CHAPTER 66
Faith shivered and burrowed closer to Dawn. The damned air conditioning must be on Arctic. Goose bumps rose on the exposed skin of her arms and chest, and she shivered convulsively. Luckily, Dawn didn’t seem to feel the chill in the air. Faith burrowed closer, letting Dawn’s body heat eclipsed the cold. Mmmm, that was better. Smiling in sleepy satisfaction, Faith nuzzled her head under Dawn’s chin.
Want, take, have was a bad idea. Love and cuddling ruled.
Eyes drifting closed again, Faith pressed a light kiss to the flesh beneath her lips. She was so tired. So…very…tired… Unfortunately, she was also hungry. Her stomach grumbled and then growled in clear protest. Sleep could wait. Food could not.
Stifling a growl of her own, Faith wiggled slowly out of Dawn’s embrace. “Sorry, D,” she whispered. “Fucking Beast is a pain in the ass.”
Dawn didn’t answer; she only rolled into the space Faith had just abandoned and clutched Faith’s pillow to her chest.
“Keep me a spot all warm.” Leaning down, Faith brushed her lips over Dawn’s hair. It was easier to do with no one there to witness. “I’ll be right back with some grub.” She maintained her watch over Dawn as she pulled on her clothes and then reluctantly turned away, slipping quietly out of the room.
***
With a moan of protest, Willow rolled over and reached for Buffy. Cool, empty sheets met her hand. “Buffy?” Prying one eye open, she peered around the darkened room.
Buffy was nowhere in sight.
“Buffy?” Panic was instinctive. Willow sat up and swung her legs off the bed. Had something happened? Why hadn’t Buffy woken her? Mind fuzzy with sleep and a touch of fear, she stepped into her clothes.
“Hey, what are you doing up?” Buffy appeared from the bathroom. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” She hovered uncertainly halfway between the other room and the bed. “Will? You OK?”
Blushing, Willow slipped back under the covers. “Hi.” She snuck a look at the clock. “Did we really sleep that long?” Her explanation to Buffy got derailed by the time. “Fourteen hours? No way!”
Buffy laughed. “That’s right. I got up and reset it just to see your eyes pop out of your head.”
“Yeah, yeah. Rub it in…” Willow leaned against the pillows and narrowed her eyes at Buffy. “I can’t believe nothing happened. I mean, since when did we ever get to sleep this long without something going wrong?” A grin crept out. “Maybe I shouldn’t say that out loud. It might summon Xan to the door.”
“If he knocks, it’s all on you, Hirsch.” Raising her hands over her head, Buffy stretched. “God, that feels good.”
It looked good, too, since Buffy hadn’t dressed for her trip to the bathroom. “Why don’t you come back to bed, and I can…” Willow started in a sultry murmur.
Unfortunately, her earlier comment had summoned trouble.
A shout sounded from the hallway, and fire raced along Willow’s nerves. “Buffy! The wards…” Gasping against the mystical alarm bells ringing in her head, she waved a hand at the door. “The First…here.”
Buffy frowned. “Head downstairs, Will. Make sure everyone’s armed and ready. I’ll grab Faith and Dawn. We’ll do a sweep up here before coming down.”
Catapulting out of bed, Willow scrambled into her discarded clothing. “No. Don’t waste time looking up here. I can send some of the Potentials up. We need to get the Circle set.” The continued warning from the wards made it hard to focus. It took two tries to button her shirt.
“Circle?” Buffy seemed confused for a second.
“Lots of hand holding and mind sharing…” Willow yanked the zipper on her jeans up and stuffed her feet into her tennis shoes. “That Circle.” She ran for the door, barely noticing Buffy still standing unarmed and unclothed in the middle of the room. “Buffy! Wake up!”
Seeming to shake herself, Buffy nodded. “One wide awake Buffy here. Sorry. It’s been almost a day since the last big fight. I think I forgot what to do. It’s coming back to me now, though.” She took a step toward the closet.
Willow rolled her eyes. Retirement sounded better and better all the time. She wanted to forget how to rush off to battle. “Be careful,” she called over her shoulder as she opened the door and ran into the hallway.
It was empty. The fight hadn’t reached the second floor yet; although, Willow could hear the sounds of clanging metal and more shouting from below. Her feet barely touched the steps as she raced to help.
Her first opportunity tumbled into view before she made it all the way down the staircase.
A ‘Bringer and Potential crashed onto the bottoms steps. “Get your…” Willow couldn’t see which of the new girls was shouting. All she saw was a flash of blonde hair and the top of the ‘Bringer’s head. “…your fucking hands off me!”
A pained grunt emerged from the ‘Bringer in response to a sharp blow to the side of his head.
Despite the fact that the Potential appeared to have things under control, Willow pulled in a small amount of power and snapped her right hand up, palm out. Control, she chanted to herself. This wasn’t going to be like the library. She simply wanted to give the Potential the upper hand. In response to her mental pep talk, a baseball-sized globe of blue energy flared to life and flew across the intervening distance.
It hit the ‘Bringer’s back and exploded soundlessly. A line of flames blazed from his robes at the point of impact, and he reared back.
The Potential responded as well – and her sword buried itself in the Bringer’s chest. He dropped lifelessly to the floor seconds before Willow’s magical fire engulfed his still form.
“Nice job,” Willow commented hoarsely. The smell of burning flesh filled nose and throat. Keeping the magic under control hadn’t worked the way she’d planned; nor had it made the act of killing any easier. Eyes averted from the smoldering ‘Bringer, Willow continued her trip down the stairs. She barely slowed her pace as she extended a hand to help the Potential up. “I should have let you finish him off.” Then maybe Willow wouldn’t have felt such an overwhelming need to throw up. “Sorry for butting in.” She knew how touchy Buffy had always gotten in similar situations – not that they’d happened all that often. “Where are the rest of them? The library?”
“And the kitchen.” Hopping up, the Potential dragged Willow in that direction. “Pretty much the whole floor. I was on my way to get you. Your wife’s going to kill me if she finds out you had to save me from that ‘Bringer.”
“Well, then we won’t tell her.” There wasn’t time for more. Willow spotted more fighting at the end of the hallway. “Stay out of the way,” she warned. “I don’t want to singe you on accident.” There were too many robed figures for the small group of Potentials and Watchers she glimpsed. Ignoring the continued sickness roiling her stomach, Willow reached for the magic again. Her hands tingled as the power flared. If the First wanted to play, she was more than happy to join in.
Zeroing in on the robes that set the ‘Bringers apart from the good guys, Willow tossed two more fireballs.
Shocked screams and bellows of pain echoed through the crowded room.
“Red!” Faith appeared at her side. “Fuck, B was about to have a cow. You get lost on the way down?” Gripping Willow’s arm tightly, she dragged her away from the fighting. “We got the magic crew in the other room, waiting on you.”
