“Tara you are a demon, your mother was a ..”

“Shut up dad!” My hand moved on its own and there was a blinding flash and than…

It had been the day of my mom’s funeral, I had not left my room since I had left her side at the hospital mere minutes after she had died. I had been holding her hand when she died, I kept holding it even when the doctor raced in and tried to push me aside. I knew it was too late though, no crash paddles would bring her back… Mom was dead.

It had been strange watching her die, almost beautiful. Her breathing became light, no longer strained, her eye opened real wide and the shine seemed to escape like a fine mist over a body of water. Thank her hand went limp and her eyes closed as her life drained away. She was dead, I could see her spirit rise and hover a bit before floating off.

“Mom” I cried than and later when I was alone in my room. She was dead and I was all alone in the world. Well not really, I had my dad but he always made it worse. He wanted me to hate my mom, to hate myself. He told me time and time again I was probably not even his daughter.

I could only take so much of it though, the yelling, the name-calling. My mother was dead and he was calling her a …

I lost control and before I knew what I did he was dead… I had killed my father.

Everyone knew what I had done but no one would admit it. So they just treated me the same way they treated a pregnant girl, they sent me away. I was sent to my Mom’s sister in Sunnydale. I had decided that when I got there I would start a new life, no more magik, no more letting myself get close to people. I had done enough damage for a lifetime. I would just go to class and sit in the back and hope no one noticed me.. I just wanted to disappear.

I walked into my classroom; a blonde haired woman popped up from one of the small tables and looks at me like someone just caught in the act. What act, I could not really say, she appeared though to have been talking, or trying to at least, to Sid. I walked over to her to ask why she was here and whom she was when she offered up this information on her own.

“Ms. Mclay, Hi, sorry to just show up like this. I am Susan Newton, Sid’s social worker. I hope you got the note; I am going to observe the class today. See how Sid fits in, works with other children.” I nodded; I had gotten a memo the other day but had forgotten to read it. I was too embarrassed to admit to it though.

“Y-you may call me Tara.” I said noticing the way the woman clutched her briefcase a little too tightly. “H-how about you sit in that chair in the corner.” I said pointing to the wooden chair I used during story time. Susan nodded and eagerly walked back there to take a seat.

“Ok class.” I said to the small sea of wide eyed kindergarteners “take out your writing pads, we are going to practice penmanship in silence for twenty minutes and than I will read you a short story.” I notice Susan pull out a yellow legal pad and start to jot down notes using her brief case as a witting surface. I smiled at her and than start to walk through the room examining the tiny awkward script as the children try there hardest to make their ABC’s look like the ones printed on the page.

I tried to ignore the social worker but it was hard to miss her tossing glances at Sid as he carefully printed nearly perfect letters on his page. She was not just observing him; she was gazing at him with an intenseness that made me rather nervous.

She did this through most of the class day; in fact she probably would not have stopped had she not been paged away for an emergency of some sorts. I would not have thought much about it if she had not left something behind, a small business card must have slipped from her briefcase. I found it under the rocking chair as I cleaned up the classroom at the end of the day, a small white card with simple black script.

“Wolfram and Hart?” I muttered to myself as I stared at the card.. this was odd.