CHAPTER 55
The Scythe tried to resist as Buffy jogged away from the last of the vampires. This time, Buffy was ready. Using a touch of the Slayer, she mentally shoved at the visceral need pouring from the weapon in her hands. Years of caging her more primal instincts helped. With a howl of protest, the Scythe retreated.
Minutes later, the van came into view. The side door was open and the dim interior lighting revealed bodies sprawled inside. Frowning, Buffy peered harder – and her pace picked up despite the pain in her injured thigh. “Faith!”
The other Slayer turned her head and waved a tired acknowledgement. “Get in, B. You can bug me with questions on the way back. Kirstan needs more’n bandages and kisses, and Wes’s got his lead foot on the gas.”
As soon as Faith spoke, Buffy zeroed in on Kirstan. She was pale, and blood visibly stained a torn shirt that had been expertly tied diagonally across her body. “Got it. Just make sure I’m close to a handle. The last time I was in a van with a Watcher behind the wheel…” Forcing a grin as they shared a look at the troubling memories, Buffy carefully clambered into the back and wedged herself against the far side. “Let’s just say I was really hoping you felt the bruises the next day.”
For a second, Buffy was sure Faith flinched at the comment. She must have been mistaken, though, because as Angel took a seat next to Tara and Drew, Faith smirked. “You havin’ an out of Buffy day, B?” she asked as she slammed the sliding door and flopped into a sitting position as the tires squealed.
They were quiet for the next few minutes, and Buffy felt her muscles slowly relaxing – until she realized there was a Scooby missing. “Where’s Spike?”
Everyone froze, except to look away.
“Faith?” Buffy’s hands tightened around the Scythe, and she leaned forward. “Where. Is. Spike?” In case she’d mumbled the first time, Buffy clearly enunciated the question when she repeated it.
***
“He’s dust, B.” Faith couldn’t meet Buffy’s eyes; although, she managed to keep her voice mostly steady. “There was some fucker crawlin’ outta Hell, and I didn’t have time to cut him loose.” The scar on her stomach ached dully, and Faith absently rubbed it. “Think he knew it was comin’,” she finished, hoping that would help.
Buffy didn’t say anything, and Faith forced herself to glance up. A single tear streaked down Buffy’s face. “Spike was a Scooby.”
Four simple words, yet Faith felt each one pound into her. “Yeah, B; he was.” Scoobies didn’t die. It was the first rule of the Slayerettes, and Faith had broken it. Straightening her shoulders and raising her chin, Faith met Buffy’s eyes. “I had to kill him, B. It was the only way.” Chills raced over Faith’s skin when Buffy’s gaze mutated from hazel to a burning copper.
“I thought we were going to save him,” Buffy said.
“No.” The disagreement squeaked out of Faith’s tight throat. “You mighta wanted that, B. Too bad the real job was keepin’ the rest of us alive and closin’ that fucking Seal. Spike was – maybe – a bonus.” Faith took a slow breath. Buffy’s Slayer hadn’t backed down, and a warning tingle highlighted the growing unhappiness of her own primal warrior. Fuck. Gritting her teeth and holding onto control, Faith snapped, “Be pissed if ya’ want, B, and then get over it. Spike’s dust. The Hellmouth’s closed. We won this time.”
The mundane sound of road noise and late night traffic was suddenly loud inside the van. Faith trembled with pent up adrenaline as she waited for Buffy’s response. “Spike wasn’t…” Buffy’s eyes dropped, letting Faith out of the spotlight of the Slayer’s gaze. “He wasn’t helping, was he?”
Faith sagged. “No, B.” She remembered the look in his eyes as she’d raised the dagger. “Spike was a Scoob, fangs and all. Got fuckin’ pushy when he thought I didn’t have the balls to do the deed.”
“Thanks,” Buffy whispered, and Faith wasn’t sure for what.
“B-Buffy?” Tara interrupted their not so private conversation. “How d-did you and Ang-Angel do? Is th-that the Scythe?” She pointed at the double-headed axe in Buffy’s lap.
As if sensing the sudden interest of everyone in the van, Buffy held up the weapon. “Yeah.” She paused, and Faith (along with the rest of the gang) leaned in, hoping for more. “It’s great for killing vamps. I think we took out most of the First’s army tonight.”