Their progress probably wasn’t as fast as Faith wanted. She scowled fiercely as their exit was impeded. With more force than absolutely necessary, Faith lashed out with her left arm, blocking a knife thrust by a ‘Bringer before sending her other fist straight into his nose.
Willow huddled behind Faith. This time, she kept her magic locked away. There were too many people now. Not even the robes helped distinguish friend from foe. Not to mention a new wave of ‘Bringers entered the kitchen through the shattered windows. “Faith!” Willow tried to warn the other girl of the increasing threat.
“Motherfuckers,” Faith snarled, turning her head where Willow indicated. She shoved Willow toward the kitchen door and knocked the dazed and bleeding ‘Bringer to the floor. “Hit the road, Red. Get the magic shit started; I’ll join ya’ as soon as I know the kiddies can handle this.”
Torn, Willow hesitated. “Faith…” The Circle wouldn’t work without all of them. Even Faith. Any arguments she had, though, disappeared when the first Potential went down with a dagger sprouting from her chest.
Neither of them was leaving. Not yet.
She couldn’t risk too much magical expenditure – and she had to be careful. Willow kept those thoughts firmly in mind as she keyed open the gate to her reservoirs. The power rushed through her channels, filling them until her skin felt tight. “Everybody down!”
Most of the new Scoobies obeyed, and a horde of ‘Bringers stared sightlessly at Willow across suddenly empty space. The tableau lasted for a long second – until a single robed figure rushed forward.
Responding instantly, Willow thrust both hands forward and used her magic like an invisible sword blade. In a tight, thin line, it spread across the room in a shimmering blue wave.
It struck the impatient Bringer at chest level.
He screamed, and the sound rang in Willow’s ears with ever-increasing volume. She fought her automatic response to pull back on the magic – and watched as he was sliced in half by the leading edge of the energy she’d thrown at him and his companions.
A flood of red sprayed the kitchen. Warm droplets pelted Willow’s face and arms. She absently rubbed at them, eyes locked onto the glowing magical blade as it continued through the ranks of Bringers. Some perverse inner impulse made Willow count each of her victims. One…two… By the time the power drained away, her eyes were blurred with tears and the body count had reached twenty.
Blood dripped in slow paths down the cabinets and off the counters. It slicked the floor and pooled beneath the corpses strewn in piles only feet away. Willow gagged at the sharp copper scent that hung in the air.
“Let’s go.” Faith’s voice echoed weirdly in Willow’s ears. A warm hand touched her shoulder, the fingers gently gripping and pulling her slowly away from the carnage. “We have to start the Circle. There are too many of them.”
Willow’s eyes flickered away from the nightmarish view in the kitchen. More ‘Bringers hovered uncertainly outside the shattered windows and the open exterior door.
The hand on her shoulder succeeded in turning Willow completely away from the aftermath of her magical attack. Faith stared at Willow with…something Willow couldn’t identify. “B’s waitin’ in the den, Red. She’ll be glad to see you.” Her hand slid down Willow’s arm until their fingers locked. “Just to let ya’ know… I ain’t ever gonna piss you off, Red. No fucking way.”
The huskily whispered statement shocked a bark of laughter out of Willow, and the images of the dead ‘Bringers retreated in her memory. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she advised. Pulling on Faith’s arm, Willow headed for the hallway. They had to dodge more Potentials and Watchers, and Willow saw Gunn and Wesley beginning to take control of the fighters in the room. At least her magic had given them all a chance to regroup. That made the stack of dismembered bodies worth it. Didn’t it?
Willow wasn’t able to answer her own internal question before she and Faith hurtled into the den. “Sorry we’re late,” she gasped out. “It’s a little crowded out there.” Releasing Faith’s hand, Willow dropped to the floor next to Buffy, barely refraining from climbing into her lap and huddling there until the images disappeared entirely.
“Glad you could make it, Will.” Her fingers traced a path along Willow’s jaw. “Are…are you OK?” She held up her hand, and Willow saw it was stained with blood.
The blood that she’d been covered in when she slaughter the ‘Bringers.
“It’s not mine.” Willow didn’t know what else to say. If she told Buffy what she’d done…
“Try this, Red.” Holding out a fistful of tissues, Faith moved closer to Willow’s other side. “It’ll get rid of the worst of it.”
Seizing the offering, Willow scrubbed at her arms and face until the tissue was a pink-mottled mess. Streaks of blood still dotted her hands, and she could feel some drying in sticky patches on her neck.
As if sensing Willow’s spiraling emotions, Buffy twined her fingers with Willow’s. “I knew I shouldn’t have let Faith talk me into sneaking downstairs to make breakfast for you and Dawn,” she teased with a wink. “Bad things always happen when I’m in the kitchen.”
Kitchen? Buffy had been in the kitchen? Her preoccupation with the bloodstains ended abruptly. Willow opened her mouth and tried to form words as a new fear – and realization – nearly stopped her heart. “You were in the bathroom, Buffy.”
She could see Buffy didn’t understand her point. “Huh? Yeah, I was. Before Faith tapped on the door. Did I wake you up? I didn’t mean to.”
Their conversation was interrupted when Kirsten cleared her throat. “How about you figure out where Buffy was later, girls? We have a few - more important - things to worry about now.” She pointed to their joined hands. “Let’s get this Circle set; we still have to figure out how to find and then defeat the First.”
It was a very good point, but it wasn’t entirely accurate. “We don’t have to find the First. I know where it is…” Willow winced as Buffy’s fingers nearly crushed her own at her statement. “It’s upstairs. In our bedroom.” Raising her eyes, Willow looked at Jennifer. “With the Scythe.”
“What? How did…?” Kirstan’s voice was the first to break the silence.
Jennifer’s, however, was only a second behind. “How did it get through the wards? Didn’t you feel it, Willow?”
No. She hadn’t, Willow internally answered Jennifer’s question. She hadn’t felt anything – because she’d been too distracted. By panic. By desire. By the sudden shattering of the wards. “The First has the Scythe,” Willow repeated. That was more important than the rest of the comments swirling with increasing volume through the small room.
“It ain’t like it can use the thing, Red.” Faith shrugged, seemingly the only one not concerned about Willow’s news. “No form, remember? What’s the big deal?”
For an instant, Willow let herself be swayed by Faith’s reassurances. She was right. The First wasn’t corporeal. It couldn’t pick up the Scythe and kill anyone with it.
Unfortunately, not everyone was willing to let the matter drop. “What about the priest? Couldn’t he use it? Or one of the ‘Bringers?” Kirstan scowled. “We can’t take any chances. The First was obviously after the Scythe. Why else would it appear to Willow and then stay behind in the bedroom? There has to be a reason.” Clearly, she thought it had to be something bad. “Jenny, can we put some kind of ward around the Scythe to keep the First from using it?”
Jennifer’s head shook immediately in denial. “Even if we could, it’s already found a way through the wards on the house. Nothing I could create would be stronger than those. We’d just be wasting time and power. Let’s stick with the plan. Form the Circle and try to overload the First. It’s the best option.”
