The Sacrifice

by LilBit

Copyright © 2005

Epallen@tampabay.rr.com

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: All the characters from BUFFY: THE VAMPIRE SLAYER are the property of Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy, Inc.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Feedback: Of course. Please!
Spoilers: Post-Chosen.
Pairing: Willow/Kennedy

Chapter Thirteen – Breaking Rank

Buffy couldn't believe what she just heard from Kennedy. "We can't go anywhere. All we have is a name. We don't know what or who is there or how the town is even connected. Besides…hello, no car. Do you plan on walking?"

"We've got the name of the town. It's something…and we just can't wait around forever." Kennedy voiced her intentions strongly.

"Listen, Giles and Xander will be back soon. They were getting ready to leave when he called…When they do get here, we can call the coven or go do research and find out more about this town…How it's connected to Willow's problem." The blonde slayer had rushed into a plan not too many days before and it had ended in the deaths of several potentials. She did not want another catastrophe like that to happen again.

The younger slayer was not persuaded. "This is big stuff going on here. It's not your average demon problem. If that town has a connection, then there should be some hefty cosmic vibes coming from that place…we should be able to pick up on that with our slayer senses."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Buffy was beginning to sense dissent from Kennedy again. She had been through this sort of thing many times before, so why couldn't Kennedy just stay in line. She knew the brunette could be pushy, but this wasn't only about the young slayer and her James Bond attitude, it was about Willow too. "Leaving isn't an option; we need to think about Will." It was said more as an order than as part of a discussion.

Kennedy became agitated. She disliked being dismissed so readily by Buffy. Even though she didn't have seven years of slaying on her resume, she did have some training in tactics. Eleven years spent preparing to be the slayer wasn't all spent shooting a crossbow. The younger slayer saw that Buffy was trying to take charge, to be in charge of every decision. It had been the slayer's occupation for seven years, and she had carried the burden by herself. Those close to her were the sidekicks, members of the Scooby gang but not the leader.

But that was before, now were different times. There was no longer the 'Chosen One'. Kennedy knew that spell gave her more than just slayer strength. She acquired insight, perception and a host of other heightened capabilities that gave her every right to offer an opinion. The younger slayer was at odds with the need for a unified slayer front and her belief in her own abilities. She was not a sidekick; she wanted to be an equal to Buffy.

"You're not the only one thinking about Willow…And I'm sorry Buffy, but you're not the only one to make decisions…I…don't want…to argue with you…but this isn't your decision to make. At least not for me." Kennedy had made up her mind and, looking directly at her, had told the older slayer so in a steady, uncompromising tone.

"Kennedy, you haven't been doing this long enough. This isn't a decision you want." Buffy tried to reason with her younger counterpart though she already knew it was pointless. The blonde sensed that once her decision was made, the brunette would not budge.

The brunette concentrated on Buffy's words. She responded like a highly skilled lawyer questioning to win a case. "I was trained for this…for years…I have that plus everything I've been through since I arrived at your house. That's something…right?..I mean you were just thrown into being a slayer, weren't you?...So why should I be different?" Kennedy kept her closing argument aimed at Buffy.

"When we first starting training, you told the potentials to trust their instincts. That it was as important as our fighting. My watcher drilled that into me too.…Buffy, my instincts are telling me to go to La Founita." She rested her case.

Feeling undercut on that front and knowing she would not change the younger slayer's mind, Buffy took a new tactic, "You can't go anyway, no transportation."

Kennedy stared at the blonde, looked around and then started walking away, saying-"Watch Will, I'll be back in a little while."

On the side of the highway in the driver's seat of a broken down school bus, somewhere between the Deering Motor Inn and Hog's Bend, sat a dejected Giles. The hood of the bus was up and Xander stood, leaning forward, with his head inside the engine compartment, searching for the culprit that had thwarted their race home. "Oh sure…be home by five, no problem…what an idiot I am," he chastised himself.

The two men had found the recluse's house without incident. Their directions were exact and there was hardly any traffic. They started to think that just maybe the powers that be were looking out for them that day. They were wrong.

The home of Jorge Condolenza was, in one word, nondescript. Both men noticed immediately that there was nothing spectacular or hideous about the house to call attention. One could forget the color merely by turning one's back to it. It was a typical ranch that fit in with the style of the area; the yard was of average size with no offensive nor eye-catching landscaping. The house begged not to call attention to itself.

Giles and Xander parked the bus in the driveway and made their way up the walkway to the front entranceway. Giles' complacency with the house only stopped at the sight of two wood carvings, about one foot tall each, on opposite sides of the door. Both were of a fox. The two men stood at the door and Xander knocked. They waited…no response. Xander knocked again, harder…still no response. The closed wooden blinds on the interior of the front windows made it impossible to look inside. They listened and could hear that a television was on. Xander tried the doorknob-it was locked. Looking at each other, the men decided to investigate.

"Maybe he uses the back door. Let's go around," the watcher motioned for Xander to follow. There was no gate, no fence, nothing to infer secrecy and raise the odds of spying neighbors. Once at the back of the house, Giles knocked on the back door, while Xander looked in the small window just to the door's left, the small drape left a small area on the right side unprotected. Expecting no response, Giles was not disappointed when no one came to answer. "Giles…I see the kitchen…there's soup on the stove…and I'm pretty sure the stove's on." Giles turned the knob; it too was locked.

"He must be home and hiding," said the watcher.

"Or busy getting his gun to kill us," a panicky Xander retorted.

"No, I don't think so. If he thought we were trying to break in, he would have yelled or done something to scare us away." Giles knew there was more to this mystery than a macho home protector. "We need to get in. He's hiding because he knows why we're here…that means he knows something." Giles was confident their trip would yield benefits for the monumental dilemma waiting for them at the motel.

So, Giles did what any respected watcher and legal foreign resident would do…he broke in. He picked up one of the green plastic, landscaping border sections that lined the flower bed at the back of the house, and hit it against the window in the back door, shattering it. "Well…if he's really out to kill a couple of intruders, we'll find out soon enough-" Giles tried to laugh as he said it. Xander, not believing what he just saw, whispered, "If I end up in jail as someone's butt monkey, I'll get revenge on you somehow, G-man…and if you get me killed…you don't want to know what I'll do to you." In the end, Xander followed Giles after he carefully reached through the opening in the window, unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The men made their way slowly and quietly toward the front of the house, checking each room and behind every door for the recluse. If the outside of the house was forgettable, the interior was anything but. It wasn't the furniture, wall coloring or computer that caught the men's attention. The striking feature was the vast number of statues, carvings and drawings throughout the house. The unnerving aspect of the décor was that all were of foxes, arrows, snakes and something that looked like an arch but had a jagged edge for the bottom-like a frown with spiked teeth.

"What the hell is all this stuff, Giles?" whispered Xander, perplexed and disturbed by what he saw.

The rest of the conversation was carried out in a similar volume.

"This is like the carvings outside. I know I've read about this sort of thing." The watcher strained his memory. "In Native American culture, animals and some objects possess certain powers, they help the individual in different aspects of his or her life."

"Well, what do these mean?" Xander hoped none were for enhancing deadly aim for shooting intruders.

"If I remember correctly, foxes and arrows are for protection…the snake is for the circle of life…and I do believe that arch symbol is a rattlesnake jaw which is for…strength." The watcher was proud of himself for having remembered information from a book he had read quite some time ago. "Our Mr. Condolenza is trying to protect himself from something very powerful."

They kept walking through the house and stopped when they got to the bathroom. It was the only room where the door was ajar and not closed. The two men looked at each other. Giles motioned for Xander to stand away from the opening so he could push the door open. In case there was a mad homeowner waiting to shoot them between the eyes, he wanted his one eyed friend out of range. Xander did as he was told and the door was pushed. It opened without incident, exposing to the men a sight they didn't expect to see.

Crouched in the bathtub, head tucked down and arms protectively covering it, was Jorge Condolenza. Giles and Xander approached the man, slowly. They stopped several feet from him and waited for a reaction from the man. After a long while, the man looked up, but otherwise didn't move. He just stared at the men, not saying a word.

"Mr. Condolenza, my name is Rupert Giles and this…" Giles didn't finish because the recluse quickly placed his hands over his ears.

"No…No…n-n-not my brain…no more…nothing left…go…go…GO!" The words were incoherent, a puzzle with most of the pieces missing.

"Sir, we mean you no harm; we were given your name by people who said you may be able to help us." At least I got out a whole sentence, Giles thought. The recluse looked up, scared, "I can't help…not strong enough…I ran."

Xander noticed that the man didn't seem frightened of them but with what Giles was saying. "Mr. Condolenza, if you can't help us, maybe you could just give us some information, then we'll stop bothering you." The recluse stilled for a moment then looked at him as if waiting for more assurances.

"My friend has been having problems…she says it's like her energy is being sucked out. She's become very sick from it…and if we don't find a way to help her…she might…die." Xander was dead serious. "If you can't help her, please tell us how to…please, I beg you."

The recluse searched the faces of the strangers, looking for any hint that that they knew about the Truxdeiro, about his people. He had left La Founita and the clan more than fifteen years before. He was of weak mind and the obligation of his people proved too much for his fragile psyche. He was saddled with the fits, and voices, never being able to block them out of his mind. They came and went as they pleased. After trying for years to overcome his malediction and carry out his sacred obligation, Condolenza surrendered. He could no longer manage the torture being done to his mind, so he quit. But quitting was not possible; he knew he could not stay, for his people shunned anyone who would not accept their duty. They despised any member who left, but at least they did allow clan to leave, unlike previous generations when defectors were burned. So Condolenza left and settled in Hog's Bend, a place far enough away from his past to be without torment, and with the help of some powerful protectors in his house, he was free as best he could be…until today.

The recluse felt for the strangers. He knew they were sincere about the fate of their friend. His experience while still with the clan taught him the universe was relentless; it would thunder down upon its target like a lion to prey. He felt pity for the person whom he had never met. But to give them any information would divulge his clan's secret, that was a heresy worse than deserting his calling. Yet the clan was the same people who also forced him to leave his true home, his own soil, because the calling was more important than the human being. They were the reason for his self-imposed exile, his reduction to home-based telemarketing and a monastic life. He was forced to keep as much of life outside his door in order to keep the rest of existence, the part unseen, from following it in. 'Maybe the key to real freedom is knowledge,' he pondered.

Without warning, the recluse blurted, "La Founita," and then cowered waiting for the hands of death to take him.

Startled by the sound, Giles quickly asked, "What or who is that?"

"Town…very south of here…now please go…now." The man got braver having survived his betrayal, although he wasn't ready for a full mutiny.

Giles and Xander looked at each other, knowing this information needed to be conveyed to those waiting at the motel as soon as possible. "Sir I hate to intrude any further, but it is imperative that we relay this information. Could we bother you to use your phone? I will gladly leave you money for the call." Giles hoped the man's willingness to help would hold out just a little longer.