There was something Buffy wasn’t saying, though. Faith knew it. Or…her Slayer did. A tickle brushed along the edges of Faith’s awareness. It was light, barely noticeable. It was enough, though, to bring the Slayer fully awake. Bracing against the sensation and the spiking aggression deep inside, Faith asked, “That’s it? You and Red shared that fucking weird dream, and all it does is dust vamps?” Her voice faded to a near growl at the end; the Slayer was winning the internal battle for control.
“The van isn’t big enough for sparring, ladies.” Kirstan’s voice might have been a mere wisp of sound; however, the bite was loud and clear. “Stop playing with the Slayers and start thinking!”
Faith turned her head and felt the Slayer snarl at Kirstan’s intrusion. “Kinda hard to do that, Old Timer, with the grunting and growlin’ in my head. You got a way to make the bitch back down?” She was more than happy to listen, if that was the case.
Kirstan didn’t have a chance to answer. “Don’t fight her, Faith.” Buffy smiled slightly when Faith looked at her in disbelief. “I know. I’m the original ‘Keep the Slayer Locked Up Girl.’ I’ve turned over a new leaf, and it isn’t as scary as I thought.”
“Sounds good, B, but you was right there with me a second ago,” Faith pointed out. She could still feel the pull of her Slayer, and she sensed the incredible strength of Buffy’s.
Amazingly, Buffy shook her head. “No, I wasn’t. I’m betting it was the Scythe. It’s…Let’s just say it has a mind of its own, and it doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer without a fight. When I grabbed it the first time, there was so much power. I couldn’t handle it on my own so I let the Slayer help me. She’s been there ever since.”
“If I could raise my arms without bleeding to death, I’d clap,” Kirstan commented dryly. “That’s the way it’s supposed to work, ladies. We’ll stick Faith in a room with the Scythe and her Slayer later. Right now, we need to refocus. Why the dream? What are we missing?” Her voice faded away, and her breathing grew more labored.
Fighting off the need to crawl to Kirstan’s side and check to make sure she stayed alive, Faith dragged her eyes back to Buffy. “You and Red told us about the axe, B. What about the rest?”
“I don’t know.” Buffy leaned against the side of the van and chewed her lip. “The other two parts were more the normal Slayer dream weird. Unless I’m supposed to poison the First with a Doublemeat Medley…” She trailed off and gave Faith a helpless look. “I don’t know. Anybody else have any ideas?”
“Not about Willow and spilled soda,” Drew murmured. “The Mass, though.” She sat forward at the same time Tara’s eyes widened. “I think we may have a little more information about that part.”
***
Dawn scowled, clearly not happy with Willow’s comment. “You’re the only one here who can do magic, Willow. I only got the intro lesson.”
Holding on to her patience with a tight grip, Willow disagreed. “No, Dawnie. The magic is inside you. I wasn’t able,” or willing, “to teach you how to manipulate it. If you work with me, though, we can pool our energies and raise a ward around the ranch house.” At least, Willow hoped it would work that way. The thought of dipping so heavily into her reservoirs – after what had happened earlier – scared her.
“Oh.” Dawn appeared to mull that over. “I did that with Tara when…when she and Faith got to Sunnydale.”
Willow itched with curiosity at that. Tara had never been one to do magic without cause. She didn’t have time to probe for answers, though. “Just like that,” she told Dawn. “We can link up, and you can go along for a magic carpet ride while I do my thing.”
The humor helped. Dawn’s familiar giggle sounded. “OK. Do you want to do it in here?”
“No.” Willow was very sure about that. “It’s too crowded, and I don’t want someone to break our concentration.” She took Dawn’s hand and headed for the door. “We can use the Altar Room in the basement.”
No one tried to stop them; although, Willow felt their collective gazes like a heavy weight. She was never going to tease Buffy about being in charge again. It sucked – a lot. Finally, though, they reached the hallway, and Willow took a deep breath. She’d sounded very certain when she’d laid the plan out to Dawn. As they got closer to the study, though, Willow frantically drew up and discarded idea after idea.
She still didn’t have anything concrete ready when Dawn closed the door behind them. “What do you need me to do, Willow?” she asked as they clattered down the stairs.