“You heard the lady.” Kirstan, at least, was willing to let Jennifer pick their options. “Let’s get started; I don’t want to be fighting the magic when the First or those ‘Bringers come charging through the door.”
Sharing a disbelieving look with Buffy, Willow slowly stood. If Kirstan was right about the First, they couldn’t afford to ignore the problem. The Circle was a long shot at best, anyway. Now, with the First’s move for the Scythe, their strategy appeared even less likely to succeed. “No.” Her quiet refusal seemed to echo in the room. Searching for words, Willow tried to explain her reasoning. “We can’t sit here and wait. This whole plan… It only works if we have more power than the First. If it can somehow use the Scythe, we’re dead.”
An unspoken, “We might be anyway,” flitted through Willow’s mind.
Willow shook that off. They’d faced the threat of annihilation more times than she cared to remember. “Buffy and I will go upstairs and get the Scythe. Jennifer, you pull the Circle together. We’ll be back before you know it.” She tacked on the last in an effort to combat the raised eyebrow she received from Jennifer.
“If you think I’m letting you go up those stairs,” Jennifer said from between tightly clenched teeth. “You’ve obviously not been paying attention the last few days. This isn’t the Buffy and Willow Show. Give us a few minutes, and we’ll come up with another plan.”
“We don’t have time…” Willow broke off when Jennifer’s hand snapped up, palm out.
When her voice trailed away, the palm turned into a single finger and pointed imperiously at the carpet. “Sit. Down.” There was no doubt in Willow’s mind that Jennifer wasn’t going to listen to anything she had to say.
***
Willow was floundering. Buffy pressed her lips together to hide a smile at the sight. She remembered that feeling. So very well. Her mother had been a master of The Eyebrow and between-the-teeth-orders. “Sorry, Jennifer,” Buffy said, amusement taking a backseat to urgency as she contemplated what Willow proposed they do. “Planning sessions take time. And we don’t have a lot of that. Not with ‘Bringers in the house and the First on the move.” Reaching out, Buffy gripped Willow’s hand and pulled her toward the door. She paused just long enough to pick up the sword Kirstan had propped against the couch at the far side of the room.
The group behind them was silent – until Buffy pulled the door open. “Maybe you and Red should stay here, B. Like you said, you’re out of the game. Me and D can do the deed.” Faith started to stand, and Buffy saw Dawn shift from her position as well.
“Next time.” Buffy met Faith’s eyes, seeing her own fear reflected there. “You need to stay here, in case…”
Dawn’s sharp intake of breath convinced Buffy not to say any more.
Nodding slowly, Faith indicated she’d gotten the point, though. “Be careful, B.” Faith’s smirk appeared forced as she retook her seat on the floor. “I don’t wanna have to deal with D if you end up dead. Ain’t real good with tears and shit.”
Hand tightening around the hilt of her weapon, Buffy responded, “Rule number one, Faith. Don’t get dead. Like I told you in Sunnydale, it’s always been my motto.” Then she turned back to the body-strewn hallway with Willow right behind her.
The door closed with a soft thump.
Senses on high, Buffy stayed alert. Although there wasn’t any fighting in the narrow hallway, the sounds of battle rang from both directions. Metal clanged against metal. Shouts mixed with moans. Buffy quivered with conflicting impulses. She’d been the Slayer for too long. Her place was on the front lines. Not here. Not creeping past a dead ‘Bringer and praying that no one saw them.
“What’s the plan?” Willow whispered suddenly as Buffy’s foot settled on the first step.
“The plan?” Buffy parroted automatically. She continued to climb toward the second floor but stopped scanning their path long enough to give Willow an incredulous look. “Going up here was your idea. I thought you had a plan!”
A familiar quirky grin answered her. “Um…not so much, really.”
Dear God. Panic curdled in Buffy’s stomach and the hand clutching the sword hilt slipped from the sudden flood of sweat slicking her palm. “Will! The First is upstairs. I don’t want to sound like Giles, but a plan is of the good.” In fact, her mind was already racing, examining all of their options, searching for a way to complete the mission – and stay alive.
“Until the First has a form, Buffy, the only thing it can do is mess with our minds.” Willow moved closer, her body heat warming Buffy’s back. “You’ve already dealt with that. All we have to do is go in, take the Scythe, and ignore whatever games it tries to play.”
It sounded simple. Too simple. Willow hadn’t had to handle talking with Joyce. Even knowing the thing in the room hadn’t been her mother, Buffy wasn’t ready to confront it a second time. The First was good at what it did. Waltzing past more images of all the people who’d died…
This was so not going to be simple.
Unfortunately, Buffy couldn’t come up with anything better. Swords didn’t work against ghostly apparitions. “Go in, get the Scythe, let it play musical bodies. Got it.” She tried to sound confident and ready for anything, praying her fear was well hidden.
Too soon for her piece of mind, they reached the second floor landing. “Wait a second,” Buffy cautioned Willow. “There might be ‘Bringers.” Although, as soon as she said that, she felt ridiculous. The hallway was empty and quiet, and the only warning on her senses was the bright blaze of evil emanating from their bedroom.
Not trusting in that ephemeral sense of safety, Buffy shoved Willow farther behind her and inched toward the bedroom door.
Nothing leaped from any of the other rooms.
Buffy was nearly trembling by the time she stopped in front of the door. Too much worry. Too many different stimuli. Her head whirled and her muscles ached from being clenched so tightly. “I go in first.” Being a little off her game didn’t mean Buffy had completely forgotten her duty. She was the Slayer – and Willow’s wife. Protecting her was part of the package.
“Buf…” Willow started to say.
“Not gonna argue, Will.” Reinforcing her announcement by speaking through their link, as well as verbally, Buffy glared over her shoulder until Willow nodded tightly. “Thank you.” Some of the fear drained away, the small flare of relief only heightening Buffy’s lightheadedness. “On three.” Sword held away from her body, Buffy raised her right foot slowly. “One.”
Her focus narrowed to the spot right below the door handle.
“Two.” Buffy drew her knee straight up and close in to her chest. “Three!” Her foot was a blur as it shot forward.
Buffy’s aim was true. The door flew inward, tearing from the hinges and caroming into the room.
***
Faith watched the door close behind Buffy and bit back a growl. Why did Buffy, the retired Vampire Slayer, get to go off and fight the First? Wasn’t that supposed to be her job now? Instead…Instead, Faith was trapped in this tiny room with the witches. “You heard, B.” Buffy’s unspoken reminder replayed in her mind. What she wanted wasn’t the issue. “Time to hold hands and get all in touch with ourselves.”
“But Willow…” Drew peered around the incomplete Circle. “We don’t have enough power without her. She wasn’t even sure we’d have enough with her here!”
Things were already falling apart. No one had moved to join hands, and Faith didn’t feel the annoying tickle in her head that meant anyone had tried to make contact mentally.
