FIC: Born Again (5/?)

["cilia" <cilia@xxxxxxxxx>]

Well it took me and my Beta long enough, but here it is.

Title: Born Again
Part: 4
Author: Cilia
E-mail: cilia@xxxxxxxxx
Feedback: Oh yes with and extra order of complements.
Distribution: Go for it, but keep my name attached and please tell me about
it.
Rating: PG
Summary: Willow has come to Europe to stand on her own two feet, but an old
friend might be just around the corner.
Thanks to Ollie for beta reading this and Stan for reading this and telling
me straight out what was wrong with it.


Born Again
Cilia

Chapter 4

Willow loved the Sunday markets, they came as a blessing after the Saturdays
spent reading through term papers. The people on her street knew that she
was responsible for keeping the vampires out, although they would never
admit to believing in them. All they knew was that since the young American
girl had moved in, there hadn't been a single killing.
She was sizing up water melons at Old Mary's market stand. It
had a wide variety of gardening produce from melons to herbs that the old
woman kept under the table for special customers (mainly women who needed
something to help their men's problems). Everybody called her Old Mary,
well, because she WAS old. There was a young Mary of course, who was the
grand-daughter of the older. Both had the same brown eyes, but Old Mary's
hair was gray with age. Willow suspected that the old woman was wiccan.
"Will there be anything else dear?" the old woman asked as
Willow placed the coins in her palm.
"Nothing more for me today, Mary," Willow answered with a smile.
"You sure, if your boyfriend isn't up to par then I have some
roots that might help," the old woman said and reached under the table.
Willow smiled. Old Maria did this every Sunday and she admired the old woman
's straight forward attitude.
"You ask me that every Sunday and, as always, the answer is the
same," Willow answered in a gentle voice.
"You don't have, nor desire a boyfriend. Yes I know, but you can
't blame an old woman for trying. Such a nice girl you shouldn't be alone,"
Old Maria answered.
"See you next Sunday Mary," Willow's said with the same silly
smile.
Without Willow noticing, Old Mary slipped on envelope with some herbs into
her basket as she turned, the envelope also contained info that she and
young Mary had gathered during the week.
"Good morning father Ezekiel," Willow greeted as she past the
church steps.
"Morning, Miss Rosenberg," the middle aged man greeted. Father
Ezekiel was in his late fifties, with graying hair and eyes that just
screamed confess. He had frowned upon many things in his congress, young
Mary and some of the younger women being one of them, but Willow was in his
good graces and frankly out of his jurisdiction.
"So any new gossip," Willow asked with grin.
"Nothing you don't already know Miss Rosenberg," the priest said
in weary voice.
"The database holding up?" she asked. She'd designed a church
database for the church to keep track originally of the body count, but now
it was mainly used to log marriages and births.
"No new entries on the funeral list thank god," the priest
answered and handed her a bottle of water.
"Have a nice day father," she said with nod and placed the
bottle in her basket.
She'd only gone few steps from the steps when the local girls caught up with
her. Sure they were nice enough, but had no clue what went on in the city.
They also seemed to idolize her.
"So flirting with father Ezekiel again," Little Mary asked, she
was the youngest of the Mary women and a spitting image of great-grandmother
"Just keeping him on his toes," Willow answered innocently.
"He's too old for you, but if you're into that sort of thing I
guess it's okay," Sarah, the storeowner's daughter stated. She was tall,
almost regal, with blond hair and blue eyes and rarely sat on thoughts. She
reminded Willow of two girls he knew.
"I'm standing right here," Faith the daughter of said priest
exclaimed. She was short with powder blond hair and gray eyes and much to
Willow's pleasure the name was the only thing the girl had in common with
Faith.
"Don't worry, what feelings I have for the old man are purely
platonic," Willow assured the girl.
"It wouldn't hurt if he'd get some though," Sarah stated.
"Sarah!" both Faith and Little Mary exclaimed.
"Look boys," Sarah exclaimed and Little Mary sighed.
"Take care girls," Willow said with a smile as she went on with
her shopping.
"Keep up the good work," Mary said as Sarah dragged her and
Faith towards three fine, or at least in her opinion, specimens of the human
male.
"Some things never change," an unknown voice said from behind
her and Willow had to fight the urge to spin around. Instead she calmly
turned around and faced the owner of the voice. It was a young woman, barely
twenty, with dark hair and brown eyes, hidden under delicate glasses and she
had an aura about her, something Willow couldn't quite put her finger on.
"No, they don't," Willow nodded as she sized the new arrival up.
"Where are my manners," the woman said and offered her hand. "My
name is Susan Swift," she said.
"Willow Rosenberg," Willow said and shook the offered hand.
"I was born here you know," the woman said as she looked around.
"Here?" Willow asked and pointed down.
"No actually over there," the woman said and pointed towards the
church steps, "I'm here to find father Ezekiel," she said.
"Well he's probably still on the church steps," Willow said.
"Nice to see things are still the same," the woman said, "well I
've taken up enough of your time. Have a nice day," she said.
"See you around," Willow said and made mental note. Check up on
one Susan Swift.
"Well, what more do I need?" she said to herself as she looked
over her basket. When she saw she had everything she needed she strolled out
of the market and saluting the local police officer that stood guard at the
entrance to the square. The night's patrol waited.
It was well past three in the morning when she got back from her rounds and
started hacking away, looking for information on Susan Swift. Unknown to
her, the house was being watched. Across the street, somewhere in the
shadows, a man from her past looked up at the light in her window.
"Bloody hell, why won't you let me be?" he cursed and lit a match
that illuminated his face for the moment. Spike had given up smoking at her
request and never started again, it was his way of remembering her.

TBC....