Even though the recluse was uncertain at first, after several minutes of analysis, he decided there was a very remote possibility that the clan had bugged his phone, so he acquiesced. "But please…use it…on your way…out."

"We will, Sir. We thank you so much Mr. Condolenza for your help." Giles took Xander by the arm and led him out of the bathroom.

"Why are we leaving? That guy may have told us more." Xander was upset.

"Didn't you see how frightened he was? I'm thankful he opened up at all. He may have put himself in danger by telling us, Xander. We can't ignore the threat to others…even if it is for Willow's sake." Xander knew the watcher was right, so he kept silent, following Giles while he made his call the motel.

After the conversation, the two men let themselves out and headed for the bus. They were seated and the bus ready to back out when the recluse came running out of his house and straight to the bus' door. Giles opened the sliders.

The recluse looked intently at Giles and softly said, "My people will carry out their obligation."

"Who are your people?" the watcher inquired.

"…T-T-Truxdeiro…now go," his Judas voice commanded. He turned and ran back into his sanctuary.

As the bus left, Jorge Condolenza watched from his front window, the wood blinds opened just enough to see the vehicle's taillights. He thought about his actions. 'Let me be truly free…or be done with me." He didn't know to whom he was saying the words as he pulled on a cord, rising up the blinds.

"So Giles, you didn't think a whizzing sound was anything important?" Xander snorted at the watcher. The bus had broken down and now they were stuck, without a phone, on the side of the highway. Backing away from the engine he had just examined, Xander looked disappointedly at Giles.

"W-Well, I'm not that…familiar with this type of vehicle," he cleared his throat, "and no lights went on, so I assumed…"

"Don't' finish that Giles, I don't want to hear your lame excuse."

"So what's the problem?"

"Water pump."

"Bad?"

"G-man, get your walking shoes on, we're heading for the closest emergency call box…That bus ain't going anywhere."

The two men starting walking, knowing they were losing valuable time in the fight to save Willow. After several minutes, Xander broke the silence. "Giles, if I ever say 'piece of cake' again, poke my other eye out."

Buffy watched Kennedy walk away and meander through the parking lot. Unsure what the brunette was up to, she decided to check on her friend. As soon as she saw Willow, Buffy gasped; she could see the changes occurring in the best friend. Her urgency to find a solution multiplied tenfold. 'If only Giles would get back.' She disliked pinning all her hope on the success of a visit to a recluse. Not being able to do more, Buffy just stood and watched her sleeping friend.

Buffy wasn't sure how long she'd been watching Willow when Kennedy walked into the room. "I'm leaving, take care of Willow." This time it was Kennedy's words that were more of an order than the start of a discussion.

"How?" A perplexed Buffy stared at the brunette.

Kennedy held up a set of car keys on a chain and pointed outside. "The silver Altima."

"But you still don't have anything to go on but a town. What if Giles and Xander come back with info?" Buffy still thought the girl should stay and wait. Kennedy then put her other hand in her back pocket, pulled out a cell phone and showed it the older slayer. "If they get back with info, call me." She then placed the phone in her hand with the keys and took out a piece of paper from her front pocket. "Here's the number. I have this room's number and yours and Giles'…once I get something, I'll call."

Buffy still wasn't sure. She didn't know what to make of the situation. Kennedy obviously thought this out and had a decent course of action, considering the alternative. She stood there sifting the idea around waiting to see what panned out.

"Listen, I gotta go…it's after five already, but if I make good time, I can be there while it's still light out…This is the right move to make…I can feel it." Kennedy said the words with the confidence of an experienced slayer.

Buffy couldn't deny the plan any longer. "Ok, but I'm coming with you. Two slayers are better than one." Kennedy was honestly taken by surprise by Buffy's change of heart and relinquishment of control. "But we need someone here with Willow."

"I'll get Faith, fill her in and we'll be set to go."

"Ok, but I leave in five minutes, with or without you." Buffy then left to get Faith.

While she was gone, Kennedy walked to the side of the bed and sat carefully upon its edge, never leaving the face of her witch from her view. The redhead was asleep, though her slumber had previously been restless. But now, as the young slayer gazed at her, Willow was peaceful once again. "I wish you could hear me, Red. There're so many things I want to tell you…but I have to go now…I would never leave unless I knew that it was to help you." Kennedy leaned closer. "I feel it Will…I'll find the answer." The brunette bent over so that her mouth was nearly grazing Willow's ear and said, ever so quietly, "I love you.…"

She sat up and stayed with her witch until Buffy returned with Faith. "You all filled in?" Kennedy asked the ex-rogue slayer. "Up to snuff, kid…don't worry, I'll watch out for her." Kennedy leaned in and gave Willow a soft, loving kiss, lingering long enough that the other women knew Kennedy wasn't sure if that would be their last. Then the younger slayer stood up and headed out the door. Buffy followed, looking at Faith and getting a 'watch each other's back' look.

Once both women were in the car, Kennedy looked at Buffy in the passenger seat. "You're hunch, Kennedy…you make the first move." And she did; she started the car and headed for La Founita.

Chapter Fourteen – Slipping Away

Faith stood, then sat, and watched Willow sleep. She observed the sunlight beaming into the room dance its way across the wall. The clock told her several hours had elapsed; to her it felt like days, the minutes passing slowly like thick molasses. Faith wasn't used to this type of duty, this inactivity. To her protecting meant fighting and punching and staking. She never had the responsibility to just watch over someone. Of course, there was the period during Buffy's exile before the final battle, when she held the potentials' lives in her hands, but she knew she had handled that situation rather poorly. However, Faith was now part of the sisterhood of slayers, so she buried her uneasiness and concentrated on the woman in the bed.

She felt genuine sorrow for Willow. Her condition was worsening and she had started to have small episodes of agitation, although she never awoke during any of them. The dark haired slayer also felt shame for all the horrible things she had ever done to the redhead. There had been a time when Faith hated Willow, hated her for her goodness, her friendship with Buffy, her life that was so perfect compared to her own. That was the time when Faith hated everyone. But she was different now; she told herself that everyday. Now, she couldn't fathom how she had ever felt hatred for the woman. Willow was sweet and authentic from any angle. This realization made the slayer only feel a deeper sense of remorse for the witch.

During the waiting hours, Faith did have occasional company. Dawn and a few of the new slayers, Vi and Rona in particular, came by to check up on Willow, see if there was any news or if Faith needed anything. During one of Dawn's visits, she told Faith that the new slayers had begun to work on strategy and fighting scenarios, in the event they were called into action. They were doing the best they could to make themselves prepared, but mostly they were just trying to stay out of the way. Whatever their intent, Faith was thankful for it and the visits. It helped to keep her mind from wondering what ghosts Willow might be fighting.

From the time of her last episode, Willow had been battling for her life in a dimensional dream world. This time she was flesh, not some floating presence of energy. She was standing on or in something that had no substance or boundaries, no beginning or end. She would have thought she was in a room but there were no walls, ceiling or floor. There was what she most likened to mist all around her but not smothering her. The appearance was of being caught in a fog, white gray haze everywhere. And yet, in this seemingly bottomless place, there she stood, not falling but grounded somehow.

All was not well though, for the witch was being pulled and pushed into the expanse, invisible hands playing tug-o-war with her. But this was no child's game. She heard no voice but had a faint memory of being told she must go. At first, the redhead fought against it. She struggled to run away, thrashing, commanding her legs to move. To walk back to her life. She tried desperately to shout out for help, her voice betraying her. Again and again she pressed herself to turn, twist…to make any slight shift away from whatever was trying to drag her closer. Her struggle lasted an eternity and a millisecond simultaneously. The reward for her attempts was fool's gold, worthless, for she only grew closer to the expanse …and weaker. The more she fought, the weaker she became, the closer she was to being lost to the universal dimension.

So, the witch stopped fighting. Stillness and calm overcame her immediately; she felt peace. It was at that precise moment that Willow first considered letting go, giving into the force that was pulling her life from her. It would be easy she knew, so easy to succumb to its overwhelming desire for her essence. For the witch knew her struggle wasn't with good and evil; the power she felt grabbing for her never had the taste of evil, nor was it the pure good she felt from the slayer spell. This conflict was about the never ending search for balance, between her worldly existence and that of some other dimensional plane. She could let go and end her war. She could just…let…go…

Then she felt it, a connection to her world. It was not a touch or a voice but a presence, one that was strong and sure. That awareness, the tangible proof of her being and belonging of this world, began to fill her with hope and desire for life as she was. That connection gave her strength to deny the quest for balance, to retreat from yielding to the clenching force that was pulling at her soul. She had been infused with the will to do battle. The witch began to fight again; she fought against the inevitable with all her might, to recapture her conscious form…to reach out to the connection.

Willow crawled out of her sleep on her hands and knees like a wounded soldier, inching her way back to her life, to the present, to the motel room. Eyelids strained to move, then blink. They opened slightly, her sight clouded by a thin shroud of haze. The redhead's brain synapses started to fire, bringing higher level functioning back and telling her to focus and search for help. Physically, this Willow was weak compared to dream Willow. The physical vessel being no match for the power locked within the witch's mind and soul. But she tried to make contact; she struggled to see around her.

Emerald eyes wandered at the speed of an old woman walking, trying to catch a glimpse of her rescuer. Those eyes fell upon a blurred shape. Willow tried to call out…a faint moan was all that came from her throat. She tried harder…

"he-e-e…" It was a sound, a barely audible but very real sound.

The noise was enough to pull Faith to the witch. The slayer had witnessed Willow's fitful slumber and grew apprehensive upon seeing fluttering eyelids. The soft nothing of a word had made her overjoyed. She quickly went to the redhead's side.

"Willow, heh…just take it easy…don't try to talk."

All Willow heard was a muffled voice coming from a still blurry figure that had gotten closer. She pushed again for contact. "he…h-h-help…m-me," she kept marching forward, "los…losing…t-tired…"

Faith tried to keep Willow from exerting herself, "Red…please, you need to stop talking…save your strength." She placed her hand lightly on the witch's arm to reinforce her plea and hopefully soothe the frightened woman.

The shape slowly took more form, adding the outline of darkened tresses to an otherwise still blurred figure. "K-ke…K-kenn…" Relief filled the stuttered word, as if Willow had found her connection, her protector. She had thrown all of her energy into that name, wanting a connection with her slayer, needing that blanket of safety she gave her. "I…I'm t-t-trying to…to hold…on…f-f-f…fight…don't know h-h-how…much…more…" Her words were soft and limp but carried a strong message.

Faith didn't have the heart to divulge to the imprisoned witch her mistaken identity; she needed Willow to believe whatever was necessary to keep her spirit wanting this world. So she stroked the now dulled crimson hair, and spoke words soft and compassionate, "Hold on Willow…please don't give in, fight…we're gonna save you." Faith had to fight back the emotion building in her throat; she couldn't sound scared or frightened. She needed Willow to believe…even if the slayer wasn't sure she did herself.

