Finding Her Way Home
by rebelrsr
Chapter 27
[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.: Pretty much everything after the Gift.
A/N: Character thoughts are enclosed by **. Flashbacks are enclosed by //. Thanks to Ivy for the preread and Zigpal for the beta and encouragement! I couldn't do it without you.
Archiving: By permission only.
A/N2: I'm mixing parts of S6 and S7 with very little regard to canon. For purposes of the fic, Dawn is over the age of consent *wink*.
Faith's announcement energized the Scoobies slumped in the living room. Voices swarmed around her, all of them repeating the same phrase: "What's wrong with Buffy?" Waving a hand to silence the din, Faith jumped up to sit on the large table at the front of the room. "B's fine. Just tired. I guess comin' back from the dead ain't as easy as it looks. Red's got it covered, though. She and B are in some cabin sleeping and meditating." The words were smooth, firm. However, Faith waited, sure someone would see her nervousness or realize she was glossing over a lot of information.
To her surprise, though, no one questioned her comments. Placing her sweating palms flat on the table next to her, Faith took a slow, deep breath and surveyed her little army. Not much when you considered what they were up against. "The girls are going to be out of it for a while. B asked me to play messenger until she got back." *Not exactly a lie...*Faith thought.
"Really?" Anya piped in. "I thought Buffy hated you. And, if Buffy's tired, why is Willow not here? Does Buffy need help sleeping?"
Sweat sprung out all over, and Faith fought the urge to wipe at the droplets dripping into her eyes. "Hey, Demon-girl, save it. If B wants to have a slumber party for two, I ain't asking questions. I'm just glad Red didn't fry me or something."
Anya, of course, wasn't content with that. "All I was saying is-" Xander's hand over her mouth stopped the flow of words.
"Sorry, Faith." He grimaced in what Faith supposed was an attempt to smile. "Ignore her. Once she locks onto a topic, well, she's kinda hard to get off."
"No problem." There was an uncomfortable silence, and Faith realized they were all waiting for her to say something. "So, um, I was catching some z's when you were figuring stuff out. Wanna fill me in on where we stand?"
Tara smiled at her from the couch. "From a magic standpoint, we've got a good start. Jennifer and I have the beacon spell ready to go, and Willow's sisters are reorganizing a couple of the outbuildings as barracks for the new Potentials."
"Medical supplies are more difficult," Jennifer joined in. "Kirstan's got some contacts at a hospital in LA. Even if we can get what we need, transporting them means bringing in outsiders or sending some of us to pick them up."
"What about Fang?" Faith grinned a little at the confused looks, some confidence replacing the nerves. "Is the AI gang coming to the rescue? 'Cause they're in LA. Couldn't they grab the stuff you need and bring it along?"
Jennifer nodded, looking across the room at Kirstan. "That would work. We missed the last of that conversation, though. Are they joining us, sweetie?"
"In a few days. Angel and some ex-Watcher named Wesley are planning on driving out after they do some research on the First and what we might be facing." Kirstan leaned against a bookcase, arms crossed. "You think they'd be willing to make a side trip?"
"In a heartbeat, if Fang had one," Faith quipped. "D, can you give them a call? Make the arrangements?" She felt herself smile in response to the rapidly nodding head. "Cool. What's next? Anything else we need to be doing?"
Xander waved a hand. "What about defenses?"
Feeling lost, Faith stared back. "Not sure I follow, X-man. What kind of defenses? I thought the witch team had all that under control."
"If this First is as powerful as he claims, we're going to need more than fireballs and a laser light show." The voice was all Xander, but a soldier stared out of his eyes. "We need to figure out what we're going to do..." He trailed off when Faith jumped down from the table and strode to the window. "Faith?"
"We've got company." Faith was listening intently. "Fuck. They're upstairs. Xan, grab some weapons and meet me up there." She hit the door at a dead sprint, taking the stairs three at a time. Glass shattered as she reached the second floor landing. She followed the sound, taking out the closed door with one kick.
Kennedy struggled with a robed figure from her position on the bed. Faith leapt across the room and grabbed the intruder, throwing him into the wall. "You OK, Junior?" She glanced at Kennedy. No blood.
"Yeah." The Potential's arrogance was missing. The teen was pale, her eyes wide and shocked.
"Stay out of the way. I'll handle this." Faith moved toward the moaning figure. As she neared, it staggered upright, a pair of curved knives in its hands. "Nice blades. You think I could borrow them?" A snarl prefaced a slash with one of the knives. Faith twisted out of the way. "I'll take that as a no."
The room was a bad place for close-quarter combat. The space teemed with furniture, and Faith and her opponent had very little space for movement. Ducking and blocking as best she could, Faith worked to avoid the dual blades and maneuver the man into a corner. Finally, the robed figure lunged. Trying to lean back, Faith's foot caught on the edge of a dresser. She hit the floor hard and lay there, gasping.
Before Faith could scramble to her feet, a fireball streaked across the room. It hit the robed attacker in the chest. Animalistic screams filled the small room as flames engulfed the knife-wielding creature. Scooting away from the fire, Faith looked over her shoulder. Dawn stood in the doorway, shaking her hand, staring at it in confusion.
"D, you OK?" Faith asked, suddenly concerned. "You get hurt or something?"
"No." Dawn's voice was bemused. "I didn't know I could do that. You know, the fireball thingy."
Gaze bouncing between the younger Summers and the now-smoldering corpse, Faith choked out, "You did that? Once this apocalypse is over and you all remember the shit I did, I am so fucked."