It was time for a little shock therapy to get things moving. The New Scoobies could panic and fall apart after the battle was over.
“Look, Little Red, there’s some things to know about Red and B.” The reconciliation with Buffy and Willow made the next part hard. Faith didn’t have a lot of remaining Scooby Hate to use as a backup. She was going to have to manufacture her mockery all on her own. “When the chips are down…” Her smirk felt wrong, and Faith had no doubt anyone familiar with the expression would know she was putting on an act. “They got this need to be the only ones grabbin’ the glory. Deal and move on.”
Faith might not have been at her best, but she was still good enough to hit the right buttons. Drew’s eyes widened – and then blazed with anger.
“You bitch!” Only Tara’s restraining hand on her arm kept Drew from hurtling across the space between her and Faith.
Maintaining her scornful expression, Faith waited to see if her comment would garner reactions from anyone else.
“Drew, sit down. Goddess, I thought we’d taught you better self control than that.” Kirstan glared at a still irate Drew before transferring her eyes to Faith. “And you… Do you have to piss everyone off? Is that why Buffy thought she needed a straightjacket after asking you to look after Dawn?”
Faith’s flinch was automatic. And visible. “Could be.” Not even making up with Buffy made Kirstan’s comment hurt less. “It wasn’t like I played nice when I was in SunnyD. Scoobs have got a lot of reasons to hate me, Old Timer.” Meeting Kirstan’s eyes, Faith sidestepped discussing the issue further. “That’s between me and them. You and the kid done wasting time? In case you forgot, Red and B are about to take on the First.” She let that sink in for just a second. “Alone. We don’t get this Circle shit off the ground, not even Red’s new mojo is keepin’ them alive.”
She was so focused on Kirstan and the need to get the older Slayer back on track that she forgot about Dawn. Warm fingers gently stroked her thigh. “Faith’s right. We have to stop wasting time. Buffy and Willow are probably upstairs by now.”
Loud, metallic banging rang out just beyond the door.
“Not to mention the fact that we’ve got a war going,” Dawn continued. “Let’s get started.”
Less than a heartbeat later, Faith felt the first touch through her link with Dawn. Now I know why there weren’t a lot of New Scoobies over the years. It takes too long to get them used to the pace. At this rate, the world will have almost ended a dozen times before they stop messing around.
It took everything Faith had not to laugh out loud. Be nice, D. She ignored the fact that she hadn’t exactly followed her own advice when she’d purposely antagonized Drew. Faith joined their hands and closed her eyes.
It was easier this time. Faith wasn’t afraid to pull down her barriers. At least, not with Dawn. She held out her astral hand and smiled in satisfaction when Dawn took it firmly. Settling into the familiar feel of Dawn in her mind, Faith took several slow breaths.
Then, before she could lose her new-found confidence, Faith extended her senses in the opposite direction.
Tara was there waiting. Her touch was soothing. Like Dawn, without the sexual overtones.
Really? Don’t let Drew hear you think that. You’ve got her pretty twisted up already. I don’t want to have to patch her up after she tries to tear your head off, Tara warned with a hint of laughter in her mental voice.
Faith felt a flush heat her physical cheeks, and saw pink tinge her inner sight. Sorry, T. Didn’t mean nothin’.
More gentle laughter and a waft of forgiveness
soothed Faith’s embarrassment. Don’t
worry. I’ll keep your secret safe. Now…
the Circle’s complete. Let’s see what Jennifer wants us to do.
The sudden internal quiet that followed Tara’s comment was shocking. Faith had never felt anything remotely like it. She floated, only dimly conscious of the five people linked with her.
Since the plans have changed, Jennifer’s mental voice rippled gently through Faith’s mind, we’re taking a cautious approach. Before Faith could disagree, Jennifer continued. With Buffy and Willow upstairs, this Circle is the last line of defense against the First. We stay linked, we stay focused, and we stay alive.
When she put it like that… Faith nodded physically; although, she felt the agreement from the rest of the Circle. Unfortunately, understanding the logic didn’t mean she didn’t have something to say. You plannin’ to let Red and B deal with the First alone? That thought rankled, and it went against everything the Scoobies stood for. Faith might never have reached full member status, but she knew that much
Jennifer didn’t appear to have an answer, though. There was no soothing mental voice, only a sharp echo of regret.
No way. Faith wasn’t accepting that. Staying alive might be the ultimate goal, but it wasn’t the only goal. Squeezing Dawn’s hand tighter and pulling her even closer through their link, Faith crossed a mental line. If you ain’t gonna help ‘em out, Mama Red, me and D will. She managed to keep the thought from sounding too accusatory. This wasn’t about playing General Faith. This was about beating the First while keeping as many of the gang alive as she could.
Drew and I are in, too. Tara’s mental voice was confident and firm. And I think I know how we can help Buffy and Willow get the Scythe.
Faith held her breath and waited.
Her patience paid off after what seemed like an eternity. We’re in, too, Kirstan said. She overrode the resistance Faith still sensed from Jennifer. It’s been a long time since we’ve been in the trenches, ladies. The pace is a lot faster than I remember.
Not to mention they probably hadn’t dealt with anything even close to the power of the First. Faith kept that firmly in mind as she accepted Kirstan’s help. It’s like ridin’ a bike, Old Timer. Strap on the helmet and pads and shit, and hang on. You’ll be back without the trainin’ wheels in no time. They were as close to full agreement as they were likely to get. Faith turned her attention away from team building. T? What do you got in mind?
***
Their entrance should have been fantastic, a testament to their status as superhero and superwitch. Unfortunately, reality was harsh and deflating. Instead of finding a stunned and off-balance First, Buffy leaped into the bedroom and confronted…
“Did your Watcher teach you dat?” Kendra stood ramrod straight in front of the bed and frowned in distaste. “I was taught dat hunting vampires and demons was an art. Kickin’ in doors, jumpin’ into rooms… It is not seemly for a Slayer to act like she was takin’ part in a video game.”
Buffy faltered for a second, staring at the perfectly composed vision in front of her. Kendra seemed so real. So alive. If Buffy reached out, she could touch her. And that was a problem. This wasn’t Kendra, despite the flawless reproduction. This was the First, and Buffy’s Slayer senses recoiled from the feel of the evil only a few feet away. “If this was a video game, I’d have already kicked your ass and picked up the points for grabbing the cool weapon over there.” She tried to keep from appearing too interested in the Scythe as it rested against the nearby nightstand.
For a non-human entity, the First reacted like one. Kendra scowled and lunged forward a step. “You will be the loser dis time. There will be no interference from de PtB to save you.”
“Newsflash,” Willow taunted from her position behind Buffy’s shoulder. “Not a vamp about to go poof in the sunlight. We don’t need a snowstorm.” Through their link, Buffy felt Willow pulling in power. “You might, though, when we fry you.”
There was a swirling sensation in Buffy’s head, followed by a moment of complete enervation.
“Get the Scythe, Buffy!” Willow shouted.