A snippet of a smile eased its way to the corner of the redhead's mouth, acknowledgement of the request to keep fighting, her pledge to try. Willow wanted to stay in this world. She looked upon the shadow before her, her slayer. The witch tried to reach out to her, to touch her strength. But the struggle was not over and the ever present cosmos pulled Willow back from her world, out of consciousness. She was swimming in the pool of the great dimensional expanse once again.

Faith leaned in to take the hand being outstretched, then it fell to Willow's side and the witch return to her dead man's sleep.

Giles and Xander finally made it back to the motel just after 8pm. They had to walk to an emergency call box and seek roadside assistance. It took what seemed like days for a tow truck to arrive. The men decided, or rather Xander decided based on Giles' ignorance of vehicles, that it was of no use to tow the bus to a service station. The repairs needed would take at least a day or two, time they knew they didn't possess. Instead, they talked the tow truck driver into taking them all the way back to the motel, using a dying grandmother as the ruse. Fortunately, the driver acquiesced even though the motel was a good bit out of his normal range. Unfortunately, the driver only had a CB, no cell phone. Xander commented to himself how it was possible in this wireless, electronic age that the driver could do his job without one. The lack of a phone meant there would be no call to the others at the motel or the coven.

When the men returned, they immediately went to see Willow and found Faith there. The slayer told them that Kennedy and Buffy had left. She explained the younger slayer's plan, showed them the cell phone number and then brought them up to date on Willow's condition, including her most recent bout with consciousness.

Giles called the number on the piece of paper, only to be forwarded to some man's voicemail. "There's no answer. I don't like this. Something must be wrong." The watcher was concerned.

"Maybe they're in the middle of getting a way out of this and can't answer. Com'on Giles, think positive." Faith had, well, faith in her two comrades; she didn't want negativity to replace it.

"Yes…well, maybe you're right. We'll try later. In the meantime, I need to call the coven with the information we obtained and see what they can uncover for us. I'll be in my room." And with that, the watcher left, leaving Willow in the capable hands of Faith and Xander.

Xander then told Faith of their trip to the recluse and the information he imparted on them. Faith asked Xander how the coven knew of the man in the first place. Xander repeated to her the story told to him by Giles when he had asked the same question during their ride out to the man's home. Giles explained how the coven had connections the world over; it was like an underground system of separate coven cells that were able to contact each other regarding magickal or demonic anomalies. Whenever someone touched with 'power', be it magickal, demonic or cosmic, went out of control or lost the ability to control that power, it set off what could most aptly be termed a coven's radar. It usually only required the involvement of one coven, but if needed, communications could be filtered throughout whatever areas might be affected. In cases of strong anomalies or events which were not brought to a complete resolution, covens would keep records of the events in case the information was necessary in the future.

Faith listened intently as Xander continued the expose. "Seems this Condolenza guy went wiggy years back, sent some mojo vibes around. The coven in the area investigated but never found out the reason except they kept getting, sorta, power surges when they got near where he was. It stopped at some point after the guy went to Hog's Bend. They never did solve the mystery, but they kept his name and such in case it was needed later—we're the 'later'."

Xander added, "We only got Truxdeiro because of that guy…he told us…but he sure didn't seem to really want to…the guy was terrified." Willow's long time friend didn't like the implications that held for the redhead. "So now it's a waiting game again. To see who gets us info first…Giles or our dynamic duo."

Faith had become edgy after hearing the whole story. Crazy people meant trouble and she knew that for a fact, having conspired with her fair share. "I'll try Buffy and the kid again."

At 7:32pm, while the sun was dipping low in the sky, a silver Altima made its way slowly down La Founita's one horse town main street. The passengers in the vehicle scrutinized every person, every building and every object for a sign, any sign, to dictate their next move. The two passengers noticed everything – eyes, hands, poster wording, building color and even the location of streetlights and mailboxes-processing it all to see if there was a clue or a feeling. They made their way down the sleepy main drag, cautiously examining each intersection, every driveway that peeled off the main street. The vehicle stalked past the post office, Stan's Barbershop, the Kettle Soup Diner. It drove past Independence Boulevard, Franklin Street, Dover and Higgins. The Altima made a complete stop when it came to an intersecting road on the right, next to the Ace Hardware store. The street sign post was bent, toward the main road, like a passenger on a subway platform leaning to look down the tunnel for the approaching train. It was the street sign that called a halt to forward motion. After discussion by the passengers, the automobile turned onto the road. Unbeknownst to them, at the end of that serpentine trip awaited Aguilo and the old woman.

Chapter Fifteen – Road Trip

After leaving the Deering Motor Inn parking lot, the two slayers drove for some time in silence, both knowing the seriousness of their adventure on four wheels. There had been a suggestion, early on, by Buffy that she drive since Kennedy had been weaving through traffic and driving excessively fast. "No offense Buffy, but I've heard you're 'driving challenged.' We need to get there today and in one piece." With that said, Kennedy did reign in her NASCAR tendencies and proceeded to head to their mystery town only going slightly faster than the flow of traffic. The brunette had been worried about getting stuck in traffic. She had heard war stories of bumper to bumper traffic on the highways of California, but decided those horrors must be relegated to LA and San Francisco, their journey having been rather clear so far.

Finally, Buffy broke the silence. "So how did you get the car and the phone?"

The last thing Kennedy wanted to do was make idle chit-chat. She was on a mission. Everything was telling her that her Willow was dying, but she couldn't let herself truly believe it. She knew there had to be a mistake, some miniscule piece of information that was missed or misinterpreted. There had to be something that she could grab onto and show the world, 'See!...I told you she'd be ok…I knew she wouldn't die.' La Founita was where she would find that answer, she was certain. All the young slayer thought about was that journey to find the solution and talking to Buffy was a distraction she could do without.

"Let's say I can be persuasive and charming when I want to." Kennedy didn't want to recall the episode because it would mean she'd have to take her attention away from the mission and touch upon her wealth, a topic she preferred stayed out of general knowledge. People, regular people, meaning anyone not filthy rich, tended to get fidgety around her when they became aware she came from money. She knew money didn't make the person; it didn't dictate character, good or bad, but others often thought it did. So, she tried to keep the subject out of conversations.

"Well that was a cryptic answer," said the blonde slayer, intrigued now, "You didn't beat up anyone, did you?" She said half serious. Buffy wasn't sure how far the impetuous younger slayer would go.

"No, no pummeling…it was all above board." Kennedy defended herself. Buffy kept staring at the brunette, to the point of distracting her from her driving. Kennedy knew the blonde would not let the matter be. "Fine, ok…I'll tell you." Driving, filling time, Kennedy told her story.

After walking away from Buffy, Kennedy started eyeing the vehicles in the parking lot. 'Could steal one' she suggested to herself – 'Nah, too stupid, definitely get caught' – she thought some more – 'could rent a car…no, not old enough and Giles isn't here to sign…take too long anyway.' Then she saw the desk manager from the previous night in the office. She formulated a plan.

"Hi, remember me, from last night? I was wondering if you could help me out…" Kennedy said to the man upon entering the office. She used her best All-American girl tone and smile. "Do you have a map; I need to find a town called La Founita." The smile kept beaming.

"Sorry, your friends in the bus took the last one," replied the manager.

"Oh darn," she replaced the smile with a pout then concerned dismay. "I really need to know. There're people waiting there and I need to go get them asap…they were supposed to be with us." The young man looked confused. Kennedy rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I don't know, some problem with their flight or the weather…I was just told they need to be with us before we can leave."

"Too bad," the manager responded.

Kennedy's eyes searched the young man and stopped at his name tag. "Ricky, is there any way you can help me…please." She combined desperation with flirting in her voice. It worked.

"Well…let me get on the computer in the back office, I'll do a mapquest search for 'ya." Kennedy thanked him with a wide smile and off he went.

Ricky came back several minutes later and handed the brunette a piece of paper – "Here are the directions. Don't know how your people ended up there, it's a tiny place a couple hours south of here." "You, Ricky, are a life saver," Kennedy exalted.

She then looked around and out the side office window, at the two vehicles parked in 'Employee Only' parking spaces. "That your car?" Kennedy said motioning her head toward the two vehicles.

"The Altima? Yeah, it's mine."

"It's nice."

"Gets me where I need to go. Got a kick-ass sound system I put in." Rick stated proudly.

Kennedy studied the man, and the car, then started her performance. "Ricky, I know you don't know me but I need to ask a favor from you. Please hear me out…I would like to borrow your car…" The man's eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. Before he could comment, Kennedy continued. "I need to get to that town, my two friends aren't here…I don't know when they'll be back. I have no other way to get a car. I can't ask you to take me…and I can't tell you why…you've just gotta trust me."

"You've got to be kidding…" Ricky started to look around. "Am I on one of those hidden camera shows?"

"No, I'm very serious, Ricky." The slayer looked him square in the eyes and pulled something out of her back pocket and placed it on the counter – her credit card. "I can't explain everything but I wouldn't ask if there was another way. There's no time for me to get cash, but I'll make you this offer…You take the card, I'll give you the PIN. You decide what your car's worth and put it on the card or you can get a cash advance. Believe me my credit limit is high enough. We can call the credit card company right now if you want…Please, Ricky, help me here." Kennedy locked eyes with the man's.

The young manger couldn't believe his ears. This was the weirdest thing to ever happen to him. A total stranger was willing to basically pay him the value of his car just to borrow it? He examined the small brunette before him, looking for any hint of a prank. This was no prank. She seemed honest. Something told him he had the chance to help a person in need. He decided to take a leap of faith. "Ok, I don't know why I'm doing this…" He knew it had partly to do with those beautiful brown eyes looking at him. "But I'll wait until you get back…to decide on a payment."

Kennedy was beaming. 'The kindness of strangers', she thought – straight out of Gone with the Wind – Scarlett was right. "You're a good person, Ricky…I'll bring your car back hopefully by early morning."

The man retrieved his keys and unhooked the ones for the Altima and placed them on a discarded chain from underneath the desk. He handed them to the brunette, with just a slight hesitation. Kennedy took them, said thank you again and started to turn to leave. She stopped suddenly, looked back at her new best friend and questioned, "You wouldn't by chance have a cell phone would you?"

Buffy was amazed and impressed with the younger slayer's ability. "You must be charming if you can pry a man's car away from him," she chuckled. "Although, I think he may want dinner and a movie as part of the payment." She saw the concern in Kennedy's face, a scenario the brunette hadn't considered. "Don't worry, Willow would put the kibosh to that."

"I hope so." Buffy heard a slight uncertainty nestled in Kennedy's words.

The slayers then continued their drive, silence overcoming them once again. Buffy found herself concentrating on her sister slayer. She had to admit she had issues with Kennedy. To the brunette's credit, Buffy did think she was brave, well-skilled and ready to fight. But she was headstrong, arrogant and too quick to butt into any situation. She challenged Buffy on issues that the blonde thought were beyond her understanding. Kennedy just didn't know when to stop pushing.