“Um…” Willow swept the dimly lit room below with her gaze. “For now, not much. We have to do this with all the bells and whistles.” Willow knew they needed to cast a formal Circle for Magick this big. “Why don’t you stand in the center of the circle?”
Dawn gave her a questioning look before trotting obligingly into the middle of the inset circle at the center of the room. OK. Jennifer had cast a Circle in here; that meant supplies. Willow racked her memory. Where could they be stored? She’d been too distracted (terrified, actually) to pay much attention.
The walls were smooth stone. There were no seams for even hidden cabinets. The same went for the floor.
Closing her eyes, Willow cast out, looking for the faintest of magical signatures. Jennifer’s permeated the room. It was both comforting and disconcerting. A lot of ambient power eddied through the basement. Willow narrowed her focus more. Although the arcane energy was astonishing, there were clear pockets of it in certain areas. The Circle, of course. The Altar.
Willow almost missed it.
As she scanned past the Altar, a tiny flicker in the glass-like surface of the stone table came and went. It was so small and so well hidden… With a triumphant grin, Willow opened her eyes and strode to the Altar. Now that she’d located it, the warded magical apothecary was clearly visible. She brushed the well-disguised door and it slid open. Reaching inside, Willow pulled out a pair of tiny cymbals and a single white candle. She closed the hidden cabinet and turned to Dawn.
“These are for you.” Willow held out the cymbals. “I hope you have better rhythm than Buffy. While I’m gathering the power for the outer shields, you need to clap them together every four seconds.” Feeling faintly ridiculous despite the gravity of the situation, she demonstrated using her hands. “One, two, three…” In place of a four-count, she clapped.
Tentatively, Dawn mimicked her actions.
“Just like that – only louder. You’re going to be the counterpoint to my chant.” Willow hoped she didn’t sound as freaked as she felt. She hated formal Magick. All the little rituals and steps meant more places to make mistakes. Bending, she set the candle on the floor. “Once I have the protections here up, open yourself to the energies, Dawn. I’ll have to borrow some probably.” She smiled wryly. “I guess being the most powerful witch around still isn’t enough.”
Dawn didn’t smile back. She was pale and her lips pressed together in a thin, tight line.
Willow hurried on. They had to get this done before Dawn broke under the strain. “Start the chimes when you see me light the candle.” Stepping back, she raised her hands and let her consciousness flow deep into her internal Center. The shimmering pool of her reservoir greeted her, and Willow keyed the lock and let the magical waters flow. Slowly and smoothly, she let the power fill her channels.
Flush with power, Willow ‘touched’ the permanent Circle surrounding her and Dawn. As if the marker was made of straw and the magic was a torch, the glass erupted into green flame. Blowing softly, Willow encouraged those flames higher until they reached the ceiling. She increased the flow of air and the power reached superheated levels and melted into a solid sheet of energy.
The candle felt cool and almost insubstantial in her hand when Willow picked it up. It took less than a thought to light the wick. Raising the pinprick of light so the fluttering flame sat at eye-level, Willow began to chant.
Willow’s words reverberated through the room. She hadn’t expected that – not so quickly. The Circle amplified the chant and the power behind the arcane language. Holding onto her focus, Willow blocked out the sensation. There were no do overs with Magick of this complexity.
She repeated the incantation a second time, smiling as she felt her mastery of the energy solidify. When the power peaked, Willow stopped chanting and blew out the candle. Smoke rose from the wick. It symbolized the swirling energy in the Circle. Blowing on the faint cloud, Willow pushed it away from her. Even though the physical smoke dissipated in seconds, the metaphysical smoke did not. Willow continued to blow gently. With her eyes closed, she could trace the path of the magic as it merged with the warding.
Sweat slicked Willow’s skin and drenched her clothing. Exhaustion dragged at her limbs. Not yet. To stave off collapse – and the breakdown of the spell, Willow opened a narrow conduit and carefully tapped into Dawn’s power. The influx helped immediately.
Raising her hands, she held them palm out and facing the warding. Her skin tingled as Willow pushed toward the shield. The Circle resisted. Its physical form was set and infused with the power of many, many rituals. Willow was attempting to alter its position. Straining the stubborn protections of the Circle, Willow pressed forward. She didn’t take a single physical step; however, her success was measured in the movement of the Circle itself.
