan, "English," she instructed.

The other priestess nodded and turned to the others. "We should go, I'm not sure how long the darkness will remain at bay."

"Alright," agreed Buffy, "Back to the house. But you've got a lot of explaining to do." She said the last staring pointedly at both priestesses.

The walk home was a silent one. Willow and Tara were in the lead, with Ghaena and Morrigan behind them and Buffy bringing up the rear so that she could better keep an eye on the two Irishwomen.

Tara held Willow's hand tightly, occasionally stealing worried glances in her wife's direction. Her concern was understandable, the redhead appeared to be in a state of mild shock, her eyes wide, her jaw clenched, she stared off into the space ahead of her.

"Willow?" she probed gently. "Sweetie?" The hacker turned her head to look at her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm just kind of… whoa, you know?" Willow answered.

Tara nodded in understanding and squeezed their held hands reassuringly.

"I mean," the redhead went on, "something out there wants to hurt us. Wants to hurt Emily. We've all been in danger before. Emily too. But this just seems so… personal."

"Willow…" Tara whispered softly, "I know that you're going think… well… you might think that I'm a little crazy for saying this…"

"What?" she asked softly.

"I believe…that is… I don't think that we bound," she sent an indicative glance toward Morrigan, "… to the tree. I think it was Morgan."

"What makes you so sure?" Willow queried.

"Didn't you feel it?" Tara continued to keep her voice low. "The magick. The stuff coming off the tree was totally dark. But when … she… cast the off the roots, everything felt lighter, like it had been touched by absolute good."

"But why did she wait so long to do anything?" asked her wife. "Why did she act like she was just going to leave Ghaena to die?"

Tara let out a long sigh. "I don't know," she answered honestly.

"Do you think we can still trust Ghaena?"

"I think so," the blonde replied.

"Maybe we should let her step up Emily's training," Willow offered. "This… thing… whoever it is, whatever it is, I want her to have some kind of defense against it."

"I agree," Tara concurred.

They arrived back at the Summers' residence in one piece just as the sun was beginning it's descent beneath the horizon. Willow and Tara explained their concerns regarding Emily's training, and the brunette agreed to meet with them after school the next day to begin a more accelerated regimen. The couple then excused themselves, explaining that they had promised to pick-up their girls before nightfall and headed quickly in the direction of Sheila's home.

The two priestesses turned to leave as well, but Buffy intercepted them, giving Morrigan a particularly cold stare.

"I don't trust you." She stated evenly. "How anyone can just stand by and watch their so-called friend fight for their life while you do nothing, doesn't exactly scream 'good-guy'."

"Buffy, Morrigan's actions were understandable given the circumstances," said Ghaena.

"On what planet?" the slayer asked, shocked at Ghaena's apparent nonchalance.

"I am immortal," the brunette stated, as if that explained everything away.

"So?" Buffy replied. "I've killed plenty of immortals in my day. Immortal doesn't mean you can't die."

"She is a true immortal," Morrigan stepped in. "One of the only. She is blessed by the Goddess herself and cannot be killed."

"I mean, don't get me wrong, the idea of being tortured by angry tree roots underground until I found a way to get out didn't exactly appeal to me," Ghaena commented wryly, "But my life was not in danger."

"You're awfully calm for someone who was screaming their lungs out for help," Buffy snarled. "You harm one hair on my goddaughter's head and I swear, I will find a way to kill you, and I'll make it painful."

Ghaena nodded at the slayer, in a way that could have been considered a small bow, before taking her leave of the slayer's front yard, Morrigan quietly in tow.

"And you," Buffy called to the dark-haired priestess, "You're not off the hook either. Just because your 'friend' can't be killed doesn't explain what took you so long to act. I'm not sure what you did to call off that tree, but it seemed simple enough. I don't recall you even breaking a sweat. So you be aware, I'm watching you too. You look at Willow or Tara or anyone in their family so much as sideways…"

"I understand," Morrigan smiled, "You're loyalty to your family is more than admirable. I shall be on my best behavior." With that she turned and went to catch up with Ghaena who was now further down the road, nearing the intersection.

Buffy watched them go intently. Her focus on the retreating women so great, that she did not notice the Raven perched in a small tree across the street, scrutinizing her every move.

A month passed uneventfully. This evening the Rosenberg-Maclay household was a buzz with the hustle and bustle of preparations to attend the Sunnydale Elementary School Parent/Teacher night. Each parent had been asked to bring a refreshment of sorts, and under pressure, Tara had agreed to brownies. She and Emily were hard at work in the kitchen, pulling the last tray from the oven and slicing the brownies into neat squares. Willow was supposed to be in the master bedroom giving Michelle her last feeding before they were to leave. That is what she was supposed to be doing. But Tara found her sitting in the living room, crying at the television set, an equally distressed Michelle wailing in her arms.

Normally a sight like this would have caused the blonde's heart to wrench, but it had recently become so common, that it did nothing more but to annoy her.

"Honey," she said, her voice sticky sweet, "What's wrong?"

"It's so beautiful," Willow blubbered, indicating the screen.

Tara glanced at it dismissively. "It's a squirrel… eating a nut." She stated.

"I know," the redhead cried, "Isn't nature beautiful?"

Tara wanted nothing more than to respond to her wife's comment by banging her own head repeatedly on the wall. However, she knew this would do nothing to cure Willow's postpartum depression. So instead, she stepped over to the television set and turned it off.

"I was watching that," Willow protested between sniffles.

"Honey, we're running late." Tara explained, "You need to feed Michelle so we can go."

"Is that all I am to you anymore?" Willow asked indignantly, "A baby feeding machine?"

Tara slapped her right hand over her eyes, rubbing it down her face in exasperation. "No, sweetie of course not," she answered, "But we are running behind. Parent/Teacher night, remember? We missed it last year and I don't want to miss it again. Especially with Emily skipping a grade. We can't leave until you feed Michelle, unless you want to breast feed her in front of the entire PTA."

Willow's eyes went wide at the visual. "We'll be in the bedroom," she said, standing abruptly and scurrying down the hall.

"Let me know when you're ready to leave," Tara called after her. She let out a frustrated sigh and collapsed into the sofa, shaking her head.

"Mommy?" asked Emily from the kitchen door.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Is Mama okay?"

"She's fine, honey," Tara assured her, "Mama's just… having a bad day."

"Is it my fault?" Emily asked worriedly.

Tara quickly moved to kneel in front of her daughter, taking her two small hands into her own. "No, no, no, no, no," she said fervently, "Absolutely not. I don't know how to explain it, but it is most definitely not your fault. Okay?"

"Okay," said Emily, still puzzled.

"Now, why don't you go wash your hands of all the brownie crumbs and I'll finish stacking them on a plate to go, alright?"

Emily nodded and complied, heading to the bathroom.

The school grounds were quite crowded with the parents and siblings of the elementary school students. Emily clung to Tara's hand, the idea of being out, not only after dark, but at school, was more than a little strange to her. The muffled sounds of parents talking to other parents in their deep grown-up voices echoing through the fluorescent-lit hallways gave her a sense of unease. The school was a safe place, during the day, but at night under false lighting it seemed a strange and foreign place.

"Mommy?" she stage-whispered, getting Tara's attention.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Do you think if I asked nicely, Mama would carry me?" Emily requested plaintively.

"Honey, Mama's got her hands full with Michelle," Tara replied, "Besides, you're almost eight years old. Don't you think you're a little old to be carried?"

"No," came the soft answer. Emily did her best impression of a pouting puppy.

"What's up?" asked Willow, as Tara brought them all to a stop.

"Emily wants you to carry her," the blonde explained.

"Okay," the hacker obliged, "If you don't mind carrying Michelle."

"Will," Tara chided.

"What?" she answered, slightly befuddled. "You can't carry Michelle?"

"It's not that…"

"Then… what?"

"Don't you think Emily is getting a little big to be carried?" Tara mused.

Willow considered this a moment. "Emily," she said, "Why do you want me to carry you?"

"There are too many grown-ups," the little girl explained, "I'm afraid of getting stepped on."

Willow turned back to her wife. "Makes sense to me."

"Will," the wiccan sighed.

"What?" Willow asked again, her tone turning to frustration.

"She is a big girl who is perfectly capable of walking on her own two feet," Tara replied, the last part of her sentence directed right at Emily.

"She's afraid of getting stepped on, Tar," Willow retorted, "I don't think that's unreasonable."

"Please don't make me the bad guy," Tara sighed.

"I'm sorry, I just don't understand what's wrong with me carrying her." The redhead sniped.

"There's nothing wrong with it," her lover explained, "she just needs to learn to walk on her own two feet."

"She can walk on her own two feet," Willow argued, "she's been walking on her own two feet since she was ten months old. Why can't she have a little rest? I don't mind carrying her!"

"Don't fight! Don't fight!" Emily cried. "It's okay, I can walk. See?" She took a few steps forward. "See? I'm okay."

"Oh Emily," said Tara, kneeling down to her eye level. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean to fight. Mama and I have just been really tired lately, so we get upset at silly things."

"Don't be upset," Emily stated softly. "I can walk."

"No," Tara smiled gently. "I'll carry you. Is it okay if I carry you… instead of Mama?"

Her daughter nodded quietly.

"Okay," her mother replied, rising back up to her feet, "you hold the brownies, and I'll hold you."

After Emily was settled into Tara's arms, the family made its way over to the refreshment table to drop off the brownie plate.

"Oh these look wonderful Mrs. Rosenberg," said Patricia Horton, the head of the PTA as she graciously accepted the offered sweets from Tara.

"Rosenberg-Maclay," Emily proudly corrected.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Patricia apologized.

"It's alright, it can be a mouthful," Willow smirked, causing Tara to blush and stifle a laugh.

"Call me Tara," the blonde smiled after a moment of regaining herself. "And this is Willow."

"Hi," the woman grinned, "I'd shake your hands but you look as though you have them full. I'm Patricia, but call me Pat."

"Thanks, Pat," said Willow.

"Can I interest either of you in a lemonade?" she offered, lifting the ladle to a paper cup.

"NO!," belted Willow, a little to fervently, causing Pat to jump a spill some of the drink onto the tabletop. "I mean… no thank you," she added, recovering.

"Oh," stated Patricia, cautiously setting the ladle back into the punch bowl. "Well, um… I think some of the other parents brought soda pop. It's at the other end of the table."

"We're fine, thanks, Pat," assured Tara. "We just came to drop off the brownies… oh… and meet the teachers… of course." She gave her wife an odd stare.

"Yeah," the redhead concurred, catching Tara's glance.

"Kindergarten is in building "A" room A1," Pat began her rehearsed speech, "First through Fourth grade is meeting in Building B, 100 hall: First grade is in 101, Second in room 102, third in 103 and, fourth in…"

"104?" Willow concluded.

"Right," the woman nodded.

"What about for G.A.T.E. students?" Tara asked, adjusting Emily a little in her arms.

"Oh, they're meeting in Building B, 200 hall: first in 201, second in 20…"

"I think we've got it," smiled Willow, interrupting her again. "Thanks."

Patricia smiled congenially, silently upset at being cut-off. She took a small step backwards, indicating her separation from the conversation, and moved to help another set of parents dropping off food.

"Well, baby-girl," said Willow, "point us in the right direction."