***
As soon as Faith left the guest house, Willow reset the warding. They were protected, for now, from the outside world. Stretching tensed muscles, she wasted a few minutes cleaning up the dinner refuse still on the table. Buffy hadn't moved. The Slayer's chest rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm. Willow tested the link. Blocked. Maybe it was time for a little rest of her own. Quickly stripping off Buffy's jeans, Willow pulled off her own pants and shirt before crawling into the big bed and snuggling next to her friend and lover. Buffy's warmth soaked through her, and Willow's eyes drooped closed. Tomorrow would be soon enough to worry about what had sent Buffy over the edge. For now, they both needed sleep...
..."Could I have onion rings with that, instead of fries?" Jesse asked.
Adjusting her bright orange cow and chicken hat, Willow smiled brightly. "Sure. Anything else?"
"Nah. That'll do it." Jesse peered behind the counter. "Buffy working today?"
"She's in the back helping unload the truck." Willow double checked her register display. "That's one Doublemeat Medley with onion rings and a large diet coke, right?" Mrs. Summers nodded. "OK. Give me just a second and I'll have that ready for you."
Turning away from the counter, Willow frowned. There were an awful lot of people working today. Kennedy and Morgan were at the grill. It looked like they were trying to feed an army. Chicken and meat patties filled the cooking surfaces in neat rows, and stacks of paper serving boats stood waiting. Shrugging, she snagged one of the completed sandwiches and stuck it on a tray. Someone had already started filling the drink order. Eyes widening in horror, Willow watched the liquid overflow the cup, streaming down the stainless steel dispenser onto the floor.
She'd have to clean the floor — after filling the order. Willow removed the cup, replacing it with a clean, empty one. Making sure to press the button for a large drink, she hurried over to the fry counter and filled one of the cardboard containers. As she returned to the counter, she stopped. "What the...?" The diet coke was overflowing this cup, too. Growling under her breath, Willow punched the button to stop the dispenser. Nothing happened. Great. Just great. Diet coke continued to pour out, soaking Willow's uniform and shoes.
"Ooops! Sorry, Will. I should have warned you about that puddle." Buffy grimaced, staring at Willow's soaked and mud-spattered boots. "Restfield isn't that great with the drainage. Maybe they'll come clean in the wash?" she added hopefully.
Rolling her eyes, Willow glared at her friend. "Buff, I know you don't do much with the laundry, but leather and spin cycle so don't go together." She took a squelching step forward. Yuck. It was going to be a very long patrol. "Don't worry about it. My parents are all with the guilt these days. I guess they finally realized they missed graduation. They've showered me in gifts and cash since getting back. I'll just hit the mall after class tomorrow and pick up a new pair."
"The mall?" Buffy's eyes gleamed through the darkness. "Would you like a little company? I give good fashion advice."
"It's a pair of shoes, Buffy. Even I can get those without help." She grinned at the dramatic pout the Slayer threw her way. "Well, I guess you can go with me. After all, maybe there will be some clothes calling my name, and, hey, I can certainly use your help with that." Willow giggled at Buffy's blinding smile. "You are so easy."
Buffy didn't respond, stiffening in place. "Hold that thought." She sprinted away, stake in hand.
Willow hurried after her, following the sound of Buffy's voice and pained grunts and curses. By the time she ran around the back of the Aaronson mausoleum, Buffy was alone. She stood with her back to Willow, examining a large, double-bladed scythe. "I don't remember you stuffing that in your pocket before we left the dorms."
"Gee, Will, pay more attention next time." Buffy grinned faintly. "It's nice, isn't it? One of the vamps had it, and he was kind enough to drop it before he went poof." Buffy swung it a few times, and the blades hummed as they cut through the air. "Giles will want to take a look at it in the morning. It's got some kind of writing on the handle."
"Can I take a look?" Willow bounced on her toes then stopped as water squished out of her boots. Buffy offered the weapon, smirking only slightly when the blade thunked to the ground. "Thanks. Just so you know, you're batting a zero on the best friend scale tonight." Kneeling, she peered at the runes carved into the haft. "Damn. I don't recognize them."
Hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, Buffy whispered, "What's he doing?"
"Who?" Willow whispered back.
"The guy in the colored clothes. Why's he standing with his back to us?"
Rolling her eyes at Buffy's ignorance, Willow leaned closer to her friend, trying to ignore the death glares from the other people seated nearby. "He's praying. 'To Thee, O God, my God, I will give praise upon the harp.'"
Pulling back, Buffy stared at Willow in confusion. "The harp? Does anybody still play those?" She raised both hands in a sign of surrender when Willow pasted on her Resolve Face. "Sorry, I just don't get it. I mean, what's going on now?"
It was too much to hope Buffy would just sit and listen. "He's kinda confessing his sins." Willow pointed to the robed priest, who was tapping his chest with a closed fist.
"Why can't he do that in English?" The Slayer slouched back in the pew, scowling. "This is boring. Let's go." She grabbed Willow's hand and stood. Mumbling apologies, they squeezed by the people in the pew and hurried down the side aisle for the door. With the priest's voice thundering after them, they stepped outside into the bright sunlight...
...Willow's eyes snapped open. "What the...? Buffy?" Dazed hazel eyes blinked at her. "Wow. I just had the strangest dream."
"That makes two of us. Welcome to the hell that is my life, Will. That wasn't any dream." Buffy smiled bitterly. "That was a Slayer dream."
A/N: The muse has been demanding a vacation. Although I argued vehemently against it, she won (as always). Updates may be a little slower than normal, probably closer to every other week until the muse decides she's happy again. For those of you with a need to know: the religious ceremony referenced in the dream sequence is the Catholic Tridentine Mass. It's performed in Latin, with the priest facing the altar, not the congregation. The full Latin/English text can be found at: http://www.latinliturgy.com/tridmass.html