Finding Her Way Home
by rebelrsr
Chapter 38
[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 and Lilly 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 crept silently down the stairs. She already missed Dawn. Rubbing her arms against a continued chill, she hit the last step — and almost screamed.
"Honeymoon over so soon?" Kirstan leaned against the adjacent wall.
"Fuck, Old Timer. Whistle or stomp your feet next time, will ya?" Faith asked, slowly straightening from the defensive crouch she'd automatically taken when Kirstan had surprised her.
Kirstan shook her head. "Sorry. You're a Slayer. You should have felt me, heard me, even smelled me before you ever got down the stairs."
Scowling and praying the heat in her cheeks wasn't visible, Faith muttered, "Had things on my mind." Her right heel bounced, tension thrumming through her. She needed out. Now.
"If you're that distracted, shouldn't you be back upstairs?" Kirstan's eyes bore into her, and Faith twitched under the intense scrutiny. When Faith didn't respond, Kirstan shifted away from the wall. "You and my new daughter-in-law are cut from the same cloth. It's not wrong to ask for help, you know."
"I don't need-" Faith growled.
A hand shot up, stopping her denial. "Maybe you really can't see it. I can."
"Huh?" What the hell was Kirstan talking about? "See what?" The leg bouncing grew more frantic.
"That." Kirstan pointed to Faith's leg.
Faith pressed her foot to the floor, stilling its motion. "I'm fine," she lied.
"Really?" Kirstan moved closer. "Your aura is shifting so fast it's about to make me lose my lunch. There is so much energy trying to get out, I don't know why you haven't exploded."
"If you know all that, get the fuck out of the way so I can go beat up on something." Faith flung her palms up in the air. "All you want to fucking do is talk. Weren't you a Slayer? We don't talk. We kill. Get with the program."
She grinned reluctantly when Kirstan tossed back her head and laughed. "I'll try. I'm old, though. I don't know if I'm up to learning any new tricks." Still chuckling, Kirstan lightly punched Faith's shoulder. "How about I show you some of my old ones? Let's go out to the Training Barn and we can spar."
"Wicked." Faith's bouncing was more excitement then restless energy this time. "I'd ask B, but Red's probably got her researching." No way was she risking getting caught up in that.
She followed Kirstan outside. Shadows from the rapidly fading light darkened the path to the barn. "You and Dawn OK?" Kirstan asked casually, head back as she examined the trees lining the path.
Faith smiled wryly. "You got questions, just ask, Old Timer. Don't pretend to be making small talk." Lifting a hand, she ran it through her hair pensively before answering. "Yeah, we're good. I can hear her in my head now." The smile mutated, growing wider and freer. "She's sleeping right now, but she knows where I am."
As they entered the barn, Kirstan flicked on the overhead lighting. A low hum filled the air. Shucking off her over shirt and track pants, Kirstan stood in front of Faith in a sports bra and shorts. Eyeing Faith, she began stretching. "If you're so OK with the bond, why the dramatic exit?"
"If I'd wanted dramatics, I'd have gone out the window." Smirking at Kirstan, Faith did a little stretching of her own. Slowly windmilling her arms and rolling her neck, she tried to loosen a little of the stiffness from her earlier restlessness. "I'm not really good at the whole cuddling thing. D had me in a killer grip, and I needed to move."
She finished swinging her arms and stepped onto the wrestling mat covering the floor. Ever since she'd seen Kirstan at the bottom of the stairs, Faith had been struggling with one question. "They had you watching the stairs, didn't they?" she blurted out.
Kirstan didn't answer. Giving Faith a long look, she stepped onto the mat and took a defensive stance.
They circled each other, each waiting for an opening.
Faith breathed roughly at first. Kirstan's non-answer hit hard, and anger simmered. What the hell did Willow's family want? She'd come back to help out. She and Buffy were starting to get over their past — even if Buffy had had to toss Faith around to get there.
A hard kick to her chin took her to the mat.
"You want to pay attention? I didn't come out here to waste my time." Kirstan stepped back, arms crossed.
The Slayer growled softly at the challenge. "Lucky shot, Old Timer. It's your one freebie," Faith snapped. Scrambling to her feet, Faith didn't bother with conventions. Head down, she charged at Kirstan, intending to take the older woman to the mat.
Unfortunately, Kirstan stepped nimbly aside. Propelled by momentum, Faith barreled past Kirstan, skidding to a stop near the door.
"Last chance, Faith. Get serious or get out." Kirstan was back in her 'waiting' pose, looking bored.
The Slayer strained for release. Gripping her self control with both hands, Faith stepped back onto the mat. This time, she consciously concentrated on smoothing out her breathing and her heartbeat. Eyes locked onto Kirstan, Faith started their circular dance again. Her world narrowed. Breathe in, shift and slide, exhale. Breathe in, watch Kirstan's weight shift, exhale. She slowly regained some calm.
"They didn't ask me to watch," Kirstan finally replied as they felt each other out. "Jenny did."
The words coincided with a spinning back kick.
Ducking, Faith dropped to the ground, barely avoiding the blow. Her calm fled, replaced by anger and bitterness. Jenny. It made a strange kind of sense. She had, after all, abandoned Faith after she heard the news about prison. As Faith let the words sink in, the Slayer fought to break free, fueled by Faith's emotions.
Still marginally in control, Faith responded to the inner frenzy. From her prone position, she tried to sweep Kirstan's pivot leg. She just caught the tip of Kirstan's shoe as the retired Slayer jumped over the sweep. Kirstan didn't go down, but her balance was off when she landed.
