Blinking against the glare, Buffy slowly raised her hands. Unbelievable. In four years of Slaying, she'd run into the cops twice. And one of those had actually been a demon plot to kill her.

Giles stepped forward while Buffy cursed her bad luck. "I'm so sorry. My name is Rupert Giles, and I was the librarian at the old Sunnydale High School." His voice was more clipped and British than Buffy had ever heard it. Not to mention Giles sounded like a complete airhead as he continued. "I didn't mean to cause a ruckus. When I heard the new school was about to open, I thought perhaps I should pop in and see if some of my special research books had survived the explosion."

"Do not move! Stay where you are." The voice emanating from the lights wasn't amused by Giles' lame explanation. "You are all under arrest. Get down on your knees and lace your fingers behind your head."

One by one, each of the Scoobies followed the order. Buffy was the last. She helped Tara into the required position and waited long enough to make sure Tara wouldn't collapse. Then, with a final impotent glare, she joined the rest of the gang on the ground. The thin grass was cool and wet against her jeans and quickly seeped through the denim. Her arms trembled with fatigue in seconds.

"Might I inquire into the charges?" Giles didn't know when to shut up. They'd broken into the school. It didn't take a genius to figure out why the police were arresting them.

There was no answer. Not even another impatient reminder to stay frozen. The figures standing in the blaze of what Buffy finally realized were floodlights mounted on the top of several large vehicles didn't move. And that lack of movement bothered her.

If they were under arrest, why didn't the cops put them in handcuffs?

Without moving her head, Buffy peered into the lights. Squinting helped a little. Five men stood between the Scoobies and the police vehicles. Only…there was no Sunnydale PD logo on the doors.

Had anyone else noticed? "Faith!" Buffy hissed. "Not cops." Her voice was barely more than a breath.

And it was still enough. "Who?" Faith's response was equally soft.

Buffy didn't know. She had had a lifetime of fighting unknown enemies. It just so happened that she'd already defeated one that night. And he'd been a lot scarier than the worthless Sunnydale police department. The long night, the lingering fear of failure and death, pushed her over the edge. Buffy dropped her hands and stood in one smooth motion.

Two steps put her close enough to see more than the outline of men. She saw guns and uniforms. Not the dark blue uniforms of Sunnydale's finest, though. These were camouflaged, like Riley's. "You're not cops!"

One of the soldiers moved. He was different than the rest. Two tiny silver bird insignias rested on the shoulders of his crisply ironed jacket and a patch with what looked like a crossed sword and lightning bolt marked the left sleeve. "As far as this town is concerned, we are the police. And when you and your friends are arrested and shipped to a federal prison, no one will question our actions."

That was true. No one in Sunnydale asked questions. Too bad for Bird Man that Buffy wasn't going to let his plan work. "Sorry. I don't look good in orange." As Buffy spoke, Faith took a spot at her shoulder. Perfect. With absolute conviction – and not a little anger – Buffy addressed the man again. "Here's the way this works. You and your goons are going to get in your cars and drive away. You won't go back to the tunnels. You won't take any research notes. And you won't come back again."

The quad was completely silent now. Bird Man glared, his body stiff under his uniform. "Take them into custody," the man snapped. The pretense was over. He stalked toward Buffy as camouflaged men emerged from the shadows. Each of them carried a rifle at the ready. As the soldiers formed a circle around the kneeling Scoobies, pairs of men broke off and slung their weapons across their shoulders. Handcuffs flashed in the vehicle lights.

Handcuffs. Plain old handcuffs.

Buffy's momentary hoped flamed – and then dampened. There were too many men, too many guns. These weren't Walsh's troops; every weapon was raised and trained on a Scooby. Still mentally scrambling for an escape plan, Buffy jumped when hands roughly grabbed her arms, forcing them behind her back.

A gasp and muffled groan tore from Faith as she received similar treatment.

Cold metal wrapped around Buffy's right wrist. The click as it closed was a stark interruption of the purring vehicle engines. Another click and Buffy's left wrist was immobilized. She knew one quick pull would break the connecting chain. In a heartbeat, she could be free.

The knowledge didn't chase away the fear that had her knees on the verge of giving out.

Like sheep, the Scoobies were shepherded toward the vehicles in a single-file line. Buffy watched their progress from the rear. Giles was ramrod straight, lips a thin line of anger. Willow continually stumbled as she tried to check on Faith instead of paying attention to the terrain.

The murmur of far off voices didn't interrupt her vigil. Buffy's arms went taut and the handcuffs squeaked a protest when a soldier roughly shoved a dazed Tara. She took a step in their direction before the soldier to her left jabbed his rifle into the small of the back.

"Colonel!" The surreal silence shattered at the sudden shout. The soldiers herding the Scoobies froze.

Bird Man, the Colonel, whipped around toward the voice.

"The base…Reports…" Even the man's uniform looked pale. "The USTs broke free as Team Two began cleanup procedures." Buffy didn't know what a UST was, but from the man's reaction, it wasn't a good thing.

The Colonel didn't look pleased, either. "How many?"