Emily stuck out a small finger in the direction of Building B, and the group made their way there. Two hallways, one courtyard and one stairway (which Tara insisted Emily climb on her own) later they arrived in the brightly lit classroom. The walls were decorated with student art, and motivational posters saying things like, "Dream to Achieve, Achieve the Dream!" with pictures of mountain climbers scaling a cliff-face and whatnot.

"This isn't really our classroom," Emily explained knowingly. "Normally we're in the 300 hall upstairs."

Tara and Willow nodded at the information, leading Emily to sit with them in a group of unoccupied desks near the center of the classroom. Other parents slowly filtered in and sat down, discussing amongst themselves. Willow and Tara noted that they were the only parents to have brought their child along for the evening, and found this odd.

"It's so frustrating," Tara said softly to Willow. "So many parents try to keep their child's lives a secret from them. When I was Emily's age, I used to dread Parent/Teacher night. My mom and dad would disappear to the school for three hours, and I had no idea what my teachers would say about me. My mother would always tell me of course. But not dad."

"Maybe he just figured that your mom would tell you," Willow offered.

"I don't think so," Tara sighed, "I think he enjoyed the power it gave him. 'I know more about you than you do' type thing. At least that's what he made me believe." Tara's voice grew distant at the memory.

"Hey," soothed the redhead, stroking her cheek, "that's over."

Tara leaned into the touch. "I know," she smiled.

"Here she is!" whispered Emily excitedly tapping her mommy's arm. "Here's Ms. Henckle!"

The two women looked up over the seated heads of the rest of the parents to see Ms. Henckle enter the room. She was of average height, and slender. She wore a lilac colored dress that nicely offset her dark hair and brown eyes. She leaned casually against the front of the desk and waited for the room to quiet, until all eyes were focused on her.

"Good evening," she began, her voice mellow and soothing, "I am Ms. Henckle, the fourth grade G.A.T.E. instructor. It's a pleasure to see so many parents here tonight. Although…I confess, I would have liked to see some more students. Hello, Emily." She waved. Emily waved back excitedly, puffing her small chest out in pride. Willow and Tara couldn't help but feel a little proud themselves. "For parents whose children are in the G.A.T.E. program it is essential that everyone in the family play an active role in supporting these young intellectuals. Your children were chosen for the program for a reason. Not only are they extraordinarily bright, but they show great promise to succeed. Not only in school, but in their lives at home and beyond…"

Ms. Henckle continued on for another fifteen minutes or so, stressing the importance of a strong and healthy home life, as well as how a child should be involved in their academic progress, and not left in the dark with hidden report cards and secret parent/teacher meetings. The other parents shifted nervously, whereas Willow and Tara allowed themselves to smile more and more openly, each feeling the distinct need to pat each other, and Emily, on the back. Finally, Ms. Henckle drew to a close and invited parents to speak with her one on one before moving on to other classrooms.

Tara and Willow stayed back until most of the other parents were gone, before approaching her at the desk.

"Ms. Henckle?" addressed Willow, "Hi, I'm Willow Rosenberg-Maclay and this is my wife Tara. We're Emily's parents."

"A pleasure to finally meet you," smiled Ms. Henckle, "and please, call me Regan."

"We've heard so much about you," said Tara, "Emily is so excited to be in your class again."

"And I'm excited to have her," Regan beamed, "she's my brightest student. Aren't you, Emily?"

"I try," the little redhead blushed.

"She does more than try," chuckled the teacher, "she runs me ragged."

"I don't mean to," Emily swiftly apologized, suddenly worried as to where the conversation was heading.

"I mean in a good way," Ms. Henckle assured her and her parents. "She's always got me looking for new challenges for her to try. New things for her to learn. Even now, after skipping a grade and being placed in the accelerated program, she's the head of the class. I see great things for her for her in the future. Provided her home life stays as stable as it seems."

"I think we can guarantee that," Willow smiled, winking subtly at Tara, who blushed in reply.

"So," Regan pressed on, "out of curiosity, what instrument is she studying?"

"I'm sorry?" asked Tara, confused.

"It's just that there have been a few times that I've asked Emily if she'd like to stay after for a little extra study time and she's always said that she has to be home in time for her lessons. I assumed she was taking an instrument."

"Oh," said Willow, "Well…"

"Which I think is wonderful," Ms, Henckle went on, "music has been proven to aide in the understanding of mathematics. And given Emily's proficiency at math, I must say it's definitely working."

"She's not taking an instrument," the hacker explained.

"Oh," remarked Regan.

"But she is meeting with a tutor occasionally," Tara offered.

"What sort of tutor?" Regan questioned.

"Magick!" Emily gleefully answered.

"Magic?" puzzled her teacher, "You mean like slight of hand?"

"I can float a pencil," Emily announced, "Want to see?"

"Sure". "No." Regan and Willow spoke on top of each other, Regan giving Willow an odd look.

"I mean," Willow went on, "not without your supplies, baby-girl."

"I don't need my supplies to float a pencil, Mama," Emily replied, as if what Willow had said was the silliest thing she had ever heard.

"Ha…haha…" Willow mock-laughed, "quite the little magician she is."

"We should really get going," intercepted Tara, "it's almost Emily's bedtime. It was nice to finally meet you, Ms. Henckle."

"Regan," she pressed again, "please."

"It was nice to meet you, Regan," the blonde amended. "But we really must run on."

"Yes, it's almost Em's bedtime and the baby needs changing," Willow added.

"Drive safely," Ms. Henckle smiled, "Emily, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," she said, waving her small little hand.

The family quickly made its way out of the building and into the courtyard across from the parking lot. After walking the short distance, they all piled into the family van, Willow securing Michelle in the car seat in the back before climbing into the driver's seat. Emily sat next to her little sister, her face contemplative.

"Mama?" she asked after a moment.

"Yes, baby-girl," Willow replied, focusing on the road.

"Is magick bad?"

"Oh, no, honey," Tara assured her. "It's just that… the type of magick you do, most people don't understand, and your Mama and I don't want you to get hurt or be treated differently because what you believe is different from what they do."

"What's wrong with being different?" Emily queried.

"Nothing," her mother replied.

"Then why is it so bad that other people know that I am different?" Emily's questions were good and honest ones, and Tara suddenly found herself at a loss for words. "Remember on the first day of kindergarten, when I was just a little kid…" Willow and Tara both smiled at their young daughter's choice of words. "And you said that if the teacher asked me what my daddy did I was supposed to say that he worked on computers… But I forgot and when she asked I said 'she' instead." The two women shared a glance as they remembered that particular phone call from that particular day. "But…," Emily went on, "Even if I hadn't forgotten… I think I would have said 'she' anyway. Because Mama is my daddy, and even though that's different… it's okay."

Willow brought the van to a stop in the driveway out front of their home, the sudden stop of the engine causing a strange, vacuumed silence to fall over the interior of the car. The redhead swiveled in her seat to look at her wise little girl. "You're right, baby-girl," she said, stifling a tear, "It is okay. It's wonderful and special and definitely okay. And magick is okay too. But we… your mother and I, want to keep it a family thing, alright? Just for us…And Ghaena," she added as an afterthought.

"Can you do that for us, sweetie?" Tara asked, also turning in her chair.

Emily thought about it a moment and then nodded a vigorous affirmative.

"Thank you, darling," smiled Willow, "Now… bedtime."

The small redhead let out a disgruntled moan, but obliged and, after she had helped her parents by carrying in her little sister's diaper bag, went to her room and prepared for bed.

"Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to You! Happy Birthday dear Emily! Happy Birthday to you!" All of the Scoobies sang horribly off key, Emily couldn't help but giggle at Xander's purposeful warbling. Ghaena and Morrigan were present, the former stood smiling by Buffy's side and the latter sitting in a chair by the corner. Dawn was there as well, standing behind the guest of honor and blowing on a noise-maker. Tara entered from the kitchen carrying Emily's birthday cake, a small sheet cake with the words, "8 is Gr8! Happy Birthday, Emily!," and eight small lit candles sticking out of it.

As they all finished the last of the refrain, Tara set the cake down on the dining room table.

Joseph clapped his hands sharply together, getting everyone's attention. He turned to Emily and signed, 'And many more.'

Everyone who was able to read what he said, started laughing out of amusement, and Emily leaned over to him and gave him a big hug saying, 'Thank you.'

"Okay, baby-girl," Willow beamed, holding Michelle in her arms, "Time to blow out the candles!"

"Oh yes!" cheered Anya. "Make a wish! Say it out loud!"

"No!" said Buffy quickly, startling everyone, "Um, keep your wish to yourself munchkin, it's just for you to know." This seemed to satisfy everyone, Tara and Willow sharing an imperceptible glance.

Emily had inhaled a deep breath and was just about to blow the candles out when a sudden knock came at the door.

Buffy glanced over to Willow, who shrugged her shoulders. "I'll get it," the slayer offered, "don't blow out the candles without me."

"Okay Godmommy," Emily smiled.

Buffy went to the front door and opened it to reveal a woman and a young girl, presumably her daughter, standing on the porch.

"Yes?" Buffy asked, confused.

"Hi," the lady smiled, "Sorry we're late. I'm Pat, Carrie's mom." The little girl waved shyly. Pat suddenly hesitated. "Uh… this is Emily Rosenberg's house, isn't it?"

"Rosenberg-Maclay," corrected Emily, coming up to the door. "Hi Carrie."

"Hi, Emily," Carrie replied softly. Emily stepped forward and took Carrie's hand, "You're just in time for cake! C'mon!"

Buffy smiled as she watched the two girls run past her and into the dining room with the rest. She looked back at Pat standing on the porch. "You can pick your daughter up in a couple of hours," she stated.

"Actually," said Pat, "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind if I came in. Carrie and I can't stay that long. It wouldn't make sense to leave only to come back in half an hour."

"Oh," said the slayer a little taken, "Um.. sure.. c'mon on in. We're just having cake."

"Thanks," replied Pat, smiling congenially and stepping into the house.

Buffy shut the door and indicated to the dining room. Pat nodded and moved ahead.

"Pat!" said Tara, surprised, "Um… good to see you again. Sorry, we're kind of out of chairs."

"That's alright, I don't mind standing," she grinned.

"Okay, Emily," Willow prompted, "You'd better blow those out before they melt into the cake!"

Emily nodded and sat up straight in her chair. This time though, instead of inhaling, she closing her eyes and muttered something under her breath, and the candles went out. Everyone gasped in astonishment. Particularly Pat who had no idea what to make of what had just happened.

"Emily!" Tara chastised.

Emily's eyes shot up to her mother, a look of guilt printed across her face

"What have I told you about doing magick without permission?" Tara was upset. She was more than upset, she was angry, and Emily knew it.

"Magic?" Pat asked. "Is that what that was?"

"Tricks!" said Xander, jumping in to the rescue, "Emily's quite the little magician. Take my word, never try play her at three card monty. She'll rob you blind. He..hehehe." He faux laughed. The other Scoobies joined in, minus Tara and Willow.

Emily continued to look up at her mother apprehensively, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"I'm sorry Emily. You know why we have the rules we do," Tara said, "Please go to your room."

"But Mommy!" Emily started to protest.

"Baby, it's her birthday!" Willow interceded. "It was just a little thing."