Buffy watched in dazed fascination, unable to move, as a bolt of white-hot flame shot over her shoulder. The Scythe. Buffy fought off her momentary weakness at that galvanizing thought and dove toward the head of the bed. Behind her, more bright lights and magical pyrotechnics exploded soundlessly.
She had almost reached the Scythe when a black-clad figure seemed to materialize in front of her. “You will not stop the work of the Lord,” he intoned.
Recognizing the Roman collar and the chilling intensity of the man’s speech, Buffy rolled to her feet – empty handed – and faced him. “Oh, I plan to do more than just stop him.” She spun on her left heel, swinging her right leg around in a tight arc toward the priest’s head.
He moved out of the way, brushing her foot aside with his left hand. With a pleased smirk, he launched an offensive of his own, driving Buffy back several steps with a series of punches. “Thankfully, I am here to protect the Lord’s mission from your interference.”
Avoiding the attack was difficult. The man was fast and strong. Far faster and stronger than Buffy had anticipated. As she ducked one flailing hand and sidestepped another, Buffy realized she had run out of room. Willow was right behind her, and the bed and the First hemmed her in on the other side.
***
Willow watched the levin bolt spring from her hand at the First. It had worked! She ignored the rapid dip of her reservoir and readied another one. She needed to cover Buffy as she retrieved the Scythe.
It became clear, however, that Willow should have listened to Drew and Jennifer discuss magic use and the First. The bolt of energy passed harmlessly through the First, leaving a jagged scorch mark on the wall.
Oops.
Determined to keep Buffy safe, Willow tried again. This time, though, she altered her mode of attack. Instead of a burst of pure power, she extended a thin layer of magic between herself and the First. Inch by inch, Willow pushed it outward, imitating her earlier efforts to shield the house. Unlike that unsuccessful effort, this barrier was denser, thanks to the smaller area to cover.
“Do you really think that’s going to do anything?” Willow’s shielding faltered when Jenny Calendar crossed her arms over her chest and regarded her with a disappointed expression. “Maybe Rupert was right – not that I’d ever tell him that. He’d never let me live it down.”
“Ms…Ms. Calendar?” It suddenly hurt to breathe. Willow sucked in a labored lungful of air and stared at the woman in front of her.
A familiar smile replaced Jenny’s frown. “Has it been that long? I didn’t think you’d forget me so quickly. I was your mentor. Your first teacher in the Arts.” She held out a hand. “You’ve grown so powerful. Why don’t you sit down, Willow? I’m sure there are a lot of other things I’ve missed. You can fill me in.”
Willow took a step forward, raising her hand. Her fingers reached for Jenny’s. Almost touching. Almost…And then Buffy shattered the illusion as she staggered into Willow’s view, nearly bumping into her. Barely avoiding the collision as Buffy struggled with a tall man, Willow shook her head. Damn it. She’d been the one to explain what little threat the First posed. Yet she was the one getting sucked in by its ability to mimic the dead.
Testing out her magical reservoir, Willow turned back to the thing that wore Jenny’s face. There was plenty of power in the pool. Should she use it? The blackened spot on the wall suggested not. To buy time, Willow met Jenny’s eyes and said, “You don’t look good, Ms. Calendar. Kind of thin in places, if you know what I mean.” She gestured at the bed. “Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”
Her verbal poke didn’t have the result Willow had hoped for. The First stopped smiling and now the evil was visible on Jenny’s face. “I am tired of playing with you.”
Something possessed Willow. That must have been why, without thinking, she mocked the First. “You aren’t doing much of anything. It’s your bruiser boyfriend over there that seems to be playing with Buffy.” A quick glance over her shoulder showed Willow that the fight was anything but a sparring match – and Buffy’s battered countenance and slowing movements didn’t indicate she was winning.
It was time for Willow to get back in the fight.
She tuned out Jenny’s voice as the First responded to her taunt. The First had tried its only trick and failed. Buffy needed her help with the priest. Willow didn’t even contemplate jumping into the battle physically. She’d only get in the way. No, her contribution had to be something more arcane.
The room disappeared as Willow sent her awareness deep inside. She surfed along her channels, testing and stirring up the waves of magic until they threatened to spill from their boundaries. Willow’s skin felt hot and tight, and she shook from the overload. Finally, when she was afraid she might blow apart, she opened her eyes and searched for the priest.
He and Buffy still fought only a few feet away. Not for long, Willow promised herself (and Buffy) silently.
She formed the magic pulsing inside into a white-hot ball of pure power. There would be nothing left of the First’s vessel by the time Willow finished with him. The First would have to learn to like being an incorporeal pain in everyone’s butt.
The magical weapon hovered between Willow’s cupped hands, waiting for an opening…
No. Willow’s concentration faltered. That wasn’t right. She couldn’t kill the vessel. The First would still exist. Would simply hunt until another qualified human agreed to become its host.
Willow wanted to scream in frustration. She wasn’t letting the First win. Not by default. There had to be another way. And she had to find if fast. Buffy was down, the priest standing over her with triumph written in his smirk. Her magic surged closer to the edges of control at the sight.
That’s when the faintest trace, a mere wisp, of an energy signature surrounding Buffy caught Willow’s attention.
What was that? In the span of a heartbeat, Willow traced the power from Buffy to the source. The Scythe. Dear Goddess, she was a fool. Burning with embarrassment at her oversight, Willow finally completed her and Buffy’s original mission. She reclaimed the Scythe.
Reaching out with an ephemeral hand, Willow once again seized a strand of the magic tying the Scythe to the Slayer line. Unlike when she’d done the same with Dawn, though, she didn’t waste her efforts by simply tracing the links to Buffy and the rest of her “descendants.”
Willow used them.
The pool of her personal power became paltry. Siphoning energy from Buffy was like drawing power from the sun. And Willow didn’t stop there. One by one, she tapped the Potentials. Kennedy, Amanda, Vi… Willow vowed to learn the names of the rest of the group even as she pulled them into the multiple-way link.
This was like nothing Willow had experienced. It was beyond her wildest imaginations. The power… It was nearly limitless. It shouldn’t have even been possible.
And Willow wasn’t finished yet.
The plan had been to overload the First. Well, Willow was all for following the plan. She just had to do what they’d practiced the night before. She had to include the Circle. It was in place. Willow felt the joined energies below, and it was reaching out to her.
She reached back.
Peering through a shimmering curtain of white light, Willow turned to the First. “Actually, play time is over.”
Jenny Calendar glared defiantly back. “You cannot defeat me. You do not know my true power,” it shouted. Jenny’s form wavered and then seemed to grow and change.
Sparks lit the air where the new shape touched the edges of Willow’s power.
Willow watched, horrified, as a horned demon rose in front of her. It stretched and flexed and a rumble like a freight train shook the room. It didn’t move toward her, however. It moved toward the priest, the Vessel, superimposing its strength on the man’s body.