But she had also been there for Willow. Buffy knew her best friend was having a tough time getting through the days. But there was so much for Buffy to do, something had to give, and unfortunately because she was the slayer, it was their friendship. Then Kennedy showed up on her doorstep. It was obvious from the beginning that the potential had more on her mind than nursing Willow's emotional state. At first, that worried Buffy. Willow was so fragile, still so lost over the loss of Tara. The blonde was wary of the brash Kennedy taking advantage of her still shaky friend. But to her surprise, Kennedy didn't. In fact, Buffy began to notice Willow smiling more and laughing, something she hadn't seen since before Tara's death. Glancing at Kennedy, Buffy thought to herself how different the younger slayer and Tara were, but then realized that maybe that was exactly what Willow needed – something new and different. Kennedy had nudged her friend back to life and for that Buffy was grateful. The arrogant brat was gentle and protective of her witch, always protective like a slayer.

That brought another question to mind. "Kennedy, you knew you were a potential, right?" The question came from out of the air, and brought Kennedy, who was thinking about Willow, back to the present.

"Um, yeah…I found out when I was eight."

"What was it like knowing?" Buffy had a keen interest now.

Kennedy knew a silent ride wasn't in the cards. She contemplated the question and saw it as a meeting spot for the two, a subject that they shared, the slayer factor. "Well, I was young…so I really didn't get the responsibility part of it for a while. I thought it was cool that I would get to help people…you know, fight and save the damsel in distress." She continued. "I thought about it in the abstract…vampire slayer, protector…only seeing myself already as the slayer." Then the slayer grew more serious. "When I was sixteen, a friend of mine died in a motorcycle accident. It happened during the school year, so the whole school, practically, showed up for the wake..." There was a pause. "I remember how sad everyone was, the crying. His parents were devastated…It was an open casket…and I remember going up and standing next to it…looking at my friend. He was just lying there…dead." Kennedy took in a deep breath and shook her head slightly. "That's when it hit me. I'd never hang out with him again, never talk to him…He'd never finish high school…Whatever he had a chance to become was gone." The brunette shook her head again.

"That's when I really understood, for the first time, that for me to be a slayer some girl, probably my age, my friend's age, would have to die." The young slayer tightened her hands on the steering wheel. "It messed with my head for a while…until I realized I had to stop thinking about it that way. So I concentrated on the skills and fighting part, on the overall big picture and not the individual aspects."

"I get that." Buffy had had that same realization not long after becoming the slayer. One night when she couldn't sleep the thought filled and then consumed her mind. She ended up talking to Giles about it and he helped her through it. Buffy wondered if Kennedy's watcher had been as caring as her Giles. "What was your watcher like?"

Talking about Thomas brought painful memories to the young slayer, but she also wanted to honor him so she decided to share with Buffy this one personal part of herself. "He was great. His name was Thomas Sinclair and he became like a second father. He emphasized the physical…I mean, the weapons training and physical fitness."

"I always meant to tell you that you had very good fighting skills for a potential."

"He was a good teacher, and a friend."

"You must have been a good student." Kennedy felt a bit of pride with the compliment.

"I did my best and Thomas did his best to make me ready…and keep me focused."

"Sounds like there's a story there." Buffy's interest was peaked.

"Let's just say I did some things I'm not so proud of " – The conversation was getting to close to the brunette's personal demons and she was getting uncomfortable.

"What? Come home drunk and barf on the front lawn…get caught cheating on a math test?" Buffy teased the girl.

Kennedy's mind opened the gates and the memories came rushing. After she was 'given' a new room in the other wing of the house, Kennedy went wild. She decided her father really didn't want her at home, so she tried her best to make sure she wasn't. She went out every night, often all night, usually closing down a bar, with fake license in tow, and then heading to a bottle club until the wee hours. She spent money on everything and everyone. She was the belle of the ball so long as she kept the cash and the drinks flowing to the 'friends' she inevitably made at every club. She began to drink too much, on occasion ending up in a stranger's bed, not knowing how she got there. She drove like she had a death wish, teasing the reaper as she screeched around the corners of her neighborhood's winding country roads.

It all caught up with her one Friday evening, early Saturday would be a more accurate time. She was wasted, driving like the proverbial bat out of hell, when a deer darted out in front of her. She swerved; the car, her favorite little silver Mazda Miata, lost control and slid off the road, crashing into several small trees. The fact she wasn't killed still surprises her. She attributed her lack of serious injury to her vodka induced relaxed state. She broke only an arm and had some minor cuts and bruises. Her car was totaled. The police eventually came after a passing truck stopped and called 911. She spent the night in jail after a short visit to a nearby hospital, only being bailed out much later that day by her watcher. Her father was livid that his daughter would behave in such a reckless manner and soil the family name with such a stunt. Luckily, a large donation to the police athletic league kept the incident out of the papers.

That accident was Kennedy's wake up call, that and a heart to heart with Sinclair. He made her see that her life was worthy and so was she. She was never closer to the man than at that time, during their 'talk' on his patio on the day after the 'accident.' Kennedy instantly cleaned up her act and focused on her training and just as much on her education. "You need something to look forward to, a vocation you can be passionate about, Kennedy, just in case you don't become the slayer." Sinclair would tell her; he was a pragmatist and Kennedy's advancing age was making it less likely she would be 'chosen'. After the accident, she began to listen to his advice.

"Hello...earth to Kennedy…" It was the blonde slayer again.

"Oh…Sorry, just thinking of Thomas."

"Yeah, I'm sorry you lost him. The bringers got to a lot of good people." Buffy couldn't imagine losing Giles; the near misses they'd had were hell enough. She didn't know what else to say to the slayer.

Kennedy tried not to think back on that scene, the room when she found Thomas. The more she tried to block it out, the stronger it pushed into her memory. She had never seen such a horrific sight in her life. Blood was everywhere; she never knew there was so much blood in one person. Thomas Sinclair, the one person who understood her, who loved her, had been torn from her life, had been torn apart like day old bread for the birds and the pieces thrown around his kitchen. The snapshot of her walking into the room lingered in her head. She didn't know what she had found at first. The truth hit her when she touched the dark crimson ooze on the wall and felt a hard piece of something in it…it was bone. The brunette knew the blood soaked, mangled lumps strewed about were her Thomas when she spotted his watch lying in a pool of blood in the sink. She went numb. She didn't scream; she didn't run. Kennedy just slumped to the floor and cried, for hours. Once again she found herself alone.

Then Giles swept in that night, found her still sitting in the kitchen and took her to Sunnydale, to Willow. 'Maybe there is a reason for everything,' she wondered.

Her deliberation on the subject of destiny was cut short when the highway sign for the La Founita exit came into view. "Buffy, look." She pointed to the sign. Both women grew quiet.

Not long thereafter, the slayers were driving down La Founita's main street. "Feel anything?"

"No" – replied the brunette. "But there's got to be something here to let us know what to do next." So they examined each passing car, pedestrian and building. They looked for something out of the ordinary, anything that would shout out or even whisper, 'here, I'm your sign'. They kept moving forward.

Then Kennedy saw it, plain as day. She lifted her arm and moved her index finger in its direction. "The street sign, Buffy." It called to the slayers, leaning, almost bowing in respect, towards them so that it couldn't be missed. Both women stared at the name-

…Willow Lane…

"This is it, Kennedy…let's go." Kennedy steered the Altima down the windy road. The slayers knew they were closing in on the answer.

Chapter Sixteen – Speaking in Tongues

Kennedy and Buffy drove down Willow Lane, waiting for the next indication of their mysterious flight's destination. The hues of dusk were permeating through the forest lined roadway. Greens and browns from the trees melting into grays and blacks. The sinking sun's rays piercing through tree limbs sporadically, sending a streaking kaleidoscope of colors across the landscape around them. They kept driving, first on pavement, then gravel, and lastly dirt, the road narrowing with each changing surface. They proceeded, winding their way past abandoned houses, dilapidated barns and long forgotten crop fields. Nothing caught their attention, nothing stole their breath. So they continued.

Aguilo saw it first, like a night owl coming to swoop down on its prey – two piercing white eyes in the distance on the road where night had already settled. The eyes grew larger and closer, changing into headlights, the owl transforming into a car. Aguilo and the old woman waited at the end of the road, at the end of the world as known to most. For on the other side of the mammoth stones behind the two clansmen existed something beyond this earthly domain; something of this and other dimensions. A supernatural combination of the worldly and other worldly. The two before the stones were the doormen into that place, theirs the obligation to accept only the invited, only the requested were welcomed.

The Altima continued forward, the need for light apparent, the headlights like outstretched hands feeling for a sign. Then Buffy saw them. "Kennedy…look straight ahead…a-are those…people?"

"It looks like it…what are…are they just standing there?" The hairs stood on the back of the brunette's neck and a sudden chill swept through her. "Did you just get the willies?"

"That would be a big yes…" Buffy replied, shaking, goosebumps appearing on her arms. "There's something about those two…this is our next move."

"Agree with 'ya on that one. You think they're dangerous?"

As the vehicle drew closer, the slayers could see no one else, just a middle aged man and a very old woman. Buffy saw no weapons on or around them. "This may sound weirdsville, but I don't get the feeling they want to hurt us."

"Yeah, I'm sure they're just the welcoming committee. That old lady's gonna whip out a bundt cake any second now." Kennedy mused trying to crack the tension.

The vehicle was almost directly upon the two townspeople when Kennedy stopped the car, put it in park and studied the figures who hadn't budged. After a few minutes of scrutiny, she said plainly, "Well, let's go make some friends." She turned off the ignition but left the lights on. She placed her right hand into the cup holder opening in the console and caressed the cell phone with her fingers. She picked it up slightly, hesitated, then placed it back into its resting area. The young slayer decided there would be no awkward incoming call chiming to interrupt whatever was about to happen. Kennedy then started to open her door. Before Buffy could react, Kennedy was out and headed for the unknown. Shaking her head in worry, the blonde slayer followed.

Aguilo and the old woman said nothing. They were reading the auras of the two women. At least they knew the object of the ritual was mortal. There were times when the dimensional folding exchanged forces, magickal objects and even demons. Aguilo had never been witness to a human corporeal release, but it made no alteration to the inevitable. He had his duty to fulfill regardless of the form the misplaced took. For he was no longer Aguilo, artichoke farmer, but the anointed one, charged with overseeing the clan's holy obligation and protecting their birthright.

But all was not right, the anointed had felt and seen the fated, a magnificent white burning essence. Before him now stood no such thing. There was power to be sure, immense power from the two women, but not the power in his vision. Aguilo became uneasy, fearing trouble for his people. He spoke not, but waited for the strangers to show their hand.

Kennedy slowly walked up to the pair, Buffy following behind searching for clues of a possible ambush. Dusk had taken full hold, the glaring headlights necessary to illuminate the destined meeting.

"Hello…we're here looking…I believe…for y-you…our friend is very sick…" The young slayer had no time for introductions or niceties, Willow's disintegrating condition required quick action. "We…" she nodded her head back to include Buffy, "…need to know how t-t-to make her w-well…can you help us?" She was scared, but courteous and firm.