"It starts with little things," Tara responded, looking Willow dead on in the eye. Her lover merely shook her head in defeat.

"Emily," Tara began again, turning back to her daughter.

"If I may…," Ghaena said, stepping forward. "I extinguished the candles' flames. Emily had only closed her eyes to make a wish. I thought it would be…'neat' if she opened her eyes to find them out… as if to say her wish had come true. It was I, and I'm sorry. Please. Don't blame the child."

Tara looked Emily in the eyes, knowing she would be able to tell if her little girl was lying. "Is this true?" she asked. Emily nodded. "I'm sorry, baby," she said softly, offering her apology. "I'm so sorry." Tara knelt down in front of Emily, pulling her into her arms. "I ruined your birthday."

"No you didn't," Emily replied, running her small fingers through her mommy's long blonde hair. They stayed like this for a moment, Willow stepped over and placed a soothing hand on Emily's back.

"Somebody open a present before we start singing Kumbaya…" Buffy quipped, causing everyone to start laughing in relief as the tension lifted from the room.

"I'd rather have cake," said Emily as she lifted her head from Tara's shoulder.

"I think we can handle that," smiled Willow, "Why don't we re-light the candles so that this time Emily can blow them out?"

Everyone applauded the idea. "I'll just get the matches from the kitchen," stated Tara, rising.

"No trouble, I can light them," said Ghaena. Tara shot her a look. "Or not," the priestess amended.

Tara excused herself to the kitchen for the matches, Buffy followed.

"Okay, don't mind me being nosey, but what happened back there?" the slayer asked hastily. "I have never seen you snap judgment like that, especially on Emily."

Tara turned to face her wife's best friend, her hands were shaking slightly. Buffy noticed this and took them into her own. "Are you alright? What's going on?"

"It's probably nothing," the wiccan sighed. "Emily… Emily has already mastered the Elemental Magicks."

"I don't understand," Buffy said honestly, "You and Will have always been all up on the Wicca thing. Well, Willow used to be…"

"It's the first big step toward really complex magick," Tara explained, suddenly becoming a little emotional. "She's learning so fast Buffy. Too fast… so much like…"

"Like Willow," Buffy finished.

Tara nodded, stifling tears.

"Hey," said the slayer, rubbing her hands up and down Tara's upper arms as if to warm her against a chill. "It'll be okay. She has you, and Willow to guide her. You've seen how bad it can be. You can keep her safe from that. Ghaena seems to be a good teacher…"

"A good teacher who tosses spells like they were nothing?" Tara responded.

"She's over two thousand years old." Buffy offered. "I think she knows what's gonna get her in trouble." Tara nodded, still unsure. "We'd better get back out there before people get too restless."

The taller blonde smiled, and straightened up, leading the way back into the dining room. The candles were once again lit and this time properly blown out by the birthday girl herself. Cake was distributed and now everyone sat in the living room amidst a mountain of discarded wrapping paper.

Emily could not have been happier. She had been given books, books and more books. She clapped her hands with glee at each new title, each new story to unfold. The only present that wasn't a book came from Carrie, it was a Spongebob Squarepants lunchbox with a note inside:

"Thank you for sharing your lunch with me," Emily read aloud as her school chum blushed, "your mom makes the best sandwiches. Way better than mine. Love, Carrie."

"Carrie," Pat scolded her playfully, trying to save face.

"You're Carrie's mom?" Tara questioned.

"That's right, the little devil," Pat smirked, "it's always the quiet ones."

"I only ask because Emily told me her last name was Peters," the blonde continued on, adjusting Michelle in her arms as Willow had traded off with her a little earlier, "Isn't yours Horton?"

"Horton is my maiden name," Patricia explained, "Peters belonged to my ex-husband."

"Oh, sorry," Tara reddened.

"It's alright," she replied amicably, "I get asked all the time."

"Is it difficult being a single parent?" asked the wiccan.

"A little, at times," sighed Pat, "But I'm sure it's no where near as tough has how you girls have it."

"I'm sorry?" stated Tara, a little perplexed.

"I just mean, being… you know… the way you are," said Pat.

Tara carefully quelled the anger rising in her blood, just in case it was a misunderstanding. "What do you mean, 'the way I am'?"

"Well, you know… how you and Willow are… lesbians," she said the last word in a stage whisper. "It can't be easy, dealing with people and their opinions."

"What kind of opinions," Tara pressed, a sudden fire lighting at the backs of her eyes.

"Oh, you know…" Pat replied, now wanting very much to drop the subject.

"Enlighten me," the blonde smiled mischievously.

Patricia Horton straightened in her seat, silently enjoying the pun of her action. [I]Fine[/I], she thought,[I] she wants the truth, I'll give it to her.[/I] "Aren't you at all concerned that your lifestyle could easily impact your daughters' quality of life?"

The room went silent. Pat suddenly realized that not only had she spoken too loudly, she had spoken too loudly in this lesbian's home while being surrounded by this lesbian's friends.

"Hey, you better back off," warned Dawn, rising to her feet.

"Dawn, I've got it," Tara intercepted. "Thank you." The brunette acknowledged the entreaty, and stepped aside. "It's funny you should say that, [b]Pat[/b]," Tara retorted, hitting the other woman's name with vinegar. "Because yes, it does impact my daughters' 'quality of life'. They have two loving parents who care for them as deeply as they care for each other. Who make sure that every need is fulfilled and every want is considered. They have a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs, food in their stomachs and love in their hearts. So I'd have to say that my and my [I]wife's[/I] lifestyle has done nothing but ensure that our children have the highest 'quality of life' anyone could ever hope for."

The room burst into applause and Pat felt suddenly quite isolated.

"I think you should leave," Willow said firmly, stepping forward to stand beside her wife of nine years. "We can drop Carrie home after the party is over."

"Carrie is coming with me. Now." Pat replied, reaching for her daughter's arm.

"Mom, I want to stay," Carrie protested.

"We are going," Patricia ordered, "Now get your jacket."

Carrie stood and sulked over to where her coat lay across a chair near the door. Emily and Joseph went over to help her.

"I'm sorry," said Carrie. "My mom gets weird like this sometimes."

"It's okay," smiled Emily. "Thank you for coming. Thanks for the neat lunch box! I'm gonna start using it at school on Monday!"

"I wish we were still in the same grade together so that we could still have lunch at the same time," Carrie sighed.

Joseph signed something to Carrie, but the young girl shook her head not understanding.

"He said you can come over and have lunch with us on the weekends if you want," Emily explained, "Joey stays with us during the day most weekends because Aunt Anya and Uncle Xander both work on Saturdays."

"Thanks," said the little girl, "But I don't think my mom would let me. I'll miss your mom's sandwiches."

"I'll find a way to get them to you," Emily grinned.

"Okay," Carrie smiled.

"Carrie, let's go" barked Pat from the doorway.

Carrie shrugged to her friends and made her way out the door, where she was briskly ushered into her mom's car.

"Just once," piped Anya after Pat's car had pulled away, "It would be nice to have a party where the feces did not hit the rotating cooling device."

"Gee, hon, thanks for the visual," said Xander.

"Anytime," Anya sighed, oblivious, as usual.

"I'm going to put Michelle down," Tara announced.

"I'll help you," stated Dawn. Tara looked to her thankfully and nodded.

As Dawn and Tara disappeared down the hall, Willow looked over to Emily.

"Baby-girl, why don't you and Joseph carry all of your new books in to your room and start putting them away," she suggested.

"Okay," said Emily happily, signing the instructions to Joe, they quickly started stacking and carrying.

Inside her and Willow's room, Tara was gently settling Michelle into her bassinet while Dawn stood closely by. The small cradle wasn't used as much these days as Michelle had taken up more permanent residence in Emily's room, but occasionally necessity dictated a quieter place for the small babe to sleep. Dawn stepped forward hesitantly.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, so as not to wake the slumbering infant.

"Fine," Tara answered after a pause.

"Are you sure?" Dawn questioned, not wanting to press the subject too hard, but wanting to make sure her friend and surrogate mother was all right.

The blonde's shoulders slumped slightly, and she tenderly caressed Michelle's soft cheek. "This was supposed to be a happy day," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I-I-it still is," Dawn said hastily, trying to reassure her, "Emily seems happy. She got every book she asked for. She seems good. It's okay."

"Am I a good mother, Dawn?" Tara inquired suddenly.

"What?" said the brunette in surprise. "You're the best mom ever. You and Willow both. You're like the world's championship parents. Everyone wishes that we had you guys as our folks. I consider myself to be lucky, because I did have you for a mom. For a little while, anyway."

"Thank you," Tara smiled, stifling tears.

"This is because of that Pat woman, huh?" Dawn stated. "Don't you even begin to think that what she said was true. She's a bigot. And like most bigots, she's stupid. I hope she gets bit by a vamp."

"No you don't," Tara gently chastised. Not because on some level she didn't feel the same way, but because wishing that kind of fate on anyone was simply wrong.

"No I don't," Dawn grudgingly agreed, knowing what Tara meant. "Hey," she said gamely, "I'm kinda jonesin' for another piece of cake. You want?"

"Sure," Tara chuckled and followed her out of the room, making sure to turn the baby monitor on before she went.

Outside, Willow sat alone on the porch swing taking a moment to unwind. Buffy had left to make a quick run to the store for more soda and Xander and Anya were inside helping with the clean-up. She wasn't sure where Ghaena was. Morrigan stepped up next to her and held out a bottle of MGD.

"Ale?" she offered.

Willow looked at the bottle, then up at the woman holding it. She normally wasn't a beer drinker, but Xander had brought a twelve-pack for the post-party party when they all sat around and discussed Scooby business as well as just relaxed and talked and enjoyed each other's company. After a brief contemplation, Willow accepted the offering.

"Thanks," she said, returning her gaze to the space in front of her. She took a swig as Morrigan sat down next to her with her own bottle.

"Nice night for it," the priestess commented, taking a drink.

"Yeah…" Willow agreed, letting the word drift off.

In Emily's room, Joseph and Emily sat among the young girl's fresh pile of new books. Joseph couldn't read that well yet, but he enjoyed looking at books. Even if they didn't have pictures. He liked the way he could make is own pictures by seeing how the words on the pages made patterns. It was almost like looking at clouds. Emily had taught him this game. They both lay on their stomachs, staring at the pictures formed of words and sharing what they each saw.

'Bug', Joseph said.

'Where?' asked Emily.

The boy pointed his small finger on the page and traced the outline of the bug he saw.

'Cool', said Emily, 'I see a cat.'

"Hello, Emily, mind if I join you two?" inquired Ghaena from the doorway.

"Sure, go ahead," the little girl obliged.

The priestess entered and sat cross-legged on the floor with the two children.

"Which book do you like the best?" she asked.

"I like them all," Emily smiled, lovingly patting each of the paper jackets.

Ghaena smiled warmly. "In the one from me you'll find even more about Avalon then I've told you."

"Really?" Emily asked, eyes wide.

Joseph tugged on her shirt tail, 'What is A-B-L-O-N?" He had to try and spell the last word because he was unsure of what had Ghaena had said. Lip reading was a tricky art.

'A-V-A-L-O-N', Emily corrected, 'It's a place where faeries live. I wish I could go there'

"Emily," Ghaena began again, "What would you do if I told you that someday you will go there?"

