William gestured to her, “You saying you won’t let the ghosts run you out of here. That sounds like a determined woman to me.”
“Yeah, well…” she muttered and gathered up the shredded paint samples and carpets. She stalked out of the room, bellowing for Edina.
What was she up to now? William wondered and followed her. He was beginning to feel like a lap dog at this point. Edina met her downstairs, looking frazzled and startled. William didn’t blame her. He’d never seen Buffy this riled up before.
“Did you do this?” she demanded shoving shreds in her face.
Edina stared at her demanding and irate mistress. “What?”
“I found these, torn to shreds. Did you do it?”
“Miss, no, I would never—“
“Then who did it?”
“I – I am sure I don’t know. No one here I can assure you.” She looked over at William and Buffy followed her gaze to him.
“He hasn’t, and he wouldn’t,” Buffy snapped. “I’m going out.”
“Where are you going, Miss?” Edina asked, concerned. “Are you sure you’re in a state to drive?”
“I’m fine,” Buffy shouted over her shoulder, grabbing her keys of the table in the foyer, and sliding her feet into her sandals.
William rushed after her. His girl was on a mission, but to where?
“Just go away, William. Let me handle this on my own, all right?” she said as she made her way to her car.
“If it’s all the same to you, Buffy, I’d prefer to go. I’ll drive.”
“Look,” she said spinning to him. “I have put up with your presence here thus far—“
“You’ve done nothing of the sort!” he protested.
“But I don’t need you watching over me anymore, you got it? There are some things I can do by myself. You want to stay and make sure I don’t harm myself, fine, fucking do it. I don’t give a shit anymore. But I do need some space before I do kill myself, all right? Back off, William.”
He held up his hands, “Backing off. Where are you going? Tell me that at least.”
“I’m going to see Tara. Don’t tell Edina, got it?”
“Got it. Loud and clear.”
“Thank you.”
Buffy couldn’t really say why she didn’t want Edina to know she was going to see her niece, but something inside her told her not to let her know, so she went with it. Her stomach was in knots, but her anger far outweighed her nerves. She supposed her nerves would give way once she’d settled, and then she’d have to ponder what the ghosts were doing and why; and if she was in any immediate danger.
She was thinking they weren’t as friendly as Tara had claimed they were. That had been a downright hostile act, tearing up those samples. She’d surpassed being kind at this point; she’d surpassed trying to make nice and be patient about the fact that perhaps they were just paying her back for being so contradictory to them.
Buffy was downright pissed now.
Everything just came to a head for her in that instant. Her parents, William, Dru, having to talk about her parents, her feelings, her anger, her dread, her fear…all of the shit that had been deep down inside her throughout the night before and the day had surfaced in that one moment and she’d reached the end of her tether.
She was fucking tired of feeling like a rag doll, shoved and pushed and bent in all sorts of directions. She was tired of the ghosts being uncommunicative, she was tired of William’s asking her for more than she could give, she was tired of Dru meddling from beyond the grave, she was tired of trying to make nice with Edina and she was tired of hearing her parent’s voice in her head.
In fact, she was so tired; she felt she was going to scream.
And so she did. Right in the car, on the way to Tara’s shop, Buffy screamed at the top of her lungs.
It felt fantastic. All of that had been building up for quite some time and the release was heavenly; sweet. Dare she admit: Empowering? It certainly wasn’t something she normally did.
She’d driven by Tara’s shop one day, just to bookmark it in her brain where she was, so she found it with ease, and even if she didn’t, she’d hunt until she did find it. She wanted answers; she wanted to know what to do next. She’d had it with them.
Parking in a public parking lot, Buffy made her way down a narrow cobblestoned path where shop after shop were lined up; all begging for entrance.
She stopped when she saw it. Or rather, as she was seeing, where it had been once upon a time. It was boarded up. Closed off. The sign was gone; there was nothing in the window. It had been cleared out.
It had been there just days before. What had happened? What the hell had happened?
“Such a shame isn’t it?” A voice behind her said.
She spun and found a young woman with blond hair; blue eyes and a nose ring, shaking her head and looking up at where the sign used to be.
“What happened to it?” Buffy asked. “Do you know?”
“The owner had to close down. She told me business wasn’t doing well and she could no longer afford to pay the rent. I don’t see how that was possible since each time I’d been in there; it was always swarmed with people. This was the only witch shop in town. The next one isn’t for miles,” the girl explained.
Buffy felt a chill cover her. Something was wrong. Something didn’t fit. “Do you know her? Tara, I mean. The owner?”
The girl looked stunned, “No, do you?”
“I did . . . I met her once. She helped me with some things…” Buffy trailed off, rubbing the back of her neck. “You wouldn’t happen to know where she lives then, I take it?”
The girl narrowed her eyes, “No, and even if I did, how do I know you didn’t meant to hurt her?”
Buffy sighed, “You don’t know that.”
“Right. Good day then.”
Turning back to the shop, Buffy thought fast. Now what? She didn’t know her last name, how the hell was she going to find her?
Feeling at a loss, Buffy headed back to the heart of the town. She was going to find a pub and a phonebook. Maybe, just maybe, Tara had the same last name as her aunt. Or maybe, just maybe, someone knew her and could help Buffy find the girl.
William had to wonder about Buffy’s insistence that Edina not know where she was going. So when the woman asked, and nearly scolded him for not going with her, William had snapped at her to mind her own business. Edina had huffed and marched off, clearly offended.
Taking the steps two at a time, William started going into the empty rooms, just to see. Room after room after room, he was met with all the same: Samples torn to shreds.
William didn’t like this, didn’t like it one bit. It had to be the ghosts, right? It had to be—who else if not Edina would have done it? The other workers would have no care to do anything of the sort. Just the same though, to cover all bases, he was going to question each and every one, and then, then when he was convinced that it hadn’t been the living that had done it, he was going to have a chat with Buffy about getting a priest and getting the goddamned ghosts out of her house.
Until then, all he could do was wait for his girl to come back.