Willow gripped desperately at the burning strands of power in her hands as the demon disappeared. Or…not. The looming, horned form was gone. However, its power and evil still rocked the room, staring out of the priest’s eyes, promising death and destruction.
“Behold!” the priest cried out. His hands rose toward the ceiling in benediction. “The Lord has truly graced us with his presence. Bow down and worship before him.”
Oh, boy. Willow might have rolled her eyes at the theatrics – if Buffy hadn’t already been on the floor at the man’s feet. Taking a quick glance, Willow noted the bruises and fresh blood dotting the skin under Buffy’s nose and around her lips. “Sorry,” she ground out, more angry than she’d ever been. No one…no one got to do that to her wife.
Vengeance was a given, and the path had already been laid.
Drawing the borrowed energy closer, Willow pressed each strand into the seething waves of magic already filling her channels. As if she had tossed sugar into boiling water, the coils of power melted and mixed with her personal energy. The sense of other, of individuality, that had imbued the strands faded. What remained carried only a residual flavor of the Potentials and the Circle. The power mixed smoothly and became Willow’s alone.
Holding that well of power close, she paced forward slowly. “I don’t think I feel like kneeling. Or worshipping.” That was so far from her mind. “How about you? Would you like to try it? You’ve never seen anything like me before,” Willow warned the First.
Its laughter was no surprise. In fact, it was gratifying, and it made Willow’s next choice easy.
“Ah, well. All that scraping and groveling would probably get old, anyway.” Jennifer had theorized that holding the First inside the Vessel wouldn’t be possible. That was before Willow had found a way to use the Scythe. There was no doubt in Willow’s now that there would be enough energy to create a barrier and overload the First. Snapping up her right hand, Willow threw out a replica of the thin shield she’d tried earlier in her fight with the First. She didn’t let it hover protectively between them, however. She pushed it out rapidly, not wanting to give away the barrier’s true purpose until it was too late.
As the shimmering blue bubble floated across the room, the First went on the offensive. It bent, one hand gripping Buffy’s throat and lifting her off the floor. “For centuries, I’ve had to run from the likes of you, Slayer. I will run no longer.”
The shield bubble fluttered wildly as Willow stared at Buffy. Her wife was conscious. Willow saw one hand grip the First’s wrist with no result.
If Buffy couldn’t free herself… Well, Willow (and her magical coterie) certainly could. Giving up on hiding her intent, she pressed the shimmering shield at the First, ignoring the arm it waved and the burst of power it tossed out in an effort to dissipate the energy.
A swirl of music played the Darth Vader theme in Willow’s mind as she marched her shield closer and closer.
This was going to work. It had to. Buffy’s pallor had passed ghost-like and was rapidly approaching funereal. Buffy had cheated death before, and Willow fully intended for this to be another check in the Living column. Letting the music swell to a thundering crescendo that only she could hear, Willow blew the shield the final few inches.
It touched the priest/First’s outstretched right hand and clung there.
The First’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No! I am…”
“Corporeal,” Willow finished for it. “Guess they didn’t put that in the Vessels for Dummies handbook, huh?” More and more of the shield coated the First. Its entire right side was draped in pulsating blue energy and the leading edge crept up its neck. It was time to free Buffy so that all of the First would be available to the magic.
Hitting the First with a blast of power was too risky. Willow didn’t want to unveil the next step in their plan. There had to be another way. Gathering a second ball of energy while maintaining her hold on the shield was tricky. Willow juggled the complex flow of magic, watching the advance of the blue ichor on the First slow to a crawl.
No. They weren’t losing. Not now.
Willow found her balance amid the magic by sheer force of will. Channels burning from the bright blaze of power, she set the new, glittering ball of energy in the frothing waves of joined power and…blew. It took off like a pinball whacked by the flippers and picked up speed with each heartbeat. The magic zipped through Willow and into her link with Buffy.
And, like the First and the priest, Willow found her Vessel. Battered, bruised, and barely breathing, Buffy suddenly surged erect as the ball of molten energy filled her. White light coalesced around her.
“No!” The First’s cry mingled with Buffy’s and it flung her away as its hand began to smoke.
It was time. Willow had expected to feel afraid…overwhelmed…something. What she and the others in the gestalt were about to attempt was possible in theory. As Willow opened the floodgates of her welling power and began to turn theory into reality, she felt only a sense of peace.
And then pain. Burning, searing agony flowed along with the magic Willow poured into the First and its Vessel. Each breath drew superheated air into her lungs. Each heartbeat pushed blood turned to lava through her veins.
Willow wanted to pull back. She needed to pull back, to end the pain. And she couldn’t. Pulling back meant letting the First win. In some remote recess of her mind, Willow wryly wondered if this was what Buffy had faced with the Master and Adam and every other vampire and demon out to end the world or kill the Slayer. If so, Willow was completely on board about never, ever fighting on the front lines again.
Unfortunately, that left Willow with a dilemma. If she couldn’t stop the power flow, she needed a way to at least make her suffering shorter – or more bearable. Using the last of her energy, Willow created a typhoon of mystical wind and turned it loose on the rapidly depleting pool of her personal reservoir.
The wild wind whipped at the already active waves of magic. Now for the hard part: controlling the increasing power of the internal storm. Willow held the funnel cloud between shaking ephemeral hands and steered it in the direction she wanted. Inch by inch, it moved, driving the blue waves through the open gates of her reservoir. Each successive swell sent more magic into Willow’s channels. Magic that poured out into the container created for it.
The First began to glow. Its voice rose in a cry of…protest? Exultation? Willow couldn’t tell and truly didn’t care. She only cared about maintaining her hold on the magical barrier keeping the First inside the Vessel and filling it to the brim.
After what seemed a lifetime, Willow realized she must be close to the end. The First was moving in her direction, and its obsidian eyes blazed with triumph. “Fools! You are fools!” it shouted. “Whatever your plans, they have failed. I am more powerful than ever!”
Actually, Willow wanted to protest, that was the plan. At least in part. She didn’t have the energy to form the words of an explanation, though. The gestalt had come to the end of even its massive supply of magic. The last dregs of power dribbled through Willow’s channels. Her own reservoir held nothing except a few shimmering blue droplets.
Peering at the First through a haze of energy, Willow checked on their progress. Magic pressed against the barrier she’d placed around the priest, but it shimmied and bulged. They were so close. So very close to the spill point.
Those tiny drops slowly drying on the floor of her reservoir would have to be enough for the final push. Willow gathered them up, the amount barely filling the cupped palm of one hand, and threw it into the First’s ‘cup’. As the blue beads sailed through the air, the gestalt dissolved, leaving Willow alone in her head.
She barely noticed, too focused on the dregs of energy flying toward the First. As they landed, the liquid power welling inside the First rose higher. Rose and…quivered. Willow saw the shield bubble shake again.