"Really?" she asked again, this time even more excited.

Back on the porch, Willow and Morrigan had sat in awkward silence for the past eight minutes, each quietly nursing their beers.

"So," Morrigan said, trying to start a friendly conversation, "What do you do?"

Willow was clearly annoyed by the question, but answered anyway. "I, uh, construct computer software for solving highly complex mathematical equations for systems design firms."

"Oh," noted the ebony-haired woman, "That sounds very…interesting."

"Yep," said Willow, taking another swig.

Morrigan did the same. Another long pause. Willow just wished that Tara would come out and rescue her, but she could hear her wife chatting with Xander, Anya, and Dawn in the kitchen and knew she was otherwise occupied.

Morrigan swiftly grew tired of the silence and the negativity the redhead was sending at her in waves. She decided to put an end to it.

"It's all because of Ghaena, you know," she said, nonchalantly taking a drink. "Her and her meddling hands."

"What?" Willow asked, the statement having certainly caught her attention.

"Do you ever wonder why your hair is red?" Morrigan asked casually, "I would if I were you…" With that the priestess stood and retired into the house leaving the befuddled redhead alone on the porch with a half-finished beer.

"Ghaena," Morrigan said, sticking her head into Emily's room. "let's go. Long day ahead."

"Oh, yes of course," Ghaena agreed, standing. "Enjoy your book, Emily."

"I will, thank you," she said politely.

Ghaena patted both children on the head and exited into the hall with the other priestess.

"We're off," said the midwife waving to the small group of Scoobies assembled in the kitchen.

"Oh, okay, Ghaena," smiled Tara, "Thanks for coming."

The brunette priestess nodded, and followed by Morrigan, left the small family home.

Willow stepped in from outside. "Tara, we need to talk."

Sensing in the tension in the air, the rest of the Scoobies had excused themselves for the evening, Xander and Anya collected Joseph from Emily's room, and left the small house.

In their bedroom, while they waited for Emily to finish getting ready for bed, Willow explained to Tara what Morrigan had said to her outside. The news had been more than a little confusing to the blonde, and Willow waited, chewing softly on the pad of her thumb as she leaned against the dresser, watching her wife who was seated on the edge of the bed.

Finally, Willow could wait no longer and she spoke again.

"So what do you think?," she asked.

"I don't know." Tara replied honestly. "It seems like Morrigan is just trying to start something. But why would she be motivated to do that?"

"I don't know." Willow answered.

A momentary silence fell over the pair. It was Tara who next spoke again.

"I think I should take over Emily's lessons," she said decisively.

"You mean get rid of Ghaena?" The redhead asked, a little caught off guard.

Tara looked sadly up into Willow's eyes, "You saw how carelessly she used magick in front of her today."

"I know." Willow softly replied, bowing her head.

Silence filled the room like smoke making things thick and uncomfortable.

"I'll talk to her." Willow stated.

"Emily?" Tara inquired.

"Ghaena."

"Oh." Tara spoke, "About stopping the lessons?"

"Yes." The redhead agreed, then added, "And about my hair."

"Your hair?" Tara was momentarily perplexed until she remembered, "Oh, right."

Willow shifted a little on her feet, a sign of her unease. "Ghaena said it herself. It's because of her that my ancestors even got together. What if..." She drifted off.

"What if what?" The blonde gently coaxed.

Willow took in a deep shuddering breath before she continued. "What if they weren't supposed to get together in the first place?"

Tara let out a gasp of shock. "Don't say that."

"But..."

"Don't." Tara cut her off and rose to her feet, getting into Willow's face. "If there has ever been one certainty in my life it was that from the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew that we were meant to be together. That we were destined to share out this life, even if at first we were a little unsure. So Willow Rosenberg, don't you dare even suggest that all of this has been a lie." Her tone was firm and clearly would not accept any form of argument or dispute.

Willow said the only thing that came to her mind, "Maclay."

Tara blinked, "What?"

The hacker took her lover's hands gently into her own as she spoke again. "Willow Rosenberg-Maclay."

Tara smiled as tears formed in her eyes. She repeated, "Willow Rosenberg-Maclay." She freed one hand from her wife's grip and brought it to Willow's cheek, stroking it softly before leaning in a placing a tender kiss on her lips. She pulled away and looked into loving green eyes. "No more lessons."

"Ghaena will be upset." Said Willow. It was a statement of fact and not a contest.

"Let her be." Tara sighed, "If she can't be straightforward with us about...us..."

"Let me talk to her." Offered Willow, "See if any of what Morrigan said was true."

" She didn't say much."

"But what she did held alot of..."

"Nothing," Tara interrupted her, "It held alot of nothing. I still think she she's just trying to pick a fight."

"You're probably right." The hacker agreed, " I just wish I knew why."

Tara shook her head. She was tired. "Let's not worry about it tonight."

"Alright." Willow resigned and kissed Tara once more.

The wiccan tasted her own lips as they parted, her brow furrowing a little. "Did you have a beer?" she asked.

"Huh?" said Willow, "Oh, yeah... Morrigan..."

"It's okay." Tara assured her, "You just.. probably shouldn't breast feed is all."

Willow chuckled and rolled her eyes humorously, imagining it wouldn't look good to have a drunken infant. "Good point." There was a brief pause as they gazed lovingly into each other's eyes. "I'm going to go tuck Emily in." Said Willow, "There should still be a couple containers of expressed milk in the fridge."

"Alright..." said the blonde, "I love you."

"I love you too, Baby," Willow smiled, before disappearing down the hall to Emily's room.

"Hey, baby-girl." she said, poking her head into her daughter's still lit room. Emily was snuggled into her bed, hugging her teddy bear Mr. Wigglesworth to her chest. She didn't sleep with the plush toy often, but it had been a gift to her from Buffy a couple of years back and she occasionally cuddled with it when she needed a calming influence to help her sleep. It had been her birthday, after all, and the cake had left her a little hyper, and knowing that her bedtime was of one of the few things not up for negotiation with her parents, she had instinctively grabbed the tan bear from off her dresser before climbing into bed.

"Hey, Mama," Emily replied cheerily.

Willow moved to sit on the edge of the bed by her daughter's waist, "I'm sorry that your birthday wasn't the best."

"Yes it was." The little girl argued.

"It was?" Willow asked, a little surprised, "Even with everything that happened?"

"Yes." Emily stated assuredly.

"Why?"

Emily thought about this for a moment and came up with the only answer she could, "I don't know. It just was."

Willow laughed lightly, and decided not to press the matter further. Emily did seem to be thoroughly pleased with her day despite all of the uninvited negativity Scooby birthday parties tended to attract. She guessed that on a scale of one to ten, this party had ranked a low two for calamitous circumstances. "Okay." she said finally, putting the issue, and her daughter, to bed. She pulled the star and moon print covers up to Emily's chin and leaned down, kissing her tiny nose.

Emily let out an unexpectedly sleepy yawn as Willow pulled away. "Mama?"

"Yes, baby-girl?" she said, caressing her daughter's soft cheek.

"Am I really going to get to go to Avalon someday?"

Willow felt her features darken, and with an effort she shifted them back to normal, while trying to steady her voice, "Maybe... someday..."

"Okay." Emily stated, stifling another yawn. "Night, Mama."

"Night, baby..." the older redhead spoke as she stood. Then bent down again and placed another kiss on Emily's forehead before going to the door and shutting off the light. She hesitated a moment in the darkness, watching her little girl as she shifted deeper into her blankets. Willow smiled, almost sadly, and then stepped back into the hall, leaving the door open a crack so that the hallway nightlight filtered into the small room.

Okay, this is different. Willow thought to herself as she examined her surroundings. I'm outside… at night… alone. Why am I outside at night alone? She looked down at her body, examining it. These aren't my clothes…are they? I think they are. But old, really old. Like, late thirteenth century old. Rough wool and leather. Oh, a sword. I have a sword. This is my body… these are my hands. This is… apparently… my campfire. Where am I?

Suddenly, she heard a twig snap behind her. She instinctively drew her sword and turned toward the sound.

" Who goes there?" she asked bravely. Did I say that? She thought at the sound of her voice, I'm Scottish. Funny. I always thought I was Irish. She listened to the air again, but there was nothing. No sounds of any kind save for the whispering wind that brought the scent of sage and pine to her nose. "Quit your hiding. I can smell you."

From out of the shadows behind her, a lone figure in long robes stepped out, sword drawn. Willow spun to face her, racing her weapon. They both stood stock still, each blade held to the other's neck. Woa! Thought Willow, It's Ghaena… sneaking up on me… with a sword. Um… well looks like I'm just along for the ride now. Go thirteenth century me! Kick some butt! This dream is probably important. I wonder if I should take notes…

Ghaena held Willow's gaze a moment before speaking. "Lower your weapon, young mercenary. I mean you know harm."

"I will lower mine when you have lowered yours." The redhead replied. You tell her, me! I mean…

"Let us both be satisfied. We shall sheath our naked blades in their skins at the same moment." Offered Ghaena.

Eew, suggestive much?

"Say at the count of three." The priestess continued, "You can count?"

"Of course I can count!" the mercenary countered, "I am no fool." Not that any me ever would be.

"Than you shall do the honors." Ghaena smiled, her sword still trained on the young woman's neck.

Um… this could be a trick… c'mon me, what are you thinking? You can do it! Whoever I am.

"One..."

Their stared into each other's eyes, still very much en guarde.

"Two..."

The tip of the redhead's sword to faltered a little at the other woman's neck. A betrayal of her nervousness. This did not go unnoticed to the brunette and the mercenary knew it.

"Three."

They simultaneously dropped and sheathed their weapons. Ghaena gestured for the fighter to return to her seat.

"We shall sit and talk now, as though we were civilized folk." Said the priestess as she took her seat opposite the redhead and across the campfire. They regarded each other cautiously through the campfire's flames.

"Who are you and why have you been following me?" the mercenary began. Yeah, no kidding! Wait, she's been following me, er, you…us?

"You do not know me?"

"Only that you have shadowed me these past three eves." The petite warrior stated. "Yet, I must confess your face is familiar to me."

"I am a friend."

"And yet you come upon me, weapon drawn." The redhead countered. That's right! dream Willow agreed from her seat at the back of her past self's sight.

"I saw you had drawn yours, I was only being cautious." Ghaena offered in explanation.

"So you say."

"Strange." The priestess noted.

"What?" What?

"That you are born of Cymru, yet speak with a Scottish brogue." The brunette explained.

"You mistake. I am not born of Cymru." Who would want to be born in a place that sounds so naughty, anyway?

"Aye you are. I was there."

Willow felt her past self's gaze narrow in Ghaena's direction. "Who are you?"

"I told you."

"You said, 'a friend'. Speak your name." It's Ghaena! Willow called out with her thoughts.

The mercenary watched as Ghaena hesitated. Peering at her through the fire she watched as the priestesses features suddenly changed in the flickering flame, and then they were Ghanea again. Did you see that? Willow gasped, She's someone else! I know that face! Where have I seen itThe mercenary stood and reached for her sword. Good idea, agreed Willow.

"You are not what you seem."

"Stay your hand." The brunette pleaded, raising her own in protest.

The young woman let her hand stay trained on the hilt of her blade. "Speak your name."