When the old woman spoke neither slayer knew to whom she spoke, if anyone, or what she said. The old woman never moved her eyes, she seemed to be looking behind or through the slayers. And what she spoke wasn't English. But the anointed knew the words, the mutated Spanish used – their mother tongue. "They are not the One. The Mystery does not seek them" she said. Aguilo replied in the same cryptic language, "I know, but they have knowledge of the vessel."

The two slayers watched the exchange and concluded they were being sized up. Kennedy was unsure of the pair's intention; they were like statues, they never moved nor showed emotion. But she knew they had understood her. The brunette looked to her side, to Buffy who was also staring intently at the two people before them, sizing them up. She formulated her next line; she knew she had to break through to the mismatched couple.

As they took the next leap into unchartered waters, neither slayer heard the cell phone come to life, bell-toning Evanescence's "Bring me to Life" to announce an incoming call.

Kennedy tried again gambling on her next words, "Please, we don't have much time…our friend is…is dying…you must help us." With that said, the brunette closed the several feet gap between her and the strangers and placed her hand on the old woman's arm, looking her directly in the eyes.

The old woman jerked at the touch, a sensation spidering through her, almost a tangible current. She felt a connection, not just to this brown eyed girl but something else, someone else – the focus of the shift. "This woman is a slayer…and she is connected to the One," she whispered to the anointed in their dialectic code.

That's when Kennedy heard it, when she understood it. Fragments of the last jumbled dialogue between the strangers somehow started to pelt Kennedy's memory. One or two of their noises seeping into her grey matter like they were somehow familiar. This time she knew, she had heard it clear enough.

"Yes…a slayer and so is my friend here." She said looking at them, cautiously waiting for their reaction.

And react, they did. The clansmen stared bewildered at each other and then at Kennedy. How could she have understood them, the medicine man thought. Aguilo frowned, not convinced these women with power weren't there to disrupt his people. The old woman looked deep into dark brown eyes and offered an opening – but only if the brunette was true of mind, "You understand me? You know why you are here?"

The brunette struggled to translate the words. She was of Latin descent and one of her mother's uncompromising demands was that her daughter learn Spanish, and not just the classroom version, but her people's tongue. Between her maternal relatives' teachings and school courses, Kennedy was fluent in the language. Kennedy never felt so thankful to her deserting mother and her heritage as she did at that moment. The words from the old woman however were not from the Spanish she knew. This was a very different dialect, but she realized some foundational aspects were constant. Rolling the words around in her head, Kennedy translated, hopefully correctly she prayed, 'understood', 'you' and 'know why here.' So she answered, "I understand only some words. And we're here to save our friend."

During this entire banter, Buffy was totally bewildered, hearing only half a discussion in English. She was still a few steps behind Kennedy, not wanting to disturb the delicate dance that had started. "Kennedy, you understand them? What language is it? Something demonic?"

"It's Spanish…only some weird variation." The young slayer was amazed that the Scoobies could decipher languages from long extant civilizations and any number of demonic vocabularies but they didn't know Spanish…living in southern California.

"Oh…Why'd you tell them we're slayers…What's going on?" As an aside Buffy thought 'who knew she was bilingual?'

"That's what I'm trying to find out." Kennedy said sharply. She wanted to be talking with the strangers, not filling in Buffy on the finer points of linguistics.

Kennedy went back to the old woman. She could feel that she was the linchpin. "We need to know what will make our friend better."

"There is no better…there is only balance. We only guide the One in the journey." The old woman spoke to Kennedy and placed her aging hand on the brunette's face. She let her crippled fingers slide down her cheek and to her lips, momentarily. Upon the touch, the old woman had a vision of the essence, saw the physical manifestation – she saw Willow. She breathed in roughly, "Ah…a witch…" She returned her stare to Kennedy, "You seek worldly answers…I canno…"

The anointed cut her off. "Enough, she is not the One, do not expose us…you have said too much already." But the old woman was not affected. She took his hand and placed it on Kennedy's cheek. "She is connected to the One, you can feel it." And he did. Aguilo too saw Willow, the white essence surrounding her, trickling its way into him. But he was otherwise unchanged. "What good is it…she can do nothing. The witch should be here. The Mystery evokes the ritual for the witch."

Kennedy understood enough to grow angry. "She has a name…Willow. And there must be a way to save her."

Aguilo now took charge. With Buffy looking on still confused and unable to comprehend the magnitude of the discussion, the anointed said defiantly, "There is no way, the Great Mystery has shifted. It seeks balance…it will have it…the witch is the price for harmony. We can only honor the transfer, ferry her to the waiting dimensional divide…Her earthly vessel will die, but her essence will move on. It is the way, it has been the way for all time." His words were like laws etched in stone, unbreakable, unchangeable.

Kennedy struggled with the words, not only their translation but their meaning. That couldn't be right. They were supposed to find the answer in this place. She was supposed to prove that Willow wasn't dying. She stared at the two strangers, looking for a crack in their resolve, searching for any sign that she had misunderstood the words. The old woman nodded her head, "It is the truth."

Kennedy's expression dropped, her heart sank into her gut and she looked like she was about to be sick. Her whole body slouched and she brought her hands to her face, covering it to keep the rest from seeing the tears forming in her eyes. She had been wrong; Willow was dying. Buffy became frantic and confused and began shouting at the brunette, "Kennedy…what did they…what did they say…tell me, someone…tell me…"

After regaining some control, the younger slayer responded, "They say there's no help…Willow's going to…" There was a long pause, then the final blow, "…die." The statement was flat and filled with forced resignation.

"No, no…that c-c-can't…be…Willow can't…die…t-there…there m-m-must be some…way…" Buffy was in shock. She couldn't move, not her legs, her arms or mouth; she remained fixed on Kennedy.

The old woman spoke, her language now a knife twisting in Kennedy's heart, "There is no way…death for birth…it is the never ending cycle of all existence."

The young slayer was beginning to pick up more words the more the strangers spoke. She thought hard at the last comment – 'death for birth' – she wanted to get closer to the strangers, make them divulge every nuance possible. She abandoned English and spoke to them in Spanish, the grandchild dialectic to their mother tongue, instinctively knowing they would understood her. "Why her death...why not some demon's?"

Buffy was now completely lost. She was devastated over the news about Willow and now Kennedy had also starting speaking a different language. Immobility having abandoned her, she crouched to the ground to gather her thoughts.

To the brunette's question, Aguilo responded, "The Mystery knows not good or evil, it just knows."

"So why can't we kill a demon…a very powerful demon…use its essence to replace the balance." Kennedy was searching for a loophole.

Aguilo admired the woman's fortitude, her unrelenting drive. He shook his head, "No. With or without our guidance, the witch will die…we could have eased the journey for her…without us she will not go easily, but she will go…Eventually, she will give freely into death. That is the way. It must be freely given. The Mystery does not take finality, it only receives."

Kennedy's head was pounding. How could this be, how could she lose her Willow? How could the world lose Willow? She couldn't feel her body, breathing came in forced spurts; her brain was a cyclone of distorted thoughts. She was losing control. The thought of her Willow dying…of the pain and experience being so hard that she would rather die, was too much. She dropped her head down, staring at the ground, her shoes, staring at nothing. She ran her fingers through her hair, then again. Those hands came to rest over her ears. She closed her eyes, squeezing them as hard as she could. She had to push out the world, lock it out of her head so she could think. Kennedy stretched her imagination to its limit, forcing a solution over reason, searching for the possible in the midst of the impossible. '…choose to die…freely given…'

Time seemed to pass so slowly, but it was merely a few minutes. During that darkness, once again, the cell phone sang without an audience.

Brown eyes fluttered then opened quickly and fully. Her eyes darted, left and right…a spark – which became an idea, then grew. 'That's it,' the brunette thought. She raised her head and went to Buffy behind her, took her by the forearm, pulling her up to stand, "Willow's gonna be fine." Her words were confident and strong.

She turned, stared at the anointed and the old woman and calmly said in Spanish, "Take me."

Chapter Seventeen – The Answer

Aguilo was stunned at the brunette slayer's declaration. "You are not the witch" – the clansman's mother tongue in tact.

"You said the universe doesn't care, it just needs the power…for balance…I'm a slayer, I have the power." Kennedy responded emphatically in Spanish. She knew this could work but she could not let Buffy know of her solution. She had to keep the blonde slayer in the dark.

Aguilo was quick to retort, "Yes, but it is not that easy. Life must be given freely…of one's own will."

"I do. This is my choice."

"You are desperate, you will say anything. It must be of pure intent."

"Being desperate doesn't mean I don't mean it…Take me instead."

The anointed was growing impatient. "Why…why would you give your life?"

Kennedy gave no response; she looked away from the man. Buffy had been waiting for an explanation from her counterpart which was still hidden from her. "What's going on, Kennedy? W-what's the plan?" The brunette ignored her.

Aguilo verbally attacked Kennedy, straining to prove his point. "You have no reason because you do not want to give up your life. You have power, slayer, and you want to use it. It is your destiny to use it. You know it is the witch that must die."

Kennedy looked back at Aguilo and softly offered, "No...she must live, take me…I'm ready…I don't care about my future." To herself, the brunette added 'without her, I have no future.'

The anointed would not accept this,"Why…Why die for this witch?" The man wanted Kennedy to realize she was making a foolish empty gesture. He had no time for such childish games. "There is nothing, you have no reason…your heart would rebel in an instant."

"No, it won't…my heart chooses this…"

"Why…why…WHY…"

"She loves the witch."

The old woman had been closely watching, searching Kennedy's eyes, face, body language, anything as evidence of weakness in her assertion. There was none. Then the old woman felt it; the slayer's reason – love…love for the witch, strong and pure and deep. Strong enough to die for her.

"She will not turn, her heart chooses freely."

Aguilo stopped his interrogation. The old woman would not speak ill advice. But he was still uncertain. "Even if she gives freely, the witch is not here…and this girl, even if a slayer, may not suffice. The divide may not close." He stared at the old woman. "It is too risky. We have a calling, a sacred duty to the Mystery…It is our master alone."

The old woman hobbled the few steps to Kennedy and once again touched upon her face. This time she left skin on skin, cracked flesh of the ages on supple flesh of youth. She slowly closed her eyes, and wandered, through the brunette's heart, her soul – being judge and jury of her worth, using Kennedy as the keyhole to the exchange. When she had her answer, the old woman dropped her hand and motioned to Aguilo, "She is enough. You can feel the shifting…you have felt it. Much has been returned already. This slayer is strong, her power will bring balance. Our obligation will be done."

"Old woman, it is not ours to decide the focus…who are we to alter the nature of the chosen."

This was a reason, one reason, the old woman was still on this earth – to give a lesson of compassion. "There are many things we cannot change, many things we should not. But we must be brave enough to observe those moments when we must alter the path. Our sacred obligation contains kindness, the calling to ease the transition. This is not an intangible…this is human life…"

Kennedy still could not understand much of the volley between the pair, but she was certain the old woman was pleading her case.