The First must have seen it, too. It turned to her and threw out a hand, lightening crackling from its fingers. Unfortunately, the effort only made its situation worse. Habit - or the need to utterly crush Willow - drove the First to ignore the power already surrounding it. And, as it sucked the ambient energy from the room, the First overloaded.
Willow had pushed her own reserves to the brim on more than one occasion since reaching the ranch. As she watched the First begin to glow with an unearthly red light, she fervently thanked her parents and whatever gods where listening for their insistence on learning control. The angry glow made the Vessel look as if he’d been dipped in paint – until pieces of his face and body chipped away. Then the light sprang out in ever widening beams.
Scrambling to avoid the wild magic, Willow dropped to the floor and severed the remaining link between herself and the First. She needed a shield…something to keep her and Buffy safe.
Buffy!
Willow lost all interest in the sight of the First slowly breaking apart. Tuned out its screams of frustrated rage. She had to get to where Buffy sprawled, still recovering from her flight through the room. Trying to stay as close to the floor as possible, Willow wiggled and squirmed across the carpet. “Buffy?” she whispered as she moved.
Only a flicker of an eyelid revealed Buffy’s awareness.
“Buffy, we have to…” Willow was about to explain the need for protection when the floor under her trembled. They were out of time, and there was nothing left in the tank. Literally. Willow’s reservoir was dry.
Then an impatient voice from Willow’s past whispered, I tried to tell you that you didn’t always have to use your own resources, Willow. Use the energy in the room!
Wincing at that tiny Tara voice speaking from her memories, Willow checked out her options. She couldn’t use the energy in the room. The spindles of uncontrolled magic now pouring from the crumbling hulk of the First would rip her apart along with the Vessel. Willow closed her eyes and hunted for something less volatile - and found what she needed. It wasn’t much, only a hint of clean magical energy left around a floral arrangement on the bathroom vanity.
A little was better than nothing. Willow spun and wove the thread of power into the thinnest of blankets and wrapped it over herself and Buffy. Through the transparent covering, she watched as more and more light shone through the Vessel. It filled the room, heavy and pulsing and brighter than the sun. Willow squinted against it. She needed to see the finale. She had to know the First was finally gone.
Her eyes watered from the glare, but Willow persevered. It was almost over. Only the First’s torso remained, and that was disappearing in chunks. The red light grew impossibly brighter, superimposing the image of the Vessel on Willow’s vision. Her right hand rose automatically to shade her eyes as the last vestige of the First exploded in a rain of fiery energy.
***
Faith opened her eyes slowly. Even that was too fast. The light leaking through the closed curtains hurt. Hurt… It was such a lame description for the head-splitting pounding. A groan tore from her throat, setting off more hammering.
Through the pain, Faith heard other moans and groans.
Pushing her own discomfort as far away as possible, Faith peered blearily around the room. The rest of the Circle lay on the floor. “D?” Faith’s voice creaked with disuse and sudden tension. Dawn wasn’t moving, and her eyes were closed. “Dawn?” Faith lurched onto her hands and knees, nearly blacking out as the movement sent invisible knives stabbing into her head.
The inches between them seemed like miles. Finally, though, Faith pressed a shaking hand to Dawn’s face and saw Dawn’s eyelids twitch. “I want…to die,” Dawn mumbled.
“Sorry, D.” Faith didn’t care about her headache now. Dawn was alive – even if she didn’t appear to be happy about that. Grinning, she stroked Dawn’s cheek. “Looks like we made it through another end of the world. Now get up,” she ordered. “We gotta check on the rest of the crew.” Now that Dawn was aware, Faith wasn’t overly concerned with the members of the Circle. They were stirring; in fact, Drew was sitting next to Tara in a pose mirroring Faith’s.
The Potentials and the AI gang, though… They hadn’t been locked safely in a room.
That thought motivated Faith enough to stagger to her feet and hold a hand out to help Dawn. “Come on, babe. Nappin’s gotta wait.” She winked at Dawn’s scowl. “You look like B when you do that.”
Dawn’s expression smoothed immediately at her comment. “Just wait. Paybacks are a bitch,” she mumbled before moaning and stretching after Faith pulled her upright.
“I’ll look forward to it.” Unfortunately, Faith wasn’t looking forward to what waited for them in the hallway. Despite her reluctance, though, she strode to the door and opened it carefully. Buffy had taken the only weapon, and Faith wasn’t ready to believe defeating the First meant the rest of its army was gone, too.
Bodies littered the hall and the first few stairs. Most of them wore robes. A few of them didn’t.
Faith closed her eyes and swallowed against the sickness trying to escape. “D, get with Kirstan and Jennifer. We’re gonna need to move the ‘Bringers outside.” She had to clear her throat before she could force the next words out. “And we need to get the kids covered and layin’ someplace else, too.”
“What…what happened to them?” Faith heard barely suppressed tears in Dawn’s whispered question.
“I guess…” Faith forced herself to look closely at the dead Potential on the staircase. “I guess the ‘Bringers was too much for Amanda.” The knife handle protruding from Amanda’s chest left little doubt about the cause of her death.
It should have been her. Faith stared at Amanda’s body. She should have been the one fighting.
“Why don’t you go find Xander or Giles?” Dawn’s hand gripped Faith’s shoulder tightly for a second. “I’ll take care of Amanda.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that.” Stepping away from the grisly scene was the hardest thing Faith had ever done. Arms and legs heavy and uncoordinated, she stumbled toward the kitchen. More bodies waited for her there. More ‘Bringers. More Potentials. A couple of Watchers.
The room blurred, and Faith didn’t have the energy to swipe at the tears suddenly running down her cheeks. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. The Scoobies were supposed to win without losing anyone.
“I take it the First is toast?” Xander’s quiet voice barely penetrated Faith’s examination of the kitchen. “Or is this what the end of the world looks like?”
Faith glanced at him. “What the fuck happened out here?” The words were tight and harsh. Faith didn’t care about the First – or about sounding polite. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now.
Xander stiffened at her demand. “I don’t know,” he answered.
“What…” Faith wasn’t accepting excuses.
“I don’t know!” They glared at each other for a second, and then Xander slumped. “We were beating them back, I thought. There were fewer of them than us, anyway. And all of a sudden, Marcy and Beth staggered. Like someone flicked the ‘off’ switch on their Potential Slayers.” His voice broke and he covered his eyes with a hand. “After that…”
After that, they died. Faith filled that in on her own. All of her anger drained away. No one had turned off the Slayers or Potential Slayers. Someone had borrowed them. Willow. Faith remembered the way all of her energy had been sucked out when the Circle had joined with Willow against the First. If that happened during a fight… “We have to get the bodies out of here.” Just looking at them was twisting Faith inside. There had been death and destruction in her past, some of it her fault. But she’d never had to witness, to acknowledge her culpability for something this large.
Willow would break under the strain.
“We’re working on it.” Xander dropped his hand and shrugged. “It’s hard; there aren’t a lot of hands on deck right now. “
Had they lost all of the Potentials? Faith didn’t want to ask. She really didn’t. “Don’t matter about the numbers, X-man.” She met his eyes. “Red and B’ll be here soon.” If they could still walk after the battle. “They can’t see the kids like this.”