Ghaena looked down at her feet and chuckled.

She's laughing? Why is she laughing? That can't be good.

"You are very clever, but for a mercenary, far too trusting." The priestess stated, appearing to rub warmth into her boot-covered calves. "You should never have lowered your blade in the first."

Okay, me. Probably a good time to demonstrate some kick-ass fighting skills! Willow thought nervously.

The mercenary swiftly moved to draw her weapon, but Ghaena was too fast, drawing a dagger from each boot, and throwing them at Willow.

NO!!

They landed striking her square in the chest and the impact knocking her off her feet. As she fell back Willow cried out in pain and anguish.

"Tara!!"

"Tara!!"

Tara jumped awake, roused suddenly by her lover's anguished cry. She blonde quickly rolled to her side, trying to see Willow's face in the darkness, lying beside her.

"Will?"

"Tara!," the redhead cried out in pain, "My chest! My chest... knives! Ghaena...

Tara tried to clear her fog-filled brain, "Willow? What's wrong?"

"My chest! There are knives in my chest!"

Tara rolled to her side and turned on the side lamp, returing her gaze to Willow, who lay panick-stricken on her back. Her hands were hovering near, though not touching her chest. There were of course no knives.

"No knives, Willow." Tara soothed, "There are no knives. It was a nightmare."

"My chest...hurts... I can't breath!" The hacker was now starting to hyperventilate.

"Sh. Sh, baby." Said Tara, trying to stop her lover from giving herself an embolism. "Calm down. Let me see." She started to reach to undo the buttons to Willow's pajama top.

"Don't touch! Don't Touch!" Willow stopped her, "It hurts when you touch."

"Sweetie, I'm just going to unbutton your top. I need to see if you're hurt." Tara rationalized.

Willow swallowed and cautiously nodded her head in assent. Tara gingerly undid

the plastic buttons and opened the sleeping shirt.

Tara's breath caught in her throat at the sight before her. "Oh my god. Willow," she said, "when was the last time you breastfed Michelle?"

Willow hesitated, unsure what that had to do with knives being in her chest, "What?"

"When was the last time you expressed any milk?" Tara clarified.

Willow tried to clear her memory, trying to think through the incredible tightening pain of her chest, "Um... um... this morning... Things got so busy...with the party..."

"Sh. Try and stay calm." Tara soothed again, "Honey, your breasts are engorged. That's why you're in so much pain. "

"They're what?" Willow's eyes shot even wider as she looked down her nose to see her chest. What she saw startled her so that she had to shut her eyes in response. Her breasts were three times their normal size, the skin completely stretched taut to the point where it appeared to be almost plastic.

"Engorged," the blonde continued to explain. "They are completely filled with milk. Willow, we have to express this milk. Now."

"Please!" Willow begged her. "It hurts so bad."

"I know," Tara nodded in understanding, "It happened to me once with Emily, remember? We have to get you to relax so that the breast pump can work. Can you sit up?"

Willow lifted her head a little, then collapsed back into the pillow. "No, I…I don't think I can move…." She was beginning to panic again.

"Okay," said Tara, "Alright, just stay there. I'll get the heating pad. That should soothe some of the pain and help you to relax a little." She started to rise from the bed.

"Don't leave me!" Willow pleaded, grasping at Tara's arm.

"It's only for a moment," Tara promised, "I'll be right back."

Willow relented and let her wife go, her mind still racing with pain and the memory of her dream.

Willow sat at the breakfast table the next day shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She was exhausted from the previous night's debacle. Her breasts were sore and the nipples bruised from the unrelenting suction of the breast pump they had used to relieve her of the painful engorgement. Sadly, all of the milk had to be disposed of because of Willow's partaking of alcohol the night before. Enough milk for three feedings, gone.

But more upsetting to her than her current physical state was the images from the nightmare that had woken her from her sleep. She had told Tara some of what she had seen, and the blonde was understandably distressed.

When Willow stated that she still wanted to talk with Ghaena, Tara insisted that she not go alone. Willow agreed.

The redhead watched her beloved wife rush about the kitchen getting Emily's lunch ready for school while at the same time cooking breakfast for both herself and Willow. Suddenly, Willow's heart swelled with love while her mind filled with awe that this remarkable, beautiful, amazing woman was hers and that she, in turn, was the blonde's as well.

"I love you," her voice filled with so much sincerity it came close to breaking with emotion.

Tara turned from her tasks and caught Willow by the eye and seeing the utter, breathtaking love filling the green orbs, responded with equal truth, "I love you, too."

They held each other in their eyes for a moment, before Tara smiled shyly and went back to her work.

These moments were not uncommon, and yet were still wonderfully surprising and refreshing when they occurred. They both knew full well that they could not live with out one another for they were each other's souls and only complete when paired together.

"When are you expecting Ghaena?" Tara asked as she wiped down the counter.

"After we get back from taking Emily to school," Willow replied.

"We should probably get going, then," said Tara, turning as she called out to her eldest daughter, "Emily! Breakfast!"

"Coming, Mommy!" the little girl called from down the hall.

The two women held hands as Tara pushed Michelle in the stroller and Emily skipped ahead in front of them. Occasionally the small redhead would turn and walk backwards long enough to tell her parents something exciting about the coming school day, or of things that had happened the day before. Willow and Tara smiled, keenly interested in what their daughter had to say, at the same time finding her enthusiasm adorable if a little bit overbearing. But seeing Emily excited about her scholastics was more than enough compensation for the older pair's occasional exhaustion.

As they approached the school grounds, an image in the distance of the campus caused Emily to shriek with joy. Willow and Tara jumped slightly at the sound, but then relaxed as they saw to whom Emily was indicating.

"There's Carrie!" she said, standing on her tip-toes to wave at her friend. Carrie noticed her and waved in return. Emily looked to her Mommy a little anxiously, "Did you pack the extra sandwich, Mommy?"

"Yes, Emily, I did," Tara confirmed, "but this is only a once in a while thing, okay? Carrie's mommy works hard to make her sandwiches so Carrie should be grateful enough to eat them."

Emily nodded solemnly.

"Even if they aren't as good as mine," Tara added, a wicked glint in her eye. Willow gave her a playful look of reproach.

"You'd better get going now, baby girl," said Willow, "Don't want to be late for class."

"Okay, Mama," Emily replied, running into Willow's open arms for a big hug. She then turned to her Mommy who was kneeling down to her eye-level, pointing her index finger in Emily's direction, a jokingly serious look on her face. Emily matched Tara's look and likewise extended her index finger reaching out and touching hers to the tip of her Mommy's.

"Beeee Goooood," they said at the same time, mimicking E.T. Tara then poked Emily in the stomach, causing the little girl to giggle. Standing, Tara kissed her eldest lightly on the nose, and then swatted her bottom, sending her off in Carrie's direction.

"Have a good day!" Tara called after her. "We'll be here at two-thirty!"

Emily waved back at them to show that she had heard and then continued racing over to Carrie's side so that Emily could discreetly pass her the secret sandwich.

Willow and Tara both chuckled as they watched the pair's fumbled attempts at being sly. They turned themselves and the stroller to go but stopped when they saw two familiar faces in deep conversation across the parking lot.

The married couple shared a quick glance, silently deciding to confront the situation. As they neared the talking pair, they were able to catch the tail end of the dialogue"

"….thing not right about that family," Pat was saying to Mrs. Henckle. "I just don't see how any child can be raised in such an unhealthy environment."

Mrs. Henckle glanced quickly in Willow and Tara's direction before turning her attention back to Patricia.

"And then there was that strange business with the cake…," the PTA president went on."

"Patricia!" The teacher said, cutting her off. "What goes on in their home is none of your business. Nor mine either. All I know is that their daughter is the finest student I have and I am sure that it is a direct result of the so-called 'unhealthy environment' in which she is raised. Her parents are supportive, caring individuals… and here they are now…" she finished as Willow and Tara finished their approach. "Good morning Mrs.' Rosenberg-Maclay. How are you both today?"

"Fine, thank you, Mrs. Henckle," Willow smiled, sending a venomous look in the other woman's direction. "Good morning, [I]Pat[/I]."

Patricia Horton straightened as though she had been struck upside the head. She looked every other direction but at the blonde and redhead. "Good morning," she stiffly replied. "If you'll excuse me I have some business at home to attend to."

"Yes, of course," Tara grinned, speaking through her teeth. Pat made a hasty retreat to her small sedan, practically peeling out of the parking lot.

"I'm sorry," said Mrs. Henckle, shaking her head. "Pat Horton is… excuse me for saying so, but she is a boil on the butt of humanity."

The three women broke down into a loud fit of laughter. Willow laughed, looking into Tara's eyes, and then turning and looking into Mrs. Henckle's as well. Suddenly, something caused her to grab at her chest in pain.

"Ah," she exhaled, grasping at her shirt.

"Will?" Tara asked, wrapping her arm around her wife's shoulders to support her.

"Mrs. Rosenberg?" Mrs. Henckle gasped, equally distressed, stepping forward and helping Willow to sit on a parking space divider. "Um…Maclay," she added weakly as an after thought.

"I'm okay," Willow assured them both, taking a few deep breaths. "Just a flashback to last night I think."

The teacher regarded Tara curiously.

"We...uh... had a rough night with the baby," the blonde offered lamely by way of explanation.

"Oh," Mrs. Henckle replied, clearly befuddled. "Are you alright? Can I get you anything?"

"No," stated Willow, moving to stand with Tara's aide. "I'm fine. We should get home, I think."

"Of course," said the teacher, "This is my free period. I could give you a ride home."

"No car seat," Willow answered, indicating Michelle.

"Right," said Mrs. Henckle, shaking her head apologetically, "I forgot. Will you be okay to walk?"

"I think so," the hacker nodded.

"Alright," the teacher said, resigned now to not helping. "I'd better get inside then. I hope you feel better."

"Thanks" said the redhead as she and Tara turned to go.

"Are you okay," she blonde asked softly, wrapping her right arm around Willow's waist.

"Yeah, I think maybe the laughing aggravated the soreness," Willow replied, before looking over her should at the retreating figure of Emily's teacher. "I think."

They arrived back to the house and found Ghaena sitting patiently on their doorstep.

"You sent for me," she stated, rising to her feet.

"Yes," said Tara, instinctively moving to stand in front of Michelle's stroller. The move was not lost to Ghaena's eye.

"What is wrong?" The Priestess asked cautiously, concerned by the blonde's protective maneuver.

Willow decided to get right to the point. "We're thinking of stopping Emily's lessons for a while."

"Thinking of?" Ghaena sought out clarification.

"Deciding to," Tara explained.

The brunette's gaze narrowed, she was not pleased. "Why?"

"There are things you aren't telling us," said Willow, "We don't think we can trust you anymore."

"What is it you wish to know," countered Ghaena, "ask and I shall tell."

"But will what you say be the truth?" inquired Tara. "You speak in riddles, Ghaena. And… and we're tired of playing sleuth. Especially over our own children and their safety. How do we know that you are being honest with us?"

"You don't," Ghaena answered as ever. "If you look with your mind, you don't. But if you see with your heart, you do." She paused a moment, considering her words. "I'll go. But I take with me questions unanswered… and I will be back. The safety of the children is what is most important. By sending me away, you place your daughter in perilous danger. Without me to continue her lessons…"

"Willow and I will train her," Tara interrupted.