The old woman continued, "We have the chance to smooth the journey into the divide…allow the witch's soul to escape the physical torment to her eventual submission. This slayer will go freely, her submission will come easily for us. Our ritual can reach both, we can make it reach both…the slayer has the witch with her…our force, our consecrated words, can unite all…this can be done in separate places."

Aguilo worked the old woman's words like a mathematician trying to solve an intricate equation – checking, cross checking and dismissing misplaced reasoning. He was 'the anointed'; his decision was final and would doom or glorify his clanship. He would not respond until his decision was solid as stone.

"That's it, I want to know what's going on, and I want to know NOW!" Buffy had been silent for too long. She could not hold her dismay and confusion at bay any longer. Up until now, she had been an anecdote in this conversation of supernatural forms. She was the slayer, being relegated to the category of unnecessary did not sit well. Her friend's life was at stake, and she could not wait for her counterpart to pick the time to enlighten her. "Kennedy, tell me now…how is Will going to be ok?"

The younger slayer stared at Aguilo and the old woman waiting for their answer. Aguilo nodded…yes. Kennedy's faith was restored and her fate sealed. She turned to Buffy, her sister slayer, 'the' slayer before history was changed forever. She knew what she had to do.

"Buffy, there is a spell they can do. It will give Willow her power back, her life back…She'll be fine…" Kennedy hesitated a moment, "…but because she's not here…one of us has to stay…there has to be someone here to do a part of the ritual…and the other has to go back to Willow and do another part…but we can save her, Buffy."

Kennedy quickly looked at the clansmen, her eyes demanding they not flinch at her words, they not disclose her deception. "I think you should go back to Willow."

"Why me? This could be dangerous. I've still been doing this longer, Kennedy."

"Can you speak Spanish?"

With that, the blonde knew she was the one to go back. "Ok, what do we do?"

It seemed to be a simple spell, at least that's what it appeared like on paper. Just a few words separating Willow's life from death. Buffy examined the paper handed to her by Kennedy. The brunette had had a discussion with the strangers after it was decided she would stay. The brunette then went to the car and searched for pen and paper. She transcribed the words dictated by the anointed. Kennedy wrote them in Spanish; she could not afford any questioning by Buffy. Kennedy then told the older slayer the rest of the ritual for the redhead. "They say you need seven candles, lit and placed in a circle around her. Also get a staff…it can be a stick…ruler…rod, so long as it's straight…and hold it over her while you say the chant. Repeat the chant every two hundred heartbeats. They say to keep saying it…you'll know when to stop."

"Kennedy, I'm still not sure about this…how do we know there's enough time? How do we know you'll be safe?"

"If you hurry, there'll be time. And don't worry about me, I'm a slayer, remember…I can handle this…I know what I'm getting into."

All directions understood, the two slayers walked back to the car and Buffy got into the driver's seat, shut the door, started the car and opened the window. Kennedy spied the cell phone and reached in across Buffy to get it. She could not allow anything to disturb her plan or Buffy's return to the motel. "Let me have this…so you can call and let me know Will's fine." She knew it was a call she'd never answer.

"Ok…I'll call the second she's better." Buffy promised.

"By the way, Buffy…if ever there was a time for your true driving ability to shine…now's it." Kennedy chuckled and gave a small smile.

"I'll get there, spell intact..." the blonde slayer became serious, "You be careful, Willow will kick my ass if you get hurt."

"Just get to Will as fast as you can."

Kennedy took a few steps back. Buffy placed the Altima in drive and started to leave. Kennedy then rushed to the car and said to Buffy, through slightly uneven breath, "Tell Willow I love her."

Sensing this would be a new revelation to the redhead, Buffy replied sweetly, "You'll be able to tell her yourself." Kennedy merely smiled. She backed from the vehicle and watched as the taillights grew smaller, then disappear.

Kennedy looked at the phone in her hand, flipped it open and saw the lighted message alerting her to two missed calls. Staring at it for a few seconds, the brunette turned the phone off and let it slip out of her hand onto the ground. She returned to the strangers and said in English, "I'm all yours."

Chapter Eighteen – Truth be Told

From the time Giles and Xander returned to the motel, there had been a flurry of activity, that is if watching Willow or waiting by the phone could be considered a flurry or activity. After his brief discussion with Faith, Giles went to his room and immediately called the coven with his information. Unfortunately, they had none further for him, but did say they would research the Truxdeiro. The watcher then phoned one of his fellow remaining council members also seeking any assistance in the history and present state of that entity. Then he waited, like a patient waiting for the test results to tell him if his cancer was malignant or benign. For Giles knew Willow's very life depended on the information he would gather from these sources. Being reliant upon someone other than himself for mystical analysis felt somehow wrong to the watcher. Willow was no slayer, but the man still felt responsible for her, her well being. He felt responsible for all the Scoobies. So he waited and, every so often, tried to contact the two defected slayers.

While Giles was hunting down information on the Truxdeiro, Xander and Faith attempted to wake Willow. They shook her, shouted at her and put a cold towel to her face. They pinched her, sat her up and tried to make her drink some water. Nothing elicited a response from the witch. She was a human Raggedy Ann. But this strange, new fairy tale would not end in her coming back to life. Whatever was happening to Willow, her body had no role in the play.

After failing at their endeavors, Faith and Xander resigned themselves to waiting for Giles. Faith tried a few more times to reach her sister slayers to no avail. "I don't know Xander…I'm starting to get an uneasy feeling about this. One of 'em shoulda called by now."

"Maybe not calling is a good sign…maybe it means they've found an answer...a-a-and their working on getting Will better as we speak." Xander could not think anything except that Buffy would save the day, save his friend – their friend. She had always come through before and he decided she had to again. So he would not give into the small voice, deep inside his head that said the odds had finally caught up with all of them.

"Damn, I wish something would just happen." Faith was getting overly anxious.

At that moment, there was a knock.

Faith went to the door, expecting Giles, and instead looked eye to eye with Buffy.

"Oh my God, Buffy…you're back." Xander exalted as he hurried over to her. He then realized she was alone. "Where's Kennedy?" -thinking it strange that the brunette slayer had not come directly to check on her girlfriend.

"She's not here. Where's Giles? We found a way to save Willow, but we need to act…now." Buffy was firm, she knew time was not on their side and Willow's future rested on the swiftness of their actions.

"He's in his room, waiting to hear from the coven…we found out more info from the Condolenza guy…but I guess we won't need it now." Xander was not upset that the additional information learned from his Hog's Bend trip appeared to have been unnecessary.

"Get him…he needs to do a spell and we need some supplies first." Buffy's order was directed to Faith.

"I'll be back in sec -" and off she went.

While Faith hunted down Giles, Buffy and Xander brought each other up to date. Xander told the blonde of the weird visit to Condolenza and Willow's present condition, which he said with as much delicacy as possible. Buffy replayed her voyage to La Founita and the gibberish amongst all but her with its ultimate result in the spell for Willow.

Xander looked astounded. "I didn't know Kennedy was bilingual?"

"Me neither, Xan…you shoulda seen her talking up a storm."

In the midst of their bewilderment over Kennedy's multinational vocabulary, Faith walked in with Giles. "Finally…what took you two so long?"

"Good to see you too, Buffy." Giles replied. "I was on the phone with the coven when Faith came to get me…I'm so glad you're back…but Faith says Kennedy isn't with you?" With what the watcher had just learned from the coven, the brunette's absence was disturbing.

"No, she's still in La Founita…we have a spell that will make Willow better…" She then recounted to Giles the story she had told Xander, except at its conclusion handing to him the piece of paper with the spell on it. "…after Kennedy gave this to me, I made a beeline for here. I'm surprised I didn't get stopped for speeding. We need seven candles and a stick to go with the spell…and we have to keep repeating the spell every two hundred heartbeats…which I figure is about every two and a half minutes." Buffy was sounding hopeful now, her friend's recovery seemingly in reach. "So…what do 'ya think, Giles?"

The watcher didn't respond, his eyes fixated on the words on the small piece of paper. He was expressionless.

"Giles…what's wrong?" The blonde slayer's hope shrunk with the words.

"Buffy…did Kennedy tell you what this meant?" The watcher questioned, already knowing the answer.

"No, she just told me to say the words…they're not in English…I figured they were in the language the guy and the old lady spoke." The slayer was worried now. "W-w-what do they…say?" Buffy wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Giles looked at the paper…the words…

Muerte para la vida y la vida de la muerte.

Todo esta conectado.

El viajero se cruza encima a ser y hace el misterio.

"It's in Spanish…it says 'Death for life and life from death. All is connected. The traveler crosses over to being and becomes the mystery'…" The paper fell from Giles' grasp.

"I don't understand…K-kennedy said this was just a spell…spell to make Willow better…she…she n-never said anything about death." The blonde slayer was getting a sinking feeling in her gut.

"G-man, so what's the big deal? It's just a spell…death might mean something else." Again, Xander would not give into defeat.

Giles took his glasses off and began rubbing his forehead. He had pieced the puzzle together and the picture brought deep sorrow. "No, death here means death…a person's death…Kennedy's." He brought his hand to his face and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

As if in unison, the three remaining standing figures in the room shouted, "What!"

Giles was again the bearer of bad news. "The coven had information on the Truxdeiro. They're an ancient people who perform rituals when there has been a cosmic shift in the universe…meaning when too much power has been created or has shifted from one dimension to another…a shift too big to adjust on its own or one where there's no one or thing to realign the power. They…assist the universe in shifting energy back…to get the balance back in the universe." The watcher looked around like a teacher in a classroom, checking to see if his students had kept up with the lecture. Seeing intense eyes staring back, he continued. "The Truxdeiro do a ritual that helps the entity out of balance, be that demon, a force…or a mortal…with the journey into the proper dimension. It is their obligation to make the journey quicker and easier for whatever is shifting. But a shift has to happen…it's the only way for the universe to regain the balance. There 'has' to be an exchange."

"So how does that lead to Kennedy?"

"Well, Buffy…if the thing out of place is a person, or the energy in a person…the only way for balance is for the person to…die…to release all the energy." Giles hated having to explain what would be the eventual death of yet another slayer. "That's why Willow's condition has been getting worse…She's been…dying. Her essence has been slowly being withdrawn from her."

"Giles, get to the part about Kennedy." Xander knew the watcher was stalling.

"This spell gives life back to Willow because Kennedy has agreed to take her place…She's going to die…to let her power give balance so Willow can live…I suspect that this spell helps Willow regain her natural essence…once the focus is on Kennedy." At that moment Giles felt like he never wanted the duties of a watcher again. He was through with death and gloom and having to witness the selflessness of slayers which only led to heartache.

Buffy was speechless. Her mind raced. Why didn't Kennedy tell her this? How could she not have known this was Kennedy's plan? Why didn't she pay more attention, push the brunette slayer for more information when she was still with her?...How could she have failed? The slayer brought her hands to her face and cried into them, "No…No, she can't…she can't give up her life…even for Willow."