A howl sounded in her head, and Faith's control began to slip. Movements speeding up, she took advantage of Kirstan's lack of stability, sending a foot into the back of her knee. As Kirstan pitched to the floor, Faith was already on her feet. "Why? Did she think I was going to hurt Dawn?"
The question drove her anger higher. She lashed out, aiming a vicious kick at Kirstan's ribs. Hard hands grabbed her ankle just before impact, yanking her forward and down to one knee. Faith hit the ground hard; muscles strained at the odd, near-split position.
"No," Kirstan panted, letting go of Faith's ankle and kipping up. "She told me after you two went upstairs that you'd need to talk after the bonding was complete."
***
Buffy stared at the shape on the paper. "Um...It looked a lot more like an axe in the dream." Rotating the drawing to the right didn't help it look more like a weapon and less like a child's art project. Neither did rotating it to the left. Rubbing her forehead, she looked at Drew. "I'm guessing this isn't going to help you find that book."
Drew's carefully blank expression didn't ease her embarrassment.
"Perhaps you could describe the scythe, Buffy?" Giles suggested. He took the drawing gently out of her hands and gave it to Willow. "Willow can work on sketching the runes."
Gritting her teeth, Buffy nodded stiffly. "Fine." She could see the hurt in his eyes; she wasn't ready to forgive or forget so soon, however. "It was an axe. Not like you use to cut wood, though. It had two heads." Closing her eyes, Buffy continued to describe the weapon from her dream. As she talked, the low hum of conversation from the room faded.
The change was so gradual, she didn't notice it at first. When crickets started chirping and a soft breeze wafted through the room, Buffy's eyes snapped open. She was definitely not in the living room any longer. Familiar tombstones and mausoleums identified her location as Restfield Cemetery. Buffy tried to move forward. Nothing happened. Heart racing, she struggled silently and fruitlessly to change position. Glancing down, Buffy noticed the scythe clutched in her hands. The dark wood was smooth with age, slight indentations marking the places where many other hands had gripped the haft.
Moonlight glinted off the chipped, curving blades. Blue flickers of magical energy backlit the runes etched near her closed fists.
"Buffy?" Giles' worried voice sounded in her ear.
Restfield shimmered then solidified. The air suffocated her, and Buffy sucked in labored breaths.
"Buffy!" This time the word was accompanied with a heavy hand on her shoulder.
Jerking, Buffy surged forward — onto her knees. Drew, Anya, and Giles peered at her worriedly. "What the hell was that?"
"That was you, having some fantasy about Willow while the rest of us are researching," Anya cried. "I'm stuck in here while my Xander is getting sweaty building bunk beds, and you're-"
"Good Lord, Anya, do shut up." Giles glared at her until she slumped on the couch, pouting. Visibly taking a breath and trying to calm himself, he looked back at Buffy. "You stopped talking, Buffy, right in the middle of your description and stared at...well, at nothing. It was as if you were in a trance."
Looking at Willow, Buffy reached for her hand. She gripped the slender fingers tightly, only relaxing when Willow squeezed her hand in return. "I was back in Restfield, holding the scythe." Retrieving her drawing from the floor in front of Willow, Buffy held it up for the group to see. "I'd say whatever sent the original dream wasn't happy with my artwork."
"Kindergartners wouldn't be happy with that artwork." Anya had recovered from her earlier snit.
"Thank you," Buffy said dryly. "No one ever told me my Slayer duties included still art sketching." Releasing Willow's hand, she stood up and paced. "There wasn't anything new this time. It was big on the weird. Not so big on the information."
Willow handed Buffy a notepad. "Did you see these?"
Frowning, Buffy peered at the strange symbols.
"Those are the runes I think were on the handle." Willow flashed her full smile, the tip of her tongue peeking between her teeth. "The DMP is a better bet than art school for me, too, Buffy."
"Great. One mystery solved." As Buffy stared at the runes, they seemed to glow, like the ones on the scythe's haft in her second "dream." "That's them," she stated confidently. "In case I got confused, my new Sandman made them all glowy for me." The confidence faded. "Do I even want to know what they mean?"
All her attention was on Willow, waiting for her answer.
***
"Runes aren't prophecies, Buffy." Willow tried to reassure Buffy. She could almost see the resignation in the clouded hazel eyes. "Witches use them like a..." she struggled for words Buffy might understand. "Like a magical shorthand. Each rune has a variety of meanings. Combining them can enhance a spell or protect something — a weapon like the axe."
Buffy straightened a little. "So, no prophecy?"
"Nope. We are prophesy free." Except the one about her. Willow chose not to remind Buffy of that. Plucking the pad from Buffy's hand, Willow read the runes. "These are Germanic in origin." She traced the first character with a finger. "Ansuz: leader or authority figure."
Was it her imagination, or did the run seem to glow where her finger had touched?
Watching the paper more intently, she continued to the next marking. "Raioo: destiny." The blue intensified. It wasn't just a trick of the light. Willow felt a sudden drain on her reservoirs. She tried to pull away, to lock down the escaping magic. A wordless warning sounded in her head. Willow had to finish the rune script. Voice deepening with the force of her unintended spellcasting, Willow spoke the final rune name, "Hagalaz, testing or disaster."
A/N: The rune names are Americanized versions of the Germanic originals. I don't have an international keyboard for specialized lingual notations.