"With what?" The Priestess scoffed. "Bath salts and aroma therapy candles?"

The Wiccan felt the breath escape from her lungs in a startled gasp. Never before had her faith been so grievously insulted. "How dare you," she finally managed.

Ghaena bowed her head in shame. "Forgive me, that was uncalled for. But yours are not the only feelings that have been injured here today. I'll go," she said again, now moving to leave, "But I shall not stray far. I am at your call."

"What of Morrigan?" asked Willow, "Will she go too?"

"She is not bound to me," Ghaena answered, "She will do as she pleases. But if I were you, I would be more concerned with the whereabouts of Le Fay. She wears many guises. She will earn your trust, as I have. But then she will betray it, as I have not. If you will not speak to me of this… Morrigan knows of her treachery first hand." As she had spoken, Ghaena had begun to retreat down the tree-lined street so that by the end of her short prose, she was near enough to the corner to turn down it and disappear into the surrounding neighborhood.

Willow and Tara shared a long glance, each of them considering the words the immortal had said. After a moment, Willow leant down and lifted Michelle from her stroller, cradling her with one arm and she took Tara's hand with her other, leading the blonde inside.

That night, Tara sat on the edge of Emily's bed reading the last of "Peter Pan" to her little girl, watching the small redhead's eyes fall heavy with sleepiness. Michelle lay dozing in her crib, occasionally kicking out her legs at the soft batting surrounding the inside of the oak bars.

"Mommy?" asked Emily sleepily as Tara closed the book.

"Yes, sweetie?" Tara responded softly. The sound of the shower in her and Willow's bathroom creating a pleasant white noise effect that was causing the blonde to relax as well.

"Can you fly?"

"Can I what?" Tara inquired, knowing full well what her daughter had asked. She wondered for a moment if flying included floating. But she decided floating stories were for when Emily was older. Much, much older.

"Can you fly?" Emily asked again.

"No, I don't think so," said her Mommy. "Why do you ask?"

"Because Wendy said to Jane that only the gay, innocent and heartless could fly and well, you're gay so…"

"Out of the mouths of babes!" Tara cried out laughing, the noise causing Michelle to fuss a little in her crib. Tara quickly lowered her voice. "Emily, honey, Wendy didn't mean gay like… well… like me or your Mama. Back when the book was written 'gay' meant happy and carefree."

"Aren't you happy and carefree?" Emily now asked with concern.

"Oh yes, I'm very happy, baby," Tara assured her, then sadly tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her daughter's ear, "but I'm not carefree."

"I wish you were carefree, Mommy." Said Emily.

"I don't" Tara countered. "If I was carefree then I wouldn't care about you or Mama or Michelle. And I love caring about you. It's what mommies do."

Emily nodded her head with sleepy satisfaction at the answer. "Mommy?" she whispered fighting sleep with her very last bit of strength.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Can you sing to me tonight?"

"Only if you sing with me," Tara replied.

"Okay," Emily agreed, knowing that this meant her Mommy would sing her favorite song.

Tara cleared her throat a little and began to sing softly, so as not to disturb Michelle.

[I]Tender shepherd, tender shepherd,

Let me help you count your sheep.

One in the meadow,

Two in the garden,

Three in the nursery fast asleep!

Tender shepherd, tender shepherd[/I]

Now Emily started singing in round with her mother.

[I]Watches over all his sheep. Tender shepherd, tender shepherd

One say your prayers and, Let me help you count your sheep

Two close your eyes and. One in the meadow,

Three safe and happily Two in the garden,

Three in the nursery fast asleep. Fall asleep.

Fast asleep. Fast asleep…[/I]

Tara kept chanting softly as she watched Emily snuggle down into her comforter and succumb to sleep. She carefully stood up from the bed and tucked the downy blanket around her daughter's shoulders, still singing softly as she made her way to the door, shutting off the side lamp and stepping into the hall, leaving the door open a bit for the hall light to filter in comfortingly. She allowed herself one last look into the darkened room before turning her attention away.

As she turned to go down the hall she found her mouth suddenly consumed by that of her lover's in a deep and passionate kiss. She relaxed instantly, letting out a soft moan of contentment as Willow wrapped her arms around her, holding her close. After a wonderfully long moment, they pulled slightly back, taking in each other's gaze.

"What was that for?" Tara asked softly.

"Being you," Willow answered, looking serenely into her wife's gorgeous blue eyes, her fingers toying in soft blonde hair.

Tara smiled her lopsided grin and pulled Willow close to her, resting her head on her wife's shoulder, her nose against her neck. She inhaled. "Mmm," she sighed, "You smell nice."

"I just showered," the redhead stated matter-of-factly, kissing at her love's cheek.

"No" Tara stated plainly.

"Uh," Willow puzzled, "Yes I did."

"I mean, no there's more to it," Tara explained, taking in another deep inhalation. "It's you… lavender, pine, spice…"

Willow raised a curious eyebrow as she felt Tara taste the skin behind her ear. "And everything nice?" she queried, her voice faltering a little as her eyelids fluttered in response to her lover's ministrations.

"That's what little Willow's are made of," the blonde murmured sensually, tightening her grip around the hacker's back, causing their breasts to press into one another.

"Tara?" Willow gulped at her arousal.

"Hmm?"

"Come to bed…"

Tara pulled back and looked into her wife's emerald green eyes. "Are you sure?" It would be the first time they had been together since just before Michelle was born, not to mention the fact that her lover's breasts were still bruised and sore from the previous night.

Rather than answer, Willow gently stepped away from Tara, taking her sweetheart by the hand and leading her quietly into their bedroom, closing the door behind them.

Willow felt the door shudder as it clicked into the frame. She turned and faced her love, content just to live in her eyes for a moment. She felt Tara's hand gently tighten its grip within her own as she watched blue eyes smile. Willow released the blonde's hand, bringing both of hers up to cup either side of her wife's face, drawing her in to another sweet kiss.

Tara wrapped her arms around Willow's waist, pulling her nearer into the embrace as the kiss deepened and lips parted to invite tongues to join in a sensual dance. Willow ran her fingers down Tara's graceful neck, pausing her fingers at the collar of her blouse, curling them into the material and gripping tightly, as if to steady herself from falling. Reluctantly, but unable to deny her hunger to taste Tara's skin, she let her lips wander away from the kiss and along the blonde's jaw line, to her neck and down it as her fingers slipped free of their entanglement and slid to the first of the vertical line of buttons, deftly undoing it and tugging the cloth aside allowing more skin for her lips and tongue to savor.

Tara let her head loll back on her neck, providing even more for her lover to enjoy. She held steadfastly to Willow's hips, only allowing her hands to slip from their purchase as the redhead's body slid down the front of her own leaving a trail of chaste kisses in its wake down the front of her abdomen, two kisses for every button undone. Now that she had reached the bottom of the first obstacle to her love's body, Willow slowly stood back up, tracing her hands up the soft skin of Tara's sides, feeling the momentary juxtaposition of textures as her fingers traced over the soft material of the blonde's bra before they finally landed on bare shoulders and sliding down the outside of smooth arms thereby pushing the shirt off and to the floor where it landed in a blue puddle at their feet.

The blonde's hands once again fell to Willow's waist, this time following the line of the terry-cloth belt of her bathrobe and gently beginning to untie it. The hacker's lips found Tara's mouth yet again and they kissed. Willow walked Tara backwards toward the edge of the bed, the blonde sitting as she felt her calves press into the downy comforter. The blonde finished undoing the front of Willow's robe just in time for the redhead to climb onto the bed, straddling her.

Willow leaned forward, encouraging Tara to lie back onto the mattress. Tara pushed the bathrobe off her wife's shoulders as she layback so that now Willow rested nude on top of her. The hacker hovered, her lips millimeters from Tara's own, she tilted her head slightly and touched the skin of her right cheek to her lover's, rubbing them lightly together. The touch was warm, caring and erotic all at once and Tara sighed contentedly at the feeling. The redhead then grazed their lips together as she slid her head to the other side of her lover's face, massaging their other cheeks against one another, mirroring the move from the previous side. While she did this, Willow balanced her weight on one hand, reaching down between their bodies with her other, expertly undoing the front clasping bra her wife still wore, then moving down even further to undo the drawstring of Tara's skirt.

As she felt the material around her waist loosen, Tara turned her head, catching Willow's lips with her own in another deep and loving kiss. She ran her tongue across her lover's lips, seeking entrance, which Willow gladly permitted, their tongues now diving in to taste and caress each other.

When they finally parted only out of necessity for air, Willow whispered softly in to Tara's ear, "Scoot up…"

Tara did not have to be told twice, she slid backwards up the length of the bed toward the headboard, the action causing her to leave her loose skirt and bra behind, as well as her panties, thanks to her wife gently pulling the last barrier between them off as she had moved.

Willow now slid up her lover's body, intent on pressing their nude bodies completely together, but found herself stopped by Tara holding up a hand in pause. The redhead quirked her head to the side in confusion. A confusion that passed quickly as she discovered where Tara's eyes had fallen.

The blonde used the fingertips of her outstretched hand and sadly traced the dark purple bruising surrounding her wife's areolas, her eyes taking in the sight of the injured flesh with a note of concern. Willow silenced Tara's worries by taking the hand that was gently touching her, kissing it lightly and then letting it go, allowing it to fall where it may. Tara let her hand drift down to rest beside her head, nodding almost imperceptibly, allowing Willow to continue.

Willow leaned forward again, resting her full weight on her lover beneath her. Their breasts pressed into one another tightly, though if it caused the redhead any pain, she never showed it. They kissed again, and Tara wrapped her arms around Willow's back, running her hands and fingers up and down the soft skin she found there. The hacker was content to stay like this for several long moments, feeling their bodies pressing into one another, exchanging heat. It was comfortable, it was safe, and it was good.

Neither of them spoke. Whether out of reverence for the moment or fear that if they made a sound it would break the spell of this chance. Emily would have a bad dream. Michelle would wake up hungry. Buffy would call. Or any other number of things that could happen or go wrong and cause them to be unable to have this moment. Coming together again, for the first time.

Finally, after what seemed a wonderful age, Willow adjusted herself so that one of her thighs rested between her wife's legs and she began to rock, slowly, gently, massaging her lover's center as she felt Tara's hands slide down to grasp at her behind, lightly digging into the flesh. A sign of encouragement. The redhead let her lips fall to Tara's neck, then her collarbone, and at last her breasts. Massaging the nipple of first one, then the other, with her tongue. Nipping and sucking at the sensitive creamy mounds; learning again their taste, texture and weight. Tara moaned softly and delightfully at her lover's ministrations, she bit her lip as the rocking into her center began to elucidate a light humming all through out her body, as she was made alive again.

The blonde brought one of her hands around from off her wife's bottom and let her fingers explore into the hot, wet folds of Willow's sex, causing the redhead's hips to buck forward at the connection. Willow let out a gasp as Tara ran her fingers up and down her slippery folds, occasionally grazing over the hard nub of her center sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body.

