Finding Her Way Home
by rebelrsr
Chapter 11
[reviews]
Disclaimer: All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and lots of people in expensive suits. I'm not making any money here, just trying to create a happier Buffyverse for my favorite characters.
Spoilers, etc.: "Dopplegangland," "Something Blue" and everything after "The Gift."
A/N: Character thoughts are enclosed by **. Flashbacks are enclosed by //. Thanks to Zenithar and Zigpal for the beta and encouragement! I couldn't do it without you.
Archiving: By permission only.
"Faith?" Tara said, turning back to Buffy. "Isn't she in prison?"
"Not anymore." The Slayer shrugged. "Apparently she broke out to help the A.I. gang with the Angel situation."
The witch walked back to the bench and resumed her seat. "Sweetie, aren't you over-reacting? We don't even know what's coming. I mean, Willow's problem is big, but Giles has some help lined up. Shouldn't we wait until we know what we might be facing before we panic?"
Buffy stared blankly over Tara's head. Finally, she said, "Normally, I'd say yes. But the thing with Glory really had me thinking. I've been so arrogant, Tara." The blonde witch looked shocked. "I mean, it never occurred to me to ask for help. Hello! She was a Hell God, and we took her on with no real plan in mind. What if we'd had another Slayer? What if Angel and his crew had provided backup? Maybe together we could have found a way to seal the Portal without me diving in."
The younger girl smiled sadly. "I'd do this alone if it only affected me. But Willow's at the very eye of the storm. I'm not going to take any chances this time."
Tara acknowledged the wisdom of the Slayer's argument. Why shouldn't they go into this battle with every available resource at their disposal? "Alright. I'll do it."
The standing blonde grinned in relief.
"But, Buffy, you're still making assumptions. Angel may not have any more information than we do. And, sweetie, Faith knows her welcome here won't be a pleasant one. What if she won't come?"
"Then you tell her that once we've beaten this particular evil, she can take her best shot at me." The Slayer's voice was flat, unemotional. "You tell Faith I need her help to save Willow. Once that's done, I'll let her take whatever revenge she thinks she needs."
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Tara began. The implacable look in Buffy's hazel eyes stopped the words. "OK. I'll go to L.A." The witch stood. "You go on to Willie's and I'll stop by your place to get the magical supplies and call Mr. Giles."
"Great." Buffy sounded relieved. "You can take the Jeep. It's gassed up, and I won't need it."
***
The Slayer jogged across the UCS campus feeling like a new person. Tara was on her way to the house to pick up the re-souling kit and to call Giles. It was time for some action. Reaching the edge of the university, Buffy slowed. If she entered Willie's without a plan, she'd never get the information she needed. She thought back over the last several weeks. Patrol had been routine. Or had it? She'd been so numb lately. Had she missed some unusual demon or vamp activity?
Wandering down Main Street, the Slayer tried to take more notice of her surroundings. The weather was colder than usual for Southern California, even allowing for the mid-February timing. Only a few people cluttered the sidewalk. And they all seemed in a hurry to. Buffy shook off a sudden chill. She had to stay focused. Even with her preoccupation, the Slayer was sure there hadn't been any changes in demon activity. If there was a Big Bad on the way, the lack of change was worrisome all on its own.
In the Slayer's experience, great evil either meant a drastic increase in low level demons and run of the mill vampires or a complete lack of both. Some would-be world dominators needed henchmen to help with their scheme. Others were so powerful regular creatures of the night fled in terror. Lost in thought, the blonde girl continued her trek to the demon bar.
Entering the dimly lit barroom quietly, the Slayer extended her senses and gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. Not surprisingly, the room was empty. Buffy walked over and peered over the long gleaming expanse of the bar. Nothing. No sign of customers or the oily bartender. Deciding to wait a minute before exploring on her own, Buffy dropped onto a barstool and absently grabbed a handful of peanuts from a bowl.
A door slammed in the back of the building and the Slayer swallowed her breakfast and stood. Seconds later, the namesake of the bar wandered in from the storeroom.
"Hey, Willie. Been a while," Buffy greeted him.
Jerking at the unexpected voice, the little man dropped the case of liquor in his arms. The Slayer was sure she'd never heard a sweeter sound as the dozen bottles shattered on the floor and the bar owner cursed.
"Sorry about that," she said insincerely.
"Slayer, I should have known." Willie glared at the grinning blonde.
Leaning her upper body against the wood of the bar, Buffy commented, "Why, Willie, it almost sounds as if you don't like me. I'm all hurt and everything." Although she was enjoying herself more than she had in a long time, the Slayer knew it was time to get down to business.
"So, Willie, got any tidbits of information for me?" she cooed. "I mean, if there was something big coming to town, you'd tell me, right?"
"Sure, sure," Willie agreed. "I always take care of the local talent."