Slowly, the shimmering green of the wards expanded. One inch…one foot…It now stretched throughout the entire basement. Each slow gain chipped away at Willow’s own energies. Not even borrowing heavily from Dawn combated her growing exhaustion.
Unfortunately, that progress still wasn’t enough. Despite the small size of their forces, the Potentials, Watchers, and reconstituted Scoobies couldn’t cohabitate in the basement. Ignoring the way her body nearly trembled with fatigue, Willow pushed on. The magic responded sluggishly. First, the ground floor. Because of her extended senses, Willow ‘felt’ each of the people gathered in the library and the kitchen. Her lips curled in satisfaction. None of them made the warding jangle an alarm; though, the Potentials did send a ripple though the curtain of magic with their combined mystical signatures.
Not stopping in her efforts, Willow continued to direct the protections outward. Finally, they passed through the ceiling of the second floor and surrounded the exterior of the main house. Finally it was enough. It would have to be. As Willow lowered her hands, she ruefully acknowledged that she had reached her own limits.
***
When Drew didn’t continue, Faith shared a wry look with Buffy. Maybe Drew should stop trying to decide between witch and Slayer – and settle on Watcher. She had the irritating delivery patterns down already. “You gonna tell us or we gotta start guessing, Little Red?”
That got a reaction. Drew flushed and stiffened.
“D-Drew.” Tara dragged Drew’s attention away from Faith with the soft stutter. “I th-think I kn-know what y-you’re thinking, b-but can you exp-explain it anyway?”
With a stiff nod, Drew agreed. “Sure, since you asked so nicely,” she said pointedly. Avoiding Faith’s gaze, she went on. “The guy Faith fought at the school – the one in black. I think…” Now Drew did look up at Faith. “Tara and I weren’t in the best spot to see. Faith, did he have a white collar on his shirt?”
“Uh…” Frowning, Faith tried to remember. “I was kinda busy. You know, not dying,” she tried to excuse. She couldn’t visualize much of the fight. She’d been too focused on Kirstan or checking on the Scoobies. Or, as she’d said, staying alive. “Maybe.” It was the best she could offer. “You think the dude was a priest?”
“It fits.” Drew leaned back and stretched. For the first time, Faith noticed that Willow’s sister hadn’t come out of the battle unscathed. In the dim illumination provided by the highway lights, she saw a grouping of bruises on Drew’s right cheek and eye. “If he was wearing a Roman collar, it might be the link to the dream. We have the Scythe.” She pointed to the weapon in Buffy’s hands. “And the priest performing the Mass. Now we need to figure out why he’s important, and why Buffy and Willow were serving up burgers and fries.”
Buffy smiled sadly. “No mystery there. I’m sure it has to do with almost losing the house and Dawn after Mom died. My subconscious warning me to get my act together.”
It didn’t fit. “Sorry, B. I gotta go with no on that one. I mean, that one we shared? Please. It was like downin’ a bottle of Jack after sniffin’ glue.” That earned her stares from everyone except Wesley – who was busy driving. “What? I’m just sayin… Them dreams don’t got anything to do with normal. Why the fuck else would me and B be making a bed together?” she pleaded her case.
“If isn’t about me actually working at the DMP, why have it?” Buffy wasn’t willing to accept Faith’s assertion. Hefting the Scythe into a more comfortable position on her legs, she yawned. “What does a priest have to do with the First? You fought him, Faith. Did he seem super powerful or important? Did he say anything?”
This, at least, Faith could remember. “He packed a hell of a punch, B.” She rubbed her rib as she recalled him tackling her to the floor. “More’n that, he wouldn’t go down. I whaled on him and he just came back for more.” More interested in this conversation now that she could contribute something, Faith sat up. “He did a lot of talkin’, too.” Smiling grimly, Faith said, “He was on the Scooby party line. Told me I was a whore and on my way to Hell.” Waving off Buffy’s tardy protest, Faith shrugged. “And he kept goin’ on and on about the Lord.”