After a long silence, it was Xander who spoke first, who saw the forest through the trees. "Buffy…Kennedy's doing this for a reason…she loves Willow…she would do anything to keep her from dying…even giving up her own life."

At that moment, Xander understood the depth of Kennedy's love for Willow, for he would have gladly traded places with Anya at the final battle, taken a sword to assure her life. He went to his friend and touched her shoulder lightly, comfortingly, "Kennedy chose Willow over herself…if we don't go through with the spell, we'll only dishonor that." Xander glanced around the room and saw Giles nodding his head in agreement.

"Xander's right Buffy…I'm sure Kennedy wouldn't have made the choice if she felt there was another way."

"Why didn't she tell me?" It was said with child like innocence.

"Because she knew you wouldn't let her go through with it…and she felt she had to…"

Faith had been quietly absorbing every detail, every word spoken. She had liked the brunette from their initial meeting, but now she admired the younger slayer, her strength to put another life before hers. Exposing oneself to death fighting evil and killing demons was one thing, but voluntarily choosing to die…that took real courage. Faith had seen glimpses of that courage in Kennedy before and during the final battle. The once dark slayer knew she was only alive because the brunette refused to leave her behind after the tunnel explosion. Faith knew she owed Kennedy.

"I'm gonna go get her." The remark from Faith caught the others by surprise.

"It's no use Faith…It's already almost ten thirty. By the time you got there she'd probably already …" Giles couldn't finish the sentence.

"I don't care…she didn't leave me behind…and I won't leave her either…she shouldn't die alone…she shouldn't be left dead out in the middle of…fucking nowhere." Her words were defiant.

Overwhelmed by the situation, the group finally acquiesced to Faith's demand. She would take the car and return to La Founita, to hopefully retrieve the body of their fallen sister. Buffy provided Faith with every detail she could remember – directions, the meeting place, the strangers. She told Faith she would first need to get gas; Buffy had actually worried she'd run out on her journey back.

As Faith took the keys to leave, Buffy caught her by the arm and said earnestly, "I know you want to do this…but if it looks like you're in danger…get out…I don't want to lose another…friend." The dark haired slayer smiled and walked out the door.

Chapter Nineteen – Shadowlands

A ride through a worm hole, through the mind's equivalent of a space worm hole, that is the only description Willow could give to her most recent thrust back into the cosmic unconsciousness. Initially, when she was pulled back, there was blackness…and pain. The redhead was being pulled inside out, not of the flesh but of the mind, the soul. Then the torment would cease, giving the witch false hope that her plea to fight for her life had succeeded. Only the pain would start again. The cycle continued, each time the redhead sensing that she was losing her grasp on the fight, on her ability to hold back from surrendering. How long the vicious attacks lasted, she could no longer sense. Time became less relevant with each passing assault on her mind and soul. When she felt at the point of complete submission, she was sucked into the ethereal worm hole. Flashes of light rushed by her at unimaginable speeds while her dream body contorted and rocked erratically as if in a barrel plummeting down Niagara Falls. Then there was the descent after the tunnel, the tranquil, silent drop…into a…room?

Willow found herself in the middle of a small room. She quickly glanced around, seeing no one else present. She touched her face and looked down at her own body. The witch knew her surroundings were not real, that the real her was still unconscious in the motel bed, but how she ended in her present situation bewildered the woman. She was more than just dream Willow, more than flesh; she sensed she did exist in her very real environment. The redhead felt like she had been dropped into another time. There was no fear or apprehension; something inside her told her she was safe, that she knew this place.

The gold Fabrage egg on the Queen Ann's card table propelled the memory to the forefront of Willow's mind…she was standing in her grandmother's sun room. A joyful feeling came over the witch; she remembered such wonderful times spent with her quirky old Nana. Snapshots of weekends spent camping out in that room and afternoons filled with leprechaun hunting passed before her eyes. Nana was the first adult who really listened to Willow, heard her dreams and opinions and fears. The two would spend hours discussing everything from world events to the latest best sitcom. It was her Nana that spurred her thirst for knowledge, her love of learning. They were good, special memories for Willow, ones she cherished in the heart.

"Willow…come in the kitchen now..you're soup'll get cold." The redhead knew that voice instantly, although she hadn't heard it since she was thirteen. "Nana?" she said as she turned around. And there the woman stood, just as Willow remembered her in her memories, in a blue cotton pull-over dress, full of life, smiling. Not the withered, cancer-ridden corpse she looked upon at her grandmother's funeral.

"Nana…is it really you?"

"Of course, silly." Willow always thought her grandmother had the sweetest voice. Even when she was mad, she sounded like she was sharing an inside joke.

"But how can this be? You've been gone for…" Then it hit her,"…oh, my God, am I…d-dead?"

Smiling, the older woman said, "Do you feel dead, dear?"

"No…" Willow could never get a straight answer to anything out of the woman.

"This must be something else then…you really should come in, lunch is getting cold."

Somehow Willow didn't think she was there for nutritional purposes. Then the question just seemed to pop out of her mouth, "Nana, what's it like being dead?" The redhead didn't even think the words came from her mouth at first.

"Dead is such a small word. It's only used by the living…because they don't know any better." She said it like commenting on why puppies have accidents in the house. "Death is just another word for life. I know you don't understand, but you will."

Willow furrowed her brows, confused and a bit dismayed at the present scene. "Honey, if you don't want soup, I don't think I can help you right now." The redhead instinctively knew she wasn't meant to stay, that this was an appetizer in a much larger cosmic meal. "I know Nana, but it was nice to see you again." The statement was honest.

"Yes, it was my dear…but I have a kitchen to clean and I believe you have plans, too-" Willow's grandmother gave her one last smile and turned to walk out the room. Willow reached out her arms to touch the woman then stopped, instead saying softly, "Good bye, I love you, Nana…"

Willow's head began to ache, the room to spin and, instantly, she was back in the worm hole. This ride, she saw images as she jostled around in the celestial taxicab. This time, she saw the speeding images of friends, schoolmates and adversaries. At first, the vignettes were of specific events from her past, meeting Buffy, her initial magick spell, her first time with Oz – all important stops in her life. Then the scenes changed, they were of faces. But they were the faces of those now dead…Anya, Spike, Jonathan, Jenny Calendar…the faces kept coming. It was like a silent movie where the storyline was her life and the actors people that had been torn from it. Strangely, the witch felt no fear or harm from these images, just the opposite, there was an aura of serenity that swept by with the faces. The serenity that comes with the acquisition of knowledge – true knowledge.

Before Willow could ponder the significance of the experience, the worm hole spit her out once again.

The redhead knew where she was even before she opened her eyes, before she stood up from the crouch she was in after the fall. She could smell the jasmine in the air. That scented candle was Tara's favorite. There was often one in their room. Willow slowly opened her eyes; anxious to see her, fearing her need to see her.

"Hey baby-"

It was the soft, calming voice that had been ripped from her life. They were both standing in their bedroom at Buffy's house; it was the day Tara was murdered.

"Tara…Tara…it's really you…" The redhead, in the back of her mind, knew this was still somehow a cosmic revelation, her placement in a real time event for some other worldly lesson, but she didn't care. Tara was alive, as much alive as she could be. "Oh, Tara…I've missed you…There were times I…d-didn't think I could make it through the day, I missed you so much." There were a thousand things Willow wanted to say to her blonde witch-how she wished she had taken the bullet, how sorry she was for every harsh word or act she ever did to her gentle love, how she carried the girl's goodness and their love inside her everyday. All she could do was gaze upon those clear blue eyes, not knowing where to start.

"I know baby…you don't have to say anything…I know what you feel…I know you…" Tara spoke like a mother comforting her child, full of love and understanding. The blonde took the few steps to close the gap between her and her regretful witch. She placed her hand to Willow's face, her fingers barely grazing her cheek. Willow shuddered at the touch, that touch which had deserted her what seemed so long ago. The touch that now felt like it had never left her. She leaned her head into the blonde witch's hand, to keep that lingering touch alive.

The witch realized that the closer her real self came to death, the nearer to reality her dream state became. She had been experiencing her version of her life flashing before her eyes. The redhead's instincts were whispering to her that this was the end of her journey, that she had come to the crossroads of her mortal self and that which belonged to the other side. The side with peace, no pain…the side with Tara.

"Tara…is this where I end?"

"It's not for me to choose, baby-"

"I feel so tired Tara…tired of the pain and the struggle."

"I know…but Willow, that's not all you feel."

"Kennedy-" The name was a softly spoken proclamation to the witch's prior resolve to fight through the pain and continue. Willow thought about her slayer and the promise the brunette had made to her, that she would find the answer. It was a whispered pledge in Willow's memory, how it got there she couldn't recall. Could she give up on her slayer?..Could she hold on?

"It's for you to choose, Willow…follow your heart." Tara's words were light as gossamer wings. Green eyes gazed upon blue, a simple gesture that had been shared between the two witches many times before. "You always knew what to say…" Emerald eyes never left those of the blonde witch, the moment lasted a lifetime.

"You've made your choice…"

Willow's world turned black.

Chapter Twenty – The Waiting Hours

Kennedy followed as Aguilo made his way through the crooked opening between the two giant stones that stood silent in the night at the site where the brunette had closed the book on her future. The old woman was behind her. The walk through the rock formations was long and difficult; there was no path and the young slayer found herself traversing up rock sides, over fallen tree trunks and around boulders. She kept up with the man in front of her and had all but forgotten about the old woman, convinced she must have turned around or taken some alternate route. They finally broke through to a clearing, after a significant drop from a cliff edge. She brushed off the dirt and twigs gathered on the way and looked around. To her disbelief, Aguilo was several feet off to her side talking to the old woman. Kennedy had no explanation for how the woman got there, seemingly before them. She started to think that the old woman had magickal tendencies much like her Willow. She secretly chastised herself for ever believing magick was nothing more than 'fairy tale crap.' – 'What an idiot I was on that one-' she thought.

Noise brought Kennedy back to her surroundings and, after her eyes adjusted to the moonlight's glow, she was amazed at what she saw. There were towering rocks all around and huge trees filling in the fissures in between. If she were in Colorado or New Mexico, she would have concluded the rocks were cliffs or buttes. She realized they formed a circular enclosure, and though not good with distances, she estimated the clearing was about seventy-five to one hundred feet in diameter. She and her two companions were at what appeared to be the back end of the clearing. There was a large pit in the ground about two-thirds of the way up. It was a decent sized hole with small boulders lining the pit's edge. It was full of logs and she could tell it was used to house a fire.

At the front of the clearing was a stone altar, but this was a different stone than the soaring rocks that kept guard on the site. This stone looked almost to have been formed, carved by the hands of an artesian gifted in his craft. It was obvious the ceremonial structure was solidly built, and yet it somehow appeared delicate in ways, able to be taken to and fro.