Faith could feel Xander waiting for more, but he wasn’t getting it. He must have realized that, too. “Where do you want them?”
“The barn.” The conversation was surreal. Faith watched numbly as Xander nodded and slipped out of the kitchen. Getting reinforcements or passing along the message, she hoped. And while he was gone, she could start cleaning up the evidence. Bending and slipping her arms under Marcy’s shoulders and knees, Faith picked up the blood-stained and stiffened body.
“Don’t ask us not to go,” Buffy said, not bothering to turn around. She’d felt Faith approaching, and she wasn’t giving even an inch.
A booted foot settled onto the railing next to Buffy’s. “B, have you been drinkin’?” Faith chuckled and bumped Buffy’s shoulder as she leaned over and stared across the field. “Why the fuck would I want you and Red to stay?”
Now that Faith mentioned it, the idea didn’t make much sense. “Uh…” Buffy mumbled. Then, in a burst of honesty, she continued. “Actually, I think I’m wigging over the fact no one is begging us to stay.” She grinned as Faith laughed again. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m crazy. I’ve been planning this trip since you showed up in Sunnydale the first time, and now that Will and I have the car packed, I can’t believe it’s really happening.”
In fact, Buffy fully expected to wake up from the dream at any moment.
“Can’t believe or don’t want to believe?” Faith shrugged defensively at Buffy’s disbelieving look.
“What do you mean?” Buffy asked the question, even though she thought she knew what Faith meant.
Faith must have known, too. She turned to fully face Buffy, foot dropping to the ground. “Come on, B. You ain’t stupid, despite the hair. Are you afraid another Big Bad’s gonna show up before you get down the driveway, or does General Buffy not trust me to keep things runnin’?”
Staring at Faith, Buffy tried to find an answer. Did she trust Faith?
That was easy.
“Now who’s acting blonde?” She poked a finger into Faith’s chest. “Please. Of course I trust you. I mean, I haven’t said one word about this crazy plan you have to turn Willow’s parents into Professor Xavier and Jean Grey.”
They both laughed. “You think we could get Mama Red to cut her hair and put on one of them leather jumpsuits?” Faith smirked. “She’d look hot.”
“And Kirstan would kick your ass for even thinking that.” Come to think of it… Buffy narrowed her eyes. “I should probably do a little kicking of my own. Jennifer and Willow look an awful lot alike.” An evil idea occurred. “And I bet Tara would have a few things to say – magically – about you checking out Drew, too.”
“That’s just mean, B,” Faith muttered with a scowl. “Mean. I’m gonna tell D on you.”
Buffy raised an eyebrow. “You are so whipped.” Who would have ever believed it?
“Hell, yeah, B, and lovin’ every minute of it.” Faith threw an arm around Buffy, and she dragged Buffy away from the railing. “Are you sayin’ Red don’t have you jumping to her tune? ‘Cause I seem to remember you nearly running me down on the way to the bedroom the other night…”
“Bitch.” Buffy tried to jab an elbow into Faith’s side, missing only because Faith danced out of the way.
“That’s General Bitch to you, B,” Faith pointed out. “And don’t you forget it.”
***
Willow walked slowly into the Training Barn. It was a far different experience than her first trip into the large building. The floor was completely covered in soft padding now. Gleaming weapons lined the walls in rigid rows. “Plus, I’m not dangling over Mom’s shoulder…”
“If you want, I can arrange a replay.” Kirstan stepped out of the shadows and waved a hand in welcome. “Normally, though, it only takes one trip like that. I didn’t expect you to be the slow learner in the family.”
“Damned Slayer hearing,” Willow complained, not having intended to share her reminiscence with anyone. “Not to mention the hiding in the corner bit. Are you trying to get a reputation? Scare a few of the new Slayers?” She struggled to control a grin at Kirstan’s flush. “That’s it. You’re playing Bad Cop, aren’t you?”
Kirstan stalked forward a few steps. “You keep that to yourself, missy. We’re going to have enough problems with seven new Slayers and more Potentials showing up every day. I’ve already had to break up three fights this morning, and I can hear an argument over the sleeping arrangements all the way from the house.” She rubbed her eyes. “Now I know why the Council trainers looked rumpled and grumpy all the time. Corralling the energy and aggression in the Juniors is worse than taming a powerful prodigal daughter.”
Rolling her eyes, Willow pointed out one key point. “You love every minute of it.”
“Who, me?” Kirstan’s expression of innocence was so obviously faked that Willow giggled.
“I’ll keep that a secret, too. After all, you won’t get any sympathy from Mama if she knows you aren’t overworked and abused.” As Willow held a hand out to Kirstan, her levity faded slightly. She’d forgotten, for a split second, her original reason for coming to the Barn. “We’re packed.”
Kirstan’s warm, callused palm covered Willow’s seconds before her fingers squeezed Willow’s hand gently. “You look like it’s the end of the world, daughter mine. We survived that last month.” She pulled Willow into a tight hug. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet…?” Laughter rumbled through her, vibrating against Willow. “Actually, put that on the list of things not to tell your mother. I’ll never hear the end of how my bad genes filtered down to you.”
Tilting her head back (and ignoring the tears slipping down her cheeks), Willow peered up at Kirstan. “You got cold feet?” No way. Her parents seemed so devoted to each other.
“It took three other Potentials and a very stern lecture from my Watcher to get me to the altar.” Kirstan’s blush covered her face and turned the tips of her ears brick red. “I blame it all on the bachelorette party the night before. Booze and nerves never mix well.”
“At least you didn’t turn into a Neanderthal and thump people with sticks,” Willow mumbled. Her lips twitched, though, as she created a mental image of Cave Buffy side by side with Kirstan the Drunken Groom. Maybe she should suggest the new training academy ban Slayers and Potentials from drinking anything stronger than Kool-Aid.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Kirstan turned her toward the door and began to propel them forward. “Come on. No more dawdling. You and Buffy need to hit the road.” Kirstan’s voice was soft and husky. “But not before we make a pit stop in the kitchen. Jenny will turn us both into frogs if you don’t stop in for a hug and some advice…”
“Not frogs.” Shuddering dramatically, Willow said, “I have frog fear. How about a rat? I think Amy’s old cage is still at Buffy’s house.” She didn’t offer to explain, despite the inquiring eyebrow Kirstan cocked in her direction. As they emerged into the morning sun, Willow felt the warmth drove away the chill of uncertainty and indecision that had been with her.
The sight of a laughing Buffy chasing Faith across the field helped even more.
“You know what?” Willow leaned back into Kirstan for a second before stepping away. “Mama won’t need to use any magical threats. It’s time for me and Buffy to see something besides cemeteries and libraries.” Reaching into her pocket, she touched the car keys and smiled. It was so time…
THE END
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