Breaking off, Faith concentrated on recalling his comments word for word. “I can’t remember all of it.” She rubbed her forehead. “Mostly he wanted me to know I wasn’t bein’ a good little Slayer. Ah…the ‘Lord’s just reward’ is what I was getting’.” There had been something else. Right before the First had gone all Buffy. Faith couldn’t look at the real Buffy at the moment as she dredged up that memory. “Preacher Guy also claimed to be the ‘Lord’s Right Hand,’ whatever the fuck that is.”
Wesley’s voice drifted back from the front of the van. “Intriguing. I cannot remember a single reference to the First Evil needing any type of servant. The Bringers are there only to assist in calling it forth and, of course, filling the ranks of its army.”
“How does that help, Wes?” Faith was too tired to let him go into the full-blown explanation. She wanted Cliff’s Notes.
“I daresay you won’t be pleased to hear that I do not know.” His eyes stared at her through the rear view mirror. “However, it does suggest that there is information regarding the First’s rise to prominence we have yet to uncover.”
Did he think that was good news? Faith briefly considered turning to Buffy and handing back her newly-acquired rank. She didn’t know how to handle any of this. Unfortunately, when she looked in Buffy’s direction, Buffy’s tiny smirk of satisfaction told her this was a normal part of the learning curve. And, of course, it was obvious that Buffy wasn’t going to bail Faith out anytime soon.
Grimacing, Faith cleared her throat. “Guess we’ll be hittin’ the books again when we get to the homestead.” Pointing at Drew, she started handing out assignments. “That’s your job, Little Red. Whatever, whoever you need. Round ‘em up and start looking. If this guy’s a major player for the First, I wanna know now – not when he kicks our ass.”
“My name is Drew. D…R…E…W.” A laser-like glare accompanied Drew’s sharp retort.
This was more like it. Grinning, Faith ignored Drew’s irritation. “Don’t matter. You look like Red…only you ain’t. So Little Red works for me. Deal and move on. We got bigger shit to worry about.”
“What about this?” Buffy held out the Scythe. “We have it. What do we do with it?”
“Sounds like a job for your girl, B. Now that she’s the Superwitch, maybe she can make it do more than kill vamps.” Faith shrugged. It was the best she had to offer. Buffy was taking the whole not being in charge thing too far. She knew Faith didn’t have the answers; yet Buffy continued to ask for them.
She might have continued, except the van slowed and then made a sharp turn. “We’re back at the ranch,” Wesley announced.
Faith got up on her knees and peered out of the windshield. “Alright, kiddies. Make sure you get all your gear and clean up the trash. I ain’t spending the rest of the day doin’ it for you.” She grinned at the chuckles her comment received. She continued more soberly, eyes sweeping over the people crowded together next to her. “Stay sharp. We kicked the First’s ass at the school. That don’t mean more of them ‘Bringers ain’t waiting for us here.” Her gaze stopped on Jennifer and Kirstan. “Not you, Old Timer. You got yourself a spot in the back until I can trust you in a fight.”
A soft snort greeted her comment. “Just wait, little girl. We’ll see who wins when I take you out to the Training Shed again.”
The van slid to a stop. “I’ll look forward to it, Old Timer.” Faith opened the door and hopped out. On full alert, she scanned the area. “Nothin’ on the radar. You gettin’ anything, B?”
***
Gripping the Scythe, Buffy climbed out and stood a few steps behind Faith. There was something here. It was faint, though. “Maybe,” she answered softly. Warmth filtered through her palms, and Buffy strained to get more information from the warning.
When the answer came, she nearly dropped the Scythe.
“Buffy?” Gunn hesitated with one foot on the gravel drive and the other inside the van. “We got trouble?” He yanked a stake from the back of his waistband and looked around quickly.
“Yes.” Buffy was too focused to say much. She had to get inside; Willow was inside – and so was whatever had set the Scythe off. “Faith! Get the gang; it looks like the First beat us back.” She didn’t wait to see if Faith would follow orders. Instead, Buffy sprinted for the wide porch and the doors to the library.
Her footsteps sounded eerily loud on the loose gravel coating the fused section Willow had created only a few days ago, and Buffy’s breathing seemed to explode from her lungs. How had the First gotten inside without Willow noticing? She hit the short flight of stairs at full speed, leaping the wide steps in a single bound and lunging toward the French doors.
They opened with a crash as her weight (and the force of her shove) snapped the dead bolt and tore the door on the right completely from the frame. Glass shattered and crunched under Buffy’s feet as she slid to a halt and raised the Scythe.
