This chapter takes place when Tara was around six...I gave the name Anna to her mother and Joseph to her father.

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy. Duh. I wouldn't have killed off Tara if I did.

The shy young girl sobbed quietly, her tearful face buried in her knees. Violent sobs echoed hers as her father, Joseph Maclay, screamed insults and curses at her shy mother. The shelves around her started to shake wildly, as her own anger manifested itself into telekinesis. Her mother had been teaching her to control it, but it was hard in situations like this; at only six years old, the girl had so much to deal with.

A few hours later and the last remnants of weeping swept over the child, who gasped and sniffled, wiping her wet nose. Her mother was bent over, cleaning the mess around her.

"Tara, honey, it's okay. You know your father…he just gets…angry, sometimes. It's okay, really it is," Anna, her mother, smiled. Tara's eyes traveled to the bruise on her face. Anna quickly took her hand to her cheek, and, grinning weekly, said: "Oh…I walked into the corner of the shelf. Silly me, huh?" She tickled her daughter's stomach, spreading a weak smile across her shy face. "Don't you cry...you have such pretty doe eyes," Anna said.

"Mommy, I didn't mean to move things..." Tara said, frowning as she stared at the books and broken glass around her. She slowly reached for them, and then paused. "But, Mommy, can't you just…do magic? You know…like a spell?" she said, motioning her arms towards the mess.

Anna shook her head. "Tara, darling, this is very important. You should never, ever misuse magic. Sometimes, things like this…you just, you have to do the work naturally…nature never intended us to use magic for simple household cleaning," Anna said wisely. "You have to know when to use it; to help, or to heal-" she rested her hand on her cheek again, and this time a swirl of light enveloped it as the bruise disappeared-"but magic shouldn't always be used for the witch's convenience."

Tara frowned again, this time in concentration. "But, Mommy, why didn't you use it to stop Daddy? I saw him hit you, why couldn't you make him quit yelling?" she asked innocently.

Anna drew her eyes to the floor, avoiding her daughter's sweet gaze. "Well, honey…listen, why don't I tuck you in, it's getting late," she said, as she picked Tara up and nestled her into her powder blue blankets, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Ok, Mommy. I love you!" Tara said, as she reached for her worn stuffed animal horse.

Anna smiled sincerely, and replied softly : "I love you, too, Tara."