"Good," the Slayer purred. She watched the bartender respond to the seductive tone and smirked. "Because, if I find you're holding out on me, I'll have to send my sister in here to straighten you out."
Buffy barely managed to contain her laughter at the confused look Willie wore. "Your sister? The small fry that hangs out at the Pump?"
"Oh, no. Dawn's not coming anywhere near this place, Willie. My *othe*r sister, Faith. You remember her, don't you? She likes leather, dirty dancing, and violence." She waited for the bartender to make the connection.
"Faith...Faith!" His eyes widened. "Really, Slayer, I ain't heard nothing."
"I believe you, Willie." Buffy grabbed a handful of nuts for the road. "Make sure to let me know if things change," she tossed over her shoulder, heading for the door.
Leaving the bar, the Slayer decided to return home. Tara should have been able to reach Giles by now, and Buffy really wanted to know more about the witch who would be helping Willow. She didn't quite jog, but she didn't dawdle either.
Thirty minutes later, the oldest Summers trotted up the front walk, noticing the empty driveway. So, Tara was already L.A. bound. Opening the door and heading immediately for the kitchen, Buffy hoped the witch's quick departure wasn't a bad sign. Tara had taped a note to the refrigerator, the Slayer saw. Ripping off the message, the blonde scanned the neat handwriting. The information resulted in a frown. Stuffing the paper in her pocket, the blonde raced up the stairs and into her room. Digging through the mess in the nightstand, she finally located a crumpled piece of notebook paper.
It was the name and address of Willow's family outside Sunnydale. Holding it in one hand, Buffy drew Tara's note from her pocket. The names were the same. The Devonshire Coven recommended Jennifer Hirsch as a magical trainer for the struggling red head.
***
*Maybe breakfast wasn't such a good idea*, Willow thought. Her stomach rolled alarmingly as she watched the two older women enter the small den. Jennifer looked exhausted. She leaned into Kirstan, who wrapped a supporting arm around the shorter woman. Witch and ex-Slayer settled together on the loveseat opposite Willow.
"I need to know what you found," the younger girl said. It came out harsher than intended, but Willow was too tense to make an apology.
Jennifer looked at her without speaking.
The hacker-turned-witch resisted the urge to squirm. She remembered that look from when Mrs. Summers was still alive. Pure Mom-ness poured from those green eyes. Willow, however, had helped defeat a Hell God. Calling on reserves of stubbornness, she met the stare and waited for an answer.
"Girls," Kirstan broke in dryly, "this isn't the time to see who'll blink first."
"Sorry, love." Jennifer leaned her head against her wife's shoulder. "OK, little girl, let's talk about exactly what happened during that resurrection spell."
Willow tensed in the overstuffed chair. This was it. "You found something?"
Jennifer nodded. "There were footprints deep in your mind. Whatever was there is gone now. We aren't dealing with possession. The trail led to your power reserve before disappearing."
Willow sucked in a deep breath. "OK. So, this *thing* tried to drain my power?"
"No, I don't think so." The older witch looked thoughtful. "I believe, though I can't prove anything, the entity intended to release your potential. There were no signs that power was pulled through the gap in the barrier. Instead, it looked as if power had been forced through the wall and *into* the stored power."
The explanation didn't make sense. Willow tried to get her thoughts together, but Kirstan asked first, "Baby, what does that mean? Wouldn't magic placed into the reservoir just get stored with the rest?"
"No." Jennifer sounded certain. "Pour in enough power, and the levels would rise."
Willow finally got the point. "Like filling a glass too full. Once you've reached the top of the wall, the power would pour out." She paused for a second. "But that doesn't explain the way the wall collapsed. That rubble was too old for Rack. In order for the wall to crumble, whatever entered my mind had to keep pouring in power until the dam." She met Jennifer's eyes. "That's a whole lot of power for an ephemeral being."
Her mother agreed. "It is. As soon as we got you settled, I hit the books. I couldn't find anything."
"I even tried the Council. They're going to keep looking, but the researcher I talked to said the situation didn't sound like anything they'd recorded before." Kirstan looked at the head nestled on her shoulder. "Jenny and I have feelers out in the Slayer and Wiccan communities, trying to find information. But," she said quietly, "we couldn't give anyone too much information."
The words didn't make sense at first. Willow blamed it on the last few harrowing days. Slowly, Kirstan's meaning became clear. "You're afraid that if anyone finds out what happened with me and how powerful I've gotten, they'll try to kill me."
Her mothers looked pained at the description.
"So, what's the next step? The barrier held after the mind probe, but there are huge leaks now," Willow said.
"We need to find a way to shore up the wall until we unearth a way to either make the barrier permanent or to siphon off some of the power overflow, you have to trust that nothing will slip through the cracks," Jennifer replied.
The older witch might have continued, but a sharp knock sounded on the door. "Mom?" Drew called from outside. "There's a message on the voice mail you guys really need to hear."