“You still on that power trip?” Kennedy strolled forward with her hands casually shoved in her pockets. “In case you haven’t noticed, we were cleaning up the mess left by the Bringers. I think this time you get to sweep up the glass.”
Buffy ignored most of the mocking comment. “I know about the Bringers. Willow told me; they weren’t the real problem. The First is here.” That brought her attention back to Kennedy. Kennedy – who wasn’t carrying a weapon. Without taking her eyes off the other girl, Buffy grabbed a piece of broken door frame and tossed it to Kennedy. “Here. You might need this.”
The makeshift stake landed in Kennedy’s quickly outstretched hand. “I do have a sword,” she said disdainfully.
She wasn’t the threat. Buffy relaxed only marginally when Kennedy gripped the shard of wood. “You can’t ever have too many weapons. Didn’t your Watcher teach you anything?” she asked vaguely. Her attention was back to scanning for the First. Dimly, Buffy also heard the rest of the troops running into the house behind her. “Spread out,” Buffy told them tersely. “Anybody not touching or holding something is suspect.” She was happy to note that Faith was right at her elbow as she moved past Kennedy and began to hunt for the First and Willow.
More and more people joined in the hunt. Buffy saw sword-wielding Potentials and Watchers alike ducking in and out of rooms. As nice as their support was, it wasn’t an effective use of their forces. The Scythe in her hands appeared to be the only way to sense the First. “Faith!” she called out tersely.
“More trouble, B?” Faith moved even with Buffy, both hands holding weapons.
“Maybe.” Grinning slightly at Faith’s snort, Buffy pointed at a cluster of Potentials. “We need them out of the way and quarantined. I’m not…” She flexed her fingers around the Scythe, still trying to do a directional search of the early warning signal thrumming through the handle. “I can’t tell where the First is.”
Faith seemed to be on the same wave length. Before Buffy could continue, Faith spun on her heel. “You! Junior!”
Drew, Kennedy, and another Potential Buffy barely recognized stood shoulder to shoulder a few feet away. Only Kennedy looked up at Faith’s brusque summons. “You bellowed?”
Ignoring the mocking comment, Faith went on. “Gather the crew in the living room. Make sure everyone, even the bookworms, is got a weapon. Post guards on the door, in and out. Nothing gets through the door unless you know ‘em and you can touch ‘em.” Not bothering to wait for Kennedy’s response, Faith started walking again.
Buffy glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “You think she’s going to take orders from you?”
There was a hint of a smile on Faith’s lips. “She don’t and I’m gonna make her wish you’d beaten the crap out of her earlier.”
“Oooh, Scary Faith.” As they bantered, Buffy pushed her senses to the limit. She could faintly feel Faith doing the same. The Scythe was making the process difficult, though; the tingling in her palms had spread to Buffy’s entire body. The silent almost-hum distracted her and derailed her regular Slayer senses. She fought to reach through the buzz. “That’s a big change in the rule book,” Buffy murmured in response to Faith’s comment. “I was more iron fist in the velvet glove with my troops.” Her efforts weren’t enough. The Scythe was winning the battle, and she still hadn’t found the First. Will? Buffy mentally called out.
“Takes too much time to play nice, B,” Faith was quick to respond as she jumped through the doorway into the den.
Buffy followed a second later as they imitated television cops entering a suspect’s home. The room was empty, though. Sagging slightly from the rapid drop in adrenaline, Buffy felt a tired brush on her mind.
Buffy? Willow sounded drained until the rest of the thought traveled through their link. You’re back! Even in Buffy’s mind, Willow’s elation carried a bounce and full-faced smile.
Reluctant to rain on Willow’s Happy Parade, Buffy nonetheless sent an echo of the Scythe’s warning into the bond. The First is here, Will. The Scythe can sense it. She kept the information short and to the point. Stay put. Faith and I are hunting for it. We’ll come to you. Now that Willow was on her internal radar, Buffy knew her wife was in the basement. Waving a hand at Faith, Buffy mouthed the word, “Willow,” and pointed to her head.
Faith nodded in understanding and took the point position as they slipped back into the hallway.
It was hard to skulk behind Faith and talk at the same time. Buffy’s concentration wavered, and the link faded in and out in response. That didn’t mean she missed the disbelief and bruised ego when Willow protested the news about the First. There’s nothing in the house, Buffy. Dawn and I did the warding, and I…
Willow disappeared from Buffy’s head as she and Faith reenacted their surprise entrance into the kitchen.
“We got blood, B.” Faith dashed across the empty room. Kneeling on the floor, she touched a dark and congealed pool on the floor. “Ain’t new, though.” She held up her red-stained fingers.
“Great.” It was anything except good, however. “Now what? Is the First here disguised as whoever left that?” Buffy asked, pointing to the bloodstain. “Or is that from the fight with the ‘Bringers?” Scowling at the Scythe in her hands, Buffy resisted the urge to heave the weapon through the nearest window. “What the hell good is this thing if I can’t understand what it’s telling me?”
***
“’Least we know there’s trouble.” Faith stood and strode for the door. “It’s better than we usually get, B. Stop whining and start walking.” She didn’t pay attention to Buffy’s open-mouthed look of shock at her words. Faith didn’t have the Scythe. She didn’t even have Buffy’s level of awareness. Straining with everything she had, Faith felt…nothing. Not even a flicker touched her internal radar. It made her want to howl in frustration – and not only because the First might be loose in the house. Dawn was with Willow. Faith’s sensory blindness included the inability to touch or talk to Dawn the way Buffy and Willow did.
Fear for her girlfriend soured in Faith’s mouth and sent cold, clammy sweat streaking down her body. Using the added energy from the fight or flight response jangling her nerves, Faith exploded out of the kitchen and took the stairs to the second floor in two huge leaps.
“Faith! Watch where you’re going!” Cordelia snapped as Faith nearly caromed into the group of people crowding in the hallway.
Coming to an abrupt halt, Faith grunted softly when Buffy slammed into her back. “What’s with the party, Prom Queen?” She scanned the ragtag bunch and bit back a curse. Anya lay on a sheet stretched between Xander, Giles, and another pair of Watchers. She reached back and grabbed Buffy’s arm, moving them to the side.
There was no thank you from the crew. They simply made their way slowly to the stairs. Pants and grumbles marked their passage, and Faith thought she heard a, “Geez, are you going to throw me down the stairs?” from Anya herself.
“We decided it would be fun to hold off the bad guys with a handful of little girls.” Cordelia’s response lacked its usual bite. “We’ve got another group coming, if you and Buffy can stay out of the way.”
Buffy’s head popped around the side of Faith’s body. “I didn’t know anyone except Anya got hurt.”
Grinding her teeth, Faith held back a whine about missing out on the information. Why hadn’t Buffy filled her in? “One of the juniors, Cordy?” she asked tersely. They had so few Potentials now. She didn’t want to think how bad their chances were if they continued to lose more to injury…or worse. Movement at the end of the hallway distracted her. Another crowd of people. Another sheet serving as a stretcher. “Who the fuck is that?” Faith stared at the woman being carried toward them. “B?” It had to be the First. It was the only new face.
All of Buffy now appeared at Faith’s side. “I don’t know.” She held out the Scythe like a divining rod and frowned. “I don’t know!” she repeated in a frustrated growl. “It’s the same feeling as before.”
“Don’t know about you, B, but I’m tired of waiting for your new toy to do its thing.” Reaching out, Faith extended the hilt of the dagger in her right hand toward the woman.
“What are you doing? She needs to be…” One of the Watchers holding the sheet started to protest.
Faith gave him her best General Faith look, and he shut up with an indignant huff. “She ain’t dead, and I don’t see lots of blood.” Turning her look on the woman, Faith ordered, “Take it. I wanna see you hold that.”
Everyone in the hallway stared. Some at Faith, some at each other. Most at the tanned hand and the weapon resting less than an inch away from it.
***
When Buffy’s mental voice disappeared, Willow tried to pull it back. Unfortunately, even though she continued to feel Buffy’s faint emotional turmoil and tension, Willow couldn’t reestablish the link. “Damn it!” She wanted to stomp her feet and scream. Why did Buffy think the First was in the house? And…if it was, how had it gotten there? She had never set a warding as big and complex as the one she and Dawn had just raised; Willow was completely sure, however, that the Magickal ritual had been a success. The small, yet continuous, drain on her reserves signaled the ward was active. “Dawn.” Willow wasn’t about to let the matter sit. “We need to take another look at the spell. It didn’t work.”