Wanting to keep things evenly matched, Willow likewise drew one of her hands down between their bodies and with two fingers entered the familiar territory of her wife's sex. She felt Tara exhale and then roll her hips in response and she smiled against the moist and erect nipple that she had been pleasuring. With her free hand, Tara raked her nails up Willow's back, tangling her fingers into auburn tresses she pulled her lover's lips back up to her own as she now pressed two fingers deep into her wife's center.

Willow whimpered softly into Tara's mouth as she felt her sweetheart move inside of her, filling her completely. She rocked her hips up and forward to take as much of Tara inside of her as she could. With both of them now inside each other, their dance began to become slightly more erratic. Their hips rolled a little more wildly against one another as they continued to kiss and taste each other's lips and skin. They each began a gentle piston of their fingers inside one another, matching each other's rhythm almost perfectly. Willow began to feel Tara starting to grip her fingers tightly, signaling her release. Tara likewise knew that her love was equally as close. She began to rub and roll Willow's hard center under her thumb, feeling the redhead answer her in kind.

They gasped, breathing heavily against each other's faces as they both neared the climax of their passionate lovemaking. Suddenly, Willow felt Tara tense beneath her and watched the blonde as her head rolled back, her mouth opening in a silent cry of ecstasy. The redhead quickly followed, the intensity of her release causing her hand to still inside her lover, unable to move as all the nerves in her body fired off signals of pleasure, her sight momentarily blinded by fireworks going off behind her eyes. When she was finally able to see again, she found herself staring into the windows of a soul she had grown to know as her own.

Tara leaned up and captured Willow's mouth in a soft and tender kiss. A kiss that communicated both an end and a beginning. She brought her hands up to rest again on Willow's back, now covered in a thin sheen of sweat from her exertions, and gently urged her lover to relax down onto her body.

"I'm not too heavy?" Willow asked quietly, almost childlike, as she brought her arms to curl up around Tara's shoulders.

"Never," Tara whispered back as she closed her eyes, allowing sleep to begin to overtake her, so comfortable and safe was she in this position. "We'll stay warm this way. Is your back cold?" She added as an afterthought, reaching one arm out to the edge of the comforter, and pulling it over them both.

"If I was going to be, I won't be now," was the sleepy reply. Willow smiled tiredly as she felt her wife kiss the top of her head and hold her just a little more tightly. Almost in unison they let out a long steadying breath and fell deep into slumber.

There were no more worries. At least for this night.

The next morning, Tara looked out the front kitchen window to see Morrigan standing patiently on the lawn. She seemed to be eyeing the sky as if she expected something to fall from it, other than rain. After watching the priestess for what must have been ten minutes, the blonde finally got up the nerve to go to the front door and open it, peeking outside.

"What are you doing," Tara asked, adding as an afterthought, "uh… here?"

Slowly Morrigan withdrew her gaze from the heavens and turned her head down toward the wiccan so that her piercing emerald gaze caught hold of Tara's blue, and held it fast for a moment before she began speaking. "Ghaena told me that you are in need of answers," she began, "Answers to questions that only I can answer. Questions about Le Fay."

"That's right," Tara affirmed, wiping her hands on the dishcloth she had tucked into the waistband of her khaki cargo pants. She nudged the door open a little wider with her elbow and gestured to Morrigan. "Come in…"

The ebony-haired woman nodded, and gracefully made her way up the porch steps and into the small house. Tara directed her to the living room sofa. "Can I get you something to drink?" she offered.

"Yes," Morrigan replied, "Perhaps some tea. Earl Grey, if you have it."

"Of course," Tara answered, moving to the kitchen, "Mr. Giles always… that is… we always have some in the cupboard, just in case."

Again Morrigan nodded.

"I'll just start the kettle," the blonde, exiting into the kitchen, "It won't be a moment…" she trailed off as the door shut behind her, pausing to think a minute. Quickly she filled the tea kettle with water and set it on the stove, starting the burner. Then she dashed out the kitchen door that led into the hall, and after another quick turn, she arrived in Willow's office, where the redhead was in deep concentration over her laptop.

"Honey?" Tara asked softly, she hated interrupting her wife when she was working.

"Yeah, baby?" responded Willow, removing the reading glasses from her nose that only she and Tara knew that she wore.

"There's um… there's someone here to see us," Tara broached.

"Who?"

"Morrigan." The blonde answered.

"Le Fay?" Willow yelped, leaping to her feet.

"No, no… not Le Fay," Tara sighed. Again with the confusion, she thought. "Morrigan, Ghaena's friend. She's here. To talk about Le Fay, tell us what she knows."

"Oh," said the redhead, relaxing her stance a little. "Where is she?"

"In the living room, on the couch," Tara explained, "I was making her tea." As if on the cue, the kettle in the kitchen began to whistle. "Which I will serve to her now… coming?"

"I'll be right in," Willow nodded. "Let me just close out this program I've been working on."

Tara slipped back into the kitchen and quickly set about steeping a tea bag in the hot water from the kettle. A few moments later she emerged into the living room with three cups of tea neatly arranged on a small tray, including a little bowl of sugar cubes and a small pitcher of milk. She set it down on the coffee table in front of Morrigan.

"Sugar?" she asked, with only the slightest bit of a squeak in her voice.

"No thank you," the priestess replied, "I take it plain."

Willow entered the room just as Tara had finished handing Morrigan her tea. The redhead dusted imaginary lint off the front of her jeans before sitting down on the love seat next to Tara and opposite the couch.

"So, what do you have to say," she asked rather briskly. Tara patted her knee as both a calming gesture and a warning to be careful. Willow took the hint and rephrased the question, "Uh, I mean… what can you tell us?"

"What questions do you wish to have answered?" Morrigan responded, her eyes twinkling despite their otherwise stoic expression.

"Ghaena told us that you had some dealing with Mor... with Le Fay," stated the blonde, trying to move things along. If Morrigan proved to be as enigmatic as Ghaena, this was going to take a while. "If you could tell us about that?" It was a question and a statement at the same time.

Morrigan took a long sip of her tea, shifted a little on the couch and then set her cup down on the coffee table. She let out a long sigh, and then finally began to speak.

"Ghaena has been secretive with you because she fears that the more you know, the greater danger you will be in," she explained, much to the surprise of her companions. They had not expected to be discussing Ghaena. But they stayed silent, waiting for the woman across from them to continue and perhaps to enlighten them. "I disagree," the priestess said after a moment's pause. "Where is Emily?" she asked suddenly, though her tone remained calm.

"At school," Willow answered, somewhat confused by the impulsive query.

"That's fine," Morrigan nodded, "she should be safe there. Continuing on," she said, returning to her original task. "I shall tell you all that I know of Le Fay… and everything else."

At hearing Morrigan's declaration, both women's ears instantly perked, tuning themselves to the priestess's voice, the better to capture all of the words that were about to pour from her mouth. Tara raised one eyebrow in anticipation and Willow swallowed a semi-audible gulp. Morrigan leaned forward, her elbows on her knees and ducked her head forward toward the pair, her body language making it clear that what she was about to impart was highly secret and for their ears only.

"900 years ago," she began, lowering her voice as though she feared uninvited listeners might hear, "when I was just a small child of six years, I was taken from my mother's arms by Vivienne to Avalon where I would spend the rest of my life in the service of the Goddess. What I did not know at that time was that Vivienne had taken me not only to become a priestess of the Goddess, but also to protect me from a destiny that would cause me to aid in the destruction of Avalon."

Tara and Willow shared a nervous glance. Morrigan quickly moved to allay their silent fears.

"Do not misunderstand me. I was not a willing participant. Avalon was my home. Is my home," she corrected herself as an afterthought. "I was tricked by Le Fay. We all were. Even Vivienne, her own sister, did not realize until it was too late… But I know… she blamed me. Not entirely… but enough that she felt right to keep me from returning to Avalon before it faded into the mists."

"What happened?" asked Tara, "What did you do?"

Morrigan let out a long sigh that communicated loss, regret, shame and weariness all at once. Taking in another breath she explained, "It was Lughnassadh. I was sixteen. It was my first time away from Avalon since I had been taken away from my family. We had ventured to the mainland to celebrate the holiday with the townsfolk. Almost all of the priestesses of the isle were there. Even Ghaena, who was already well over twelve hundred years old, was there with her Elvin wife Gryffldwynn, who we called 'Dwynn' or 'Dwynnie' for short." The priestess paused, smiling at the memory. But then her features darkened once again as she went on. "I had never met Morgan before. Vivienne rarely spoke of her and when she did, it was with hushed voice and only ever to Ghaena.

"I had been drinking mead that night, as we all had, and I remember sitting on a log, staring across the fire at a handsome young man. Or at least, I thought he was handsome, for I could not see his face. He was wearing a mask that hid his features, all of the townspeople were, it was part of the celebration… some sort of custom. All I could see of him was his eyes, and they spoke in volumes.

"Suddenly I felt a presence next to me. I looked up and saw a woman standing by my side. She had jet-black hair, and lavender eyes and she gazed at me as if she could see straight through me. She sat down next to me and glanced across the flames to see what had my attention. 'He's a handsome devil', she said. I nodded. 'Why don't you go up to him then?' she asked. I shook my head, I was too shy. 'Tut, tut', she said, offering me her tankard, 'have a swig of this, that'll give you courage enough.' Something screamed at the back of my mind for me not to take that drink. Something told me that the mead in the vessel was tainted. But as I looked at that young man, all I could see was forever, so on that impulse alone, I took the pint from her and drank. Almost instantly I was filled with a strange warmth and I was overrun with feelings of lust, passion and fire. I wanted him, and I would have him. And I did."

Morrigan paused, the disgrace in her voice evident. She took a moment to collect herself, and then continued on. "When I discovered myself to be with child, I knew it could only be his. Whoever he was. I stole myself from the island one night and returned to the village to inquire of the young man's identity. It was then that I learned, to my horror, that it had been Arthur, the king, and… and my brother."

Tara and Willow both gasped. They had read the stories, the myths and legends, but somehow hearing it first hand, knowing it to be real, changed everything.

"I knew then it had to be ended," the priestess stated firmly, as if resigning herself to the fact all over again. "I sought out the woman who had given me the mead, and found her in a moss-covered cottage at the edge of the forest near the village. I confronted her. Told her that I knew she had tricked me, and that I knew that drink had been cast upon. I demanded that she brew up a potion to end the life growing inside of me. That I would not deliver the bastard child of two siblings who had no way of knowing that they had lain together. Le Fay refused, saying that she would not end the life of an innocent child who could not help how it had been made into this world. Instead she offered me an alternative. She would take custody of the child at its birth and raise it as her own. I asked her how I could disguise the fact that I was carrying such a load. She sent me to a nearby convent, dedicated to the Christian god, and there I hid away. When the time came I delivered the baby boy into Morgan's arms and returned to Avalon as though nothing had happened.

"Eighteen years passed, and the boy grew into a man called Modrid. Under the guidance of his adopted mother, he raised an army against his father, my brother King Arthur. When the battle began, Vivienne confronted me, causing me to confess to what I knew and what I had done. Avalon, the sacred isle, was under the attack of Le Fay and in her battle cry the witch had bragged to Modrid being the flesh of, not only the King, but of his sister as well. Vivienne accused me of betraying her with my silence. And she was right. The walls of Avalon began to crumble, the only chance of its survival was for it disappear into the safety of the mists.

"Amidst the destruction, Ghaena came to me with her and Dwynnie's wee babe Adrianna tucked in her arms. She begged me to rescue their child to the village. That there was a family waiting for her there who would care for her. I remember she said something about destiny and the resurrection of Avalon, but I was so distracted with all that was going on a round me, all I could focus on was fleeing the isle to the mainland and getting Adrianna to the family that awaited her.

"By the time I tried to return home, Arthur was dead, and Avalon had shut its doors to me forever." Morrigan finished her story, sinking back into the couch exhausted as though the telling of it had caused her to relive it all over again.

Well, that's all well and good, Willow thought, But… "Why is Emily in danger?" she asked aloud.

"Do you know why your hair is red?" Morrigan queried.

"No," Willow replied, "You asked me that once before…"

"It's part of what makes you special," the priestess went on, "What makes you both special, and it's why Emily carries the destiny that she has."

"Could you please be a little more specific," Tara begged. She had grown quite tired of answers with more questions.

"Tara, you are descended of Ghaena and Dwynn, two women who came together in love and created life," explained Morrigan, "The same holds true for Willow's ancestry."

The married couple sat back in their seats, trying to absorb what the woman across from them had just revealed.

"You mean…" Willow started, and then paused, and then started again, "You mean Ghaena's my ancestor too?"

"No" Morrigan clarified, "Though she did have a hand in your ancestors coming together. Two thousand years ago, Ghaena was sent on a quest, during which time she traveled with a bard…"

"She told us," Tara interjected, trying to get the priestess to skip ahead a little.

"Did she tell you who the bard was?" Morrigan asked.

"Not exactly," Willow answered.

"She was the former lover of a female warrior who had been known throughout the land as a righter of wrongs and protector of innocents. I say former because by the time Ghaena met her, the warrior was two years dead." Morrigan illuminated. "Ghaena's quest was to deliver a message to the bard. Or, so this was what she discovered. But she discovered it thirty years too late, because the message was not only for the bard, but for the warrior as well. Ghaena offered to sacrifice her immortality in order to travel back in time and deliver the message to the warrior and bard together. The Goddess granted her request and Ghaena delivered the message, which was in fact a blessing. The warrior and bard came together and created life. And from that life, Willow, you are descended."

"So Emily is the completion of some sort of circle?" Tara surmised questioningly.

"Yes," Morrigan confirmed.

"Why does Le Fay want to hurt her?" Willow inquired.

"The restoration of Avalon will bring about her destruction," the priestess answered, "She'll do anything to stop it. She has spent the last millennia tracking down your ancestors and systematically trying to kill them. Luckily, Ghaena has always been a step ahead of her and was there in time to ensure the continuation of the two blood lines."

"Did…did Le Fay kill my real mother?" Willow asked hesitantly.

Morrigan lowered her head sadly. "Yes," she said, "She disguised herself as a hospital nurse. Thank Goddess Ghaena was able to save you in time before the blood poisoning cost both of your lives."

Willow blinked back a sudden rush of tears. Tara took her wife's hand and held it close against her thigh, gently massaging Willow's knuckles with her thumb.

"How do we figure out who Morgan is?" Tara queried, feeling Willow squeeze her hand more tightly.

"It's hard to say," Morrigan admitted. "She can take on the shape of anyone she wishes. Including us, your friends, enemies, total strangers… anyone. But there are clues."

Tara and Willow leaned in, anxious to hear anything that would help them to keep their precious daughter safe.

"Firstly, she rarely works alone," the priestess noted, "she will have spies of birds, beasts and man. Though she can steal other's faces, she tends to let her minions do most of the work, and when you do meet her, she will appear to have no aura, or her aura will be difficult to read."

"Why does she hide if she can be anyone she wants?" Willow asked.

"Mostly thanks to Ghaena," Morrigan explained, "for she can see through Le Fay's tricks. And inevitably, every time Le Fay has disguised herself as a friend or family member, the victims figure it out. So with the tight-knit family you both have, it would be too much of a risk to her discovery."

"Why wouldn't Ghaena tell us any of this?" The blonde had to ask, she needed to understand why they had been kept so much in the dark.

"Ghaena has always worked in shadow. She believes that sometimes having information can be more dangerous than lacking it. She was only doing what she believed to be best. Don't be angry with her. She loves Emily and fears for her safety. The more powerful the child becomes, the closer we all are to the restoration of Avalon and with that the danger to her well-being increases."

Willow and Tara nodded gravely, their understanding complete.

"Emily?" Miss Henckle said, catching the young girl's attention as she was headed off to lunch.

"Yes, ma'am?" The small redhead replied eagerly.

"Would you mind eating your lunch in here and helping me with a few things?" the teacher asked.

"Sure!" Emily answered happily, always enjoying the feeling of being "teacher's pet".

"Excellent," Ms. Henckle smiled.

"Here," said Ms. Henckle as she picked up a stack of papers and crossed from her desk to where Emily was sitting. "These are the multiple choice quizzes the English class took yesterday. The answer form is on top, could you grade them for me while I work on the essays everyone turned in today?"

"Yes, ma'am!" Emily answered excitedly, wiggling a little in her seat as she took the paperwork.

"Great," smiled the teacher as she moved back toward the front of the classroom. "Let me know if you can't read my handwriting."

"Okay," the young girl replied, settling in to the task at hand.

"It's possible she's already made herself known to you," stated Morrigan, taking a sip of tea.

"How would we know?" asked Tara. Willow had momentarily left to the room to check on Michelle. "I mean, other than what you've already told us."

"Any number of ways," the priestess said thoughtfully. "Someone new. Someone who's taken an interest in Emily, or even the entire family. It could even be someone that Emily trusts. Le Fay is excellent at earning the trust of children. She's a trickster."

"How are you coming along?" queried the teacher, looking up from her papers to check on her student.

"I can't read the answer to number fifteen," Emily responded honestly. "Is it an 'A'? or a 'D'?"

Ms. Henckle gracefully stood from her desk and crossed over and behind Emily, so that when she bent down, her face was quite close to the small redhead's ear. She paused a moment, examining the look of intense concentration in profile on Emily's face, before glancing noncommittally to the paper in front of her.

"It's a 'D'," she answered, standing back up a little.

"It is?" Emily questioned, scrunching her eyebrows together a little.

"Yes," stated the teacher.

"But… that doesn't make sense… answer-wise, I mean," she clarified quickly.

"Why not?"

"The question is, 'What is wrong with this sentence?' and then it says, 'To boldly go where no one has gone before.'" Emily read aloud.

"Yes?" said Miss Henckle, urging her pupil to go on.

"Well, answer 'D' says, 'Incorrect use of identifying pronouns'," Emily concluded, "That's not right. That isn't what is wrong with the sentence."

"Alright then, what is wrong with the sentence?"

"Um, I think it's letter 'A'," the girl answered, "it says, 'Split infinitive'. In order for the sentence to be correct it should read, 'To go boldly' and not 'To boldly go'. Right?"

"If you knew the answer, why did you ask?" inquired Ms. Henckle.

Emily felt herself getting a little nervous. Maybe she had overstepped her bounds in challenging her teacher. "Um… because your cursive 'D's' look a lot like your cursive 'A's' and I wanted to make sure?"

"Such a good girl," Ms. Henckle smiled strangely. "Always doing everything so carefully. Checks and balances."

Now Emily found herself experiencing a feeling she had never felt in her life when it came to any of her teachers. Fear. Suddenly Ms. Henckle's close proximity gave the small girl a terrified chill that went down her spine.

Willow re-entered the living room with Michelle tucked into one arm and a bottle of expressed milk in her free hand. "What about that Pat lady?" Asked Willow as she sat down again next to her wife. "I mean, she didn't earn anyone's trust. But it was kind of weird how she just showed up at Emily's birthday. Plus, the whole, 'I'm a bigoted bitch' didn't play too well in her favor."

"It is possible that she is a spy for Le Fay," Morrigan conceded, "But doubtful the woman herself. No. I mean someone that Emily really trusts. Looks up to or has faith in."

"A lot of people fit that profile," Tara replied, "Buffy, Xander, Giles…"

"Outside of your immediate family and friends?" the priestess inquired, trying to narrow it down.

"Oh, well… um… her teachers," stated Willow. "She's always looked up to her teachers. Especially Ms. Henckle…" The redhead drifted off, her mind suddenly racing. "Who was very interested in Emily's magick lessons."

"And who brought her to the attention of the guidance counselor," Tara added, growing increasingly alarmed.

"So that she could skip a grade and still," her lover went on.

"Be in her class," they finished together as they both rose to their feet in terror.

"So it's the teacher?" Morrigan cut-in, trying to clarify the conclusion the married couple had come to.

"Yes, it has to be," panicked Tara, "Oh God, she's at school with her right now. Willow?!" She turned to her wife seeking some sort of answer.

"I'll call Buffy," stated Willow, now is full Scooby mode. "She can get there faster. She's listed as one of Emily's emergency contacts, so she should be able to get her out of class." As she was speaking, she handed Michelle carefully to Tara and lifted the telephone out of its cradle, beginning to dial. "Use the fax machine in the office to call Anya, tell her we need her to baby-sit Michelle…"

"What about your mom?" Tara asked.

Willow paused only a spilt second to think as she listened to Buffy's phone ring on the other end of the line. "You're right, mom's closer. But we don't want her to panic," suddenly the sound of the phone being answered took Willow's attention. "Hello, Buffy?… Oh, Dawn… Dawn is Buffy there?… It's an emergency… Emily might be in danger…It'll take too long to explain, is she there?… Where is she?… Xander's worksite? Good that's right next to the school. Does Xander have his cell on him?… Fine. How quickly can you get over here?… We need someone to baby-sit Michelle…That's fine, just get here. Bye." Willow quickly turned her focus back to Tara as she now started to dial Xander's number. "Dawn is on her way here, Buffy is with Xander, I'm calling him now."

"Good," Tara said, breathing a little… but only a little.

"Morrigan?" Willow started to say as she turned her attention back to where the priestess had been standing, but now found the space to be vacant. "Morrigan?" she called out, "Morrigan! Where did she go?"

Tara could only shrug, the priestess had been there just a moment before. "Maybe she's gone after Le Fay," she offered.

"Hello, Xander?" Willow said, acknowledging Tara's words with a quick nod. "Let me talk to Buffy. Now!"

"Um… I think I can read your writing okay now, Ms. Henckle," Emily stated uneasily, hoping the words would get her teacher to move away from her side.

"Tell me something, Emily," said Ms. Henckle, sitting back against the desk beside the young girl. "What do you like to do for fun?"

"Fun?" Emily asked with trepidation.

"In your free time," the older woman clarified.

"R-read mostly," the petite redhead answered, tensing her jaw at the sound of her own stuttering.

"What do you read?"

"Books."

Ms. Henckle chuckled a little at the innocent answer. "What sort of books?"

"All kinds," Emily replied, doing her best to keep her voice from squeaking and her tongue from tripping. Please make her go away, she thought desperately, please, please, please. I want my mommy. That's when an idea struck her brain.

"Magic books?" Ms. Henckle offered, trying to get her favorite student to open up a little.

"Um…" Mommy!, she screamed out with her mind.

Concluded in Part 4...

Send Feedback to Author

Back to DarkWiccan's Stories...