Everyone in the quad hung on the slow-to-arrive answer. "All of them, sir."

"USTs…" Buffy stepped away from her captors. "You mean the demons and vampires you've been keeping in the tunnels under the campus." It was the only logical explanation. "Do you even know what you've done? What they're capable of?"

With a pinch-faced expression that would have done Giles' proud, the Colonel stated, "This is not your concern." He gestured impatiently toward the vehicles. "Load them up. Now!" Clearly finished with Buffy, he turned away. "Sergeant, radio Sector Command and have reinforcements sent in. I want all trace of the USTs and the Initiative wiped out using any means necessary."

"You fool!" Giles must have been reading Buffy's thoughts – although, his comment was nicer than what hovered on her lips. "What are you planning to do? Shoot your way through the throng of demons?"

The Colonel didn't answer verbally, but the way he shifted and cleared his throat gave him away.

It was time to put the Colonel in his place. Bunching her muscles, Buffy yanked her hands apart in one explosive movement. The handcuff chains snapped as if they'd been made with paper. "Call your tools off, Colonel, and get out of Sunnydale. You don't understand what goes on here, and you can't handle the mess you've made."

"Ms. Summers…" Military discipline disappeared as the Colonel lost his cool.

"Save it for someone who cares." With a sudden surge of Slayer speed, Buffy grabbed the gun from the soldier behind her and jabbed the butt into his stomach. He doubled at the same time that she turned and met the Colonel's eyes. In a move she'd used one other time to display her super strength, Buffy bent the metal from its stiff, straight line into a mangled pretzel of twisted parts. "This is our town. Take your toy soldiers and get out. Leave the clean up to the professionals."

Buffy's order was sheer bravado. She was beyond tired and had used the last of her strength on the gun. Faith was in no shape to fight her way free, and Willow had been running on fumes for hours.

She'd forgotten Tara. In a soft voice, she spoke a few words and the quad lit up like Tara had turned on the sun.

When the light faded, Buffy acted as if that level of magic was normal – and that her eyes weren't watering from the glare. "Next time, I'll have her blow up a few of your Jeeps. Maybe melt a few of your guns," she said with shameless exaggeration.

The Colonel bought her lie. His air of command nearly gone, he staggered toward one of the vehicles. "Pull out!"

In a rush, the soldier broke and ran for safety. Seconds later, they were gone.

"Think the bastard coulda at least left the fuckin' handcuff keys," Faith muttered.

Nearly asleep on her feet, Buffy leaned against the doorframe as she gracelessly jammed her key in the lock. After a brief struggle, she managed to unlock the door and stumble inside.

"Buffy!" Tara was next to her in a flash, ducking under Buffy's left arm and supporting her all the way to Buffy's bed. "What happened?"

"Ran into the last of Walsh's pet demons." God, the bed felt so good. It had been weeks since she'd gotten more than a couple hours of sleep at a time And, as an added bonus, it was Friday night. There were no classes to attend in a near-coma state. "Big surprise; they were still mad about their time in Demon Jail."

So mad they'd rushed her all at once. It had been touch and go for a few minutes.

"You need to rest, Buffy." Gentle hands went to work on the buttons of her shirt. Tara slipped the blood-stained and torn garment off Buffy's shoulders and then helped her lay flat on the mattress. Boots were pulled off and Buffy's pants were removed.

With a soft sigh, Buffy relaxed. "Thanks, Tara." The words didn't seem like enough. Tara had been there for her all week, waiting up with food, conversation, bandages… Whatever Buffy needed at the end of her patrol. She reached for Tara's hand. "Why are you still here?" She'd asked the question every night and never received an answer.

It was no different this time. "Shh, Buffy. Just go to sleep."

Buffy craved sleep, but she needed to know even more. Forcing her eyes open, she peered up at Tara.

Cheeks lightly flushed, Tara didn't meet Buffy's eyes.

Not because she hid behind her hair as usual. Not because she was dodging Buffy's determined stare.

No. Tara watched Buffy's chest rise and fall with each breath. Watched with a clear mixture of guilt and pleasure.

Now Buffy's cheeks burned. So did her nipples – which hardened in response to Tara's gaze. Buffy froze and her breathing quickened just like it had when she'd been Cave Buffy and tackled Tara in her mother's kitchen. Only Buffy wasn't drunk on bespelled beer right now.

Trying to make sense of everything, Buffy gripped Tara's hands. "Tara?" What was it Tara had said while she'd wrestled with Cave Buffy and a washcloth? Something about needing a shower.

A cold shower.

Her grip tightened on Tara's fingers.

Tara must have noticed Buffy's physical reaction and misread it. "You're cold, sweetie." Retrieving her hands, she dragged the sheet and comforter from under Buffy's feet and pulled them both all the way up to Buffy's chin. "Good night, sweetie." On her way across the short space between their beds, she turned off the lamp on the nightstand, plunging the room into darkness.

Plunging Buffy further into confusion.

Tara couldn't…hadn't been… Had she? And why did the answers matter so much to Buffy?

THE END