“I thought…” Dawn cut off her statement abruptly. She looked at Willow and seemed to make a decision. “Tell me what to do,” she said, echoing her earlier request.
This time, Willow couldn’t afford to let Dawn stay on the outside of the real magic. She needed all the help she could get. “Drop your shields. I’m going to merge our power.” They were still standing near the altar, well inside the permanent Circle. Unfortunately, the protective barrier Willow had raised was gone now. It was part of the larger barrier surrounding the house. Grimacing at the need to recast the Circle, Willow closed her eyes and sought her center.
It was a difficult journey. Willow was more than simply physically tired. Her channels pulsed and felt raw from the heavy load of energy they’d carried. Promising herself a long, uninterrupted rest sometime soon, Willow ignored the signs of her own fatigue and traced the familiar pathway to the core of her being. Some of the exhaustion faded when she reached her destination. Good. Willow took a second to make sure her power levels were stable and then tossed an invisible hook and line at Dawn.
Dawn’s magical education had been sporadic and never planned. Her inexperience showed immediately. The hook smacked into Dawn’s partially lowered barriers and almost-visible sparks flared.
Willow reeled in automatically. “Easy, Dawnie,” she murmured. “It’s just me. Relax and use the mantra Tara taught you.” The last was a stab in the dark. Tara had tried to teach Willow the calming routine when they’d been studying together. Holding her breath, she watched Dawn with her inner sight.
She’d been right about the mantra. Willow spotted a rhythmic movement in the bright power in Dawn’s channels seconds later. The cycle completed once…twice…and the barriers dropped away.
This time, the hook landed smoothly. Thank you, Willow told her new assistant through their connection. All you need to do now is watch…and keep this link open. There was a flutter of agreement from Dawn, and Willow smiled as she went to work. Flush with fresh energy, she left her physical form behind and rose up through the ceiling and out into the night sky. With painstaking care, Willow examined the warding she’d cast. Smooth, seamless magic coated the exterior of the ranch house. The spell had been a success.
If we did it right, Dawn’s mental voice was soft and thin, then the First was here before we put the barrier up.
The simple statement echoed between them. How? The question wasn’t really directed
at Dawn. Willow was thinking aloud. One of the Potentials or Watchers? She gripped Dawn more
tightly through their connection. I want
to take a closer look at that idea. Smiling grimly, Willow murmured, What if we’re missing something, Dawnie? The books on the First…they were really vague. Are
we sure we know all its powers?
A hint of fear slid through the bond with Dawn. Willow? What…What are you thinking?
Willow wasn’t entirely sure herself. All she knew was that something wasn’t adding up. Don’t panic yet, Dawn. Stay with me. I need you; I can’t do this alone.
The reminder that Dawn was an integral part of
the magic helped. Willow felt the bond strengthen and Dawn’s fear faded behind
a wave of determination. I’m not going
anywhere, Willow.
More focused now, Willow moved her astral form back inside the house. Before they could put together a solution to their problem, they had to locate the First. The warding was solid. It sealed evil out…and the First inside, it seemed. Searching for any sign of unexplained power, Willow scanned the interior of the house. Flares of light dotted the building and indicated the location of every person. Most of them were in the living room.
Willow intended to start her in-depth study there. She’d had the First hiding inside her head. That ought to give her an edge in locating its hiding place.
Her bond with Buffy had other plans, however. Before she could scan even one person, Willow found herself hovering in the second floor hallway near her wife. Her internal vision flickered unexpectedly, and Willow’s hold on Dawn and her body slipped. Panicking, Willow yanked on the grapple line between her and Dawn. It held, but she felt the hook slide. She needed a better anchor. Bypassing the continued interference in her link to Buffy, Willow latched onto Buffy in desperation.
The second she made contact, the hallway…the entire house fluoresced. Through the painfully bright light, Willow made out a darker shape resting in Buffy’s hands. The light came from whatever Buffy held. As it slowly dimmed, the light took shape. Like a spider web, tenuous lines of pure white stretched from Buffy to many of the people in the house.