The brunette continued to absorb her location as she walked around a bit. There were wooden carvings of foxes and snakes all around. There were ones of an object that Kennedy could only guess was some type of animal jaw. The carvings were of differing sizes but all had the touches only a fine wood carver could give. They were exceptional pieces of art she thought to herself. She realized the carvings weren't just anywhere. They were placed around the pit, in front of the altar and by the looming rocks like guards for the area.

There were also several tall poles sunk in the ground attached to which were drawings on what looked like leather skins. The drawings, primitive stick like figures, were of the same themes as the carvings. The brunette counted six of these poles, two behind the altar to the sides, two by the outer edges of the clearing even with the pit and two at the back end of the clearing on either side of her. Kennedy gave an inquisitive look around her, something about the scene undisclosed. Then it hit her. All of the carvings and drawings were facing the altar, as if to watch the ceremony.

There were also four torches to add to the moonlight. Two were behind the altar, all the way against the towering rock side. The others were against the clearing sides about half way back. The lit torches sent wisps of light flickering up the sheer rock surfaces, only to be thrust back down by waiting tree limbs and foliage.

A shimmer then caught Kennedy's attention. She followed the moonlight to the twinkling speck and discovered it was a stone – a gem. Upon closer examination of her surroundings, the slayer realized there were gemstones everywhere. She had always had a fascination with gems, the fact that they existed for millions of years in the same form. It intrigued her how they developed, how they came into their brilliance over the course of millennia. Looking around, she saw an abundance of quartz, in many varieties. There was rock crystal quartz, the clear kind most people recognize, of the prismatic variety, one of the most common shapes-pencil like elongated crystals. The type seen in many movies and shows where mystical spells and dwellings are featured. There was amethyst, a purple variety of quartz. Kennedy also saw what she was almost certain was sodalite. This wasn't a quartz, but a gem in the silicates group. The type in her view was of a very deep blue.

The brunette enjoyed stones for their color, shape and enduring quality. But her watcher had also told her of their mystical connection. Though she took the information lightly, she did remember quartz was supposed to signify awareness and cleansing. Amethyst connected the spiritual world to the physical. She didn't remember that sodalite protected those on journeys. Glancing around the clearing now, Kennedy suspected the carvings and drawings were also amplifications of aids to the ceremony in which she would soon find herself in the center.

The gemstones too were not scattered in a random fashion; they were all about, but in patches of some undecipherable pattern. Stones were on the altar, larger ones around its base. They adorned the pit like a sparkling necklace and were in the crevasses of the large outer rocks. When viewed as a whole, instead of individually placed items, the gems gave the impression of sweeping wings…up to the heavens. The moonlight danced off the stones. Kennedy was struck by the beauty of the effect.

As beautiful a scene as it was, the brunette knew it was not put there by nature. Everything had been precisely placed in their present home. That's when Kennedy noticed the people…lots of them. There were people walking about, not milling around, but engrossed in their mission – setting up the ritual site. Some were concerned with the carvings and pole drawings, others the pit, placing logs in it and starting a fire. No one spoke; no one acknowledged her or each other. They just kept busy, like worker bees.

What next captured the brunette's attention were the garments worn by those she saw. They were long flowing white gowns adorned with intricate needlepoint work around the collar, sleeve ends and down the front. It was a brilliant crisscross design of bright purples, blues, reds and greens. They were festive colors, calling out for celebration. The design was outlined in gold thread that shimmered when the people walked.

Kennedy felt a hand on her shoulder, that of the old woman. The brunette couldn't judge how long she'd been distracted in her voyage of the sights around her. The old woman was leading Kennedy to the front of the clearing, to the altar area. Following, the slayer instantly noticed the old woman too had on a white gown. She didn't recall the woman leaving her side, nor did she recall the man leaving but he had. Looking at the old woman now, Kennedy could not remember what she wore before. Was it a dress? Slacks? The brunette pondered how the woman had changed into her present garb. It was just another indication of the power of magick she told herself, knowing also it was a power she would never have the opportunity to try to comprehend.

The white robe and the light from the moon and torches exposed to Kennedy just how ancient the old woman appeared to be. The headlights from the car only gave a muted, distorted glimpse of the woman. But now, Kennedy could see the wrinkled skin, haggard lines etched in her face, yellowing eyes and frost like hair. Her skin was a muted contrast to the white of the garment she wore. To Kennedy, she looked like a ghost disguised as a human being.

Finally approaching the altar area, the old woman motioned Kennedy to sit on the ground, against the rock formation to the right side and slightly behind the altar. She obeyed. From nowhere in particular, another of the old woman's clan came and walked up to the slayer. He held out a chain, shackles for her arms and legs. The old woman looked at her apologetically.

"I won't run away." The words were in English, Kennedy no longer needing language as a disguise.

The old woman just stared at her, a slight squint to her eyes, telling the brunette she believed her, but that this was the ritual, the way, that had to be observed. Kennedy surmised this was not the first occurrence of the ritual involving a being, though whether it was human or demon she didn't know. Her eyes went to the altar then to the stranger in front of her. She held out her arms. The brunette's wrists and ankles were encased in steel cuffs, the pieces making a defiant clanking sound as the locking mechanism engaged. The chains, to which the cuffs were attached, were then locked to steel loops jutting out from the rock side. Kennedy was chained like a rabid dog. The old woman and the other started to leave.

Kennedy said assuring, "I won't try to escape."

The old woman stopped, and without turning around said, "I know…you are strong of spirit and heart." She started to hobble away.

Kennedy couldn't believe her ears. There was no mother tongue, no cryptic ancient language…just plain English. The brunette knew this meant she really was at the end. Dropping the guise was only practical if there would be no reason to fear exposure. The slayer strangely felt more at ease knowing that she would not have to struggle with words, at least not with the old woman. Any final communications would be completely out in the open. "Thank you." There was genuine gratitude in her tone to the old woman for this simple yet important gesture.

Brown eyes glanced around; there was more activity, more people. Kennedy sensed that the commencement of the ritual was nearing. Her heart began to race, breathing became slightly ragged. She shifted on the ground, trying anything to divert her mind from the unknown events unfolding.

The old woman hadn't drifted far. She was overseeing the preliminaries of the sacred obligation. But the clan was well rehearsed, actions learned from generations of clansmen doing the same. It was in their DNA, instinctive as a newborn sea turtle's run to the ocean. Kennedy's nervousness caught the attention of the old woman and she went to the girl.

"It won't be long…" she said. Kennedy smiled sadly, the old woman knowing her response brought relief and tension – it meant life for the girl's witch through death of her own body.

"Why do you die for this witch?" It was a simple question.

"Because I love her." A simple reply. The old woman examined the brunette before her and started questioning like an interrogator.

"Many love…but few would die for that love…why, for this witch?"

Kennedy didn't even need to think about the answer, "The world needs Willow. She's an amazing person."

"Many are that."

"She's also a very powerful witch…one of the most powerful…she'll do so much good in the world."

"Is not the same true of you, slayer…will you not do good?" The old woman probed.

"I'm just a slayer. There're lots of us now…the world can do without one more." Kennedy was staring at the old woman now wondering why she wouldn't leave the matter be, why she insisted that Kennedy justify her actions.

"Then why did you not let the other know of your plan…was she not also a slayer…should not she have been able to choose?"

"Buffy was 'The Slayer'…she was the only one for so many years…she's a leader. She needs to help the others…teach them." The brunette's eyes held back something, of that the old woman was certain.

"There is more with this slayer-" It was more of a directive for additional detail than a question.

Kennedy hesitated. "She's Willow's best friend…Buffy died a couple years ago. Willow brought her back…but s-she told me how devastated she was when Buffy was gone…I couldn't…couldn't let her go through that again…" Kennedy strained to go on, "She's lost too many close to her."

The old woman drew closer to Kennedy; the slayer could feel her breath in the night air. Softly, "But what of your death…will not the witch feel devastation?"

The reply was flat and quiet, "No..." Kennedy turned her head to the side, away from the yellowing eyes searing into her.

The old woman gazed down from above that small creature, the girl who would sacrifice herself for another – for selfless love. There would be no medals, no parade, no congratulatory pat on the back when her deed was done. There would be nothing of her, her memory only continued in the heartbeat of her witch. The old woman had never seen such an act of complete altruism in all her time. It resonated to her soul. She laid her hand upon Kennedy's head, to soothe her.

"I feel you are wrong about the witch."

"I'm…I'm not…but it wouldn't change anything…this is the only way she lives…" she sighed in resignation. The old woman marveled at the courage from this being who was barely a woman, from one so light in years but so rich in compassion. There were times when even the old woman could not understand or accept the way of the Mystery; this proved to be one of them.

"You are a true slayer, you're bravery will not go unnoticed." She took her hand from Kennedy, leaned forward and kissed her head where the old hand had been. Kennedy's demeanor lightened slightly, thankful to the old woman for her concern and acknowledgment. He brunette was then left alone, the old woman retreating to the other side of the site to oversee final preparations. Kennedy pushed away the cold night air; she brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her as best she could. The slayer let her mind wander.

It went straight to Willow. She remembered all the little things that made her fall in love with the redhead – the first time she saw Willow and lost her breath at her beauty; the Willow babble that she could listen to continuously like a favorite song. She remembered their late night talks and holding hands under the dining room table during meals. She could smell the scent of Willow's hair just fresh from a shower and could hear her adorable laugh to one of the brunette's humorous remarks. Brown eyes then watched imaginary memories of all the things she would never get to share with Willow; places they would never go. She pondered on the fact that she would never touch her beautiful redhead again – her lips, her hair, her skin. This brought Kennedy back to their first night together, before the ill-fated mission with Faith in the tunnel. She would never let Willow know but she was scared that night. Scared of the impending undertaking, of dying…of being without the redhead.

'I tried to play it so cool-' her memories came flooding back to her. 'Make it seem like just any typical night…me in total control…yeah, right…' she laughed slightly under her breath, '…except it was going to be our first night…that changed everything.' She was fine, feeling confident and in command, until the redhead exposed her fear of letting go. The brunette could almost taste the doubt in Willow's voice. Kennedy's desire for a night of sexual fulfillment took a quick diversion. Her concern became easing her witch's fears, enveloping her in a safe house for her pleasure. "I'll be your kite string…" The words were as true now as they were when they were first uttered. She smiled remembering Willow finally taking the leap and giving in to the pleasure, to her.

The redhead was beneath the potential, reacting to every touch from the brunette. Kennedy took her time. The witch's body had been ignored for a year and the brunette wanted to prolong the experience, allow Willow to feel every inch of her strain with heightened sensation. Kennedy's hands worked skillfully, searching out soft alabaster skin, grazing fingers up her arm and slowly down her side. Touching yearning skin hidden beneath the redhead's thin night shirt. The brunette's caresses brought shivers to the woman writhing beneath her. Kennedy's lips and tongue worked their own version of magick on Willow's inviting neck and down her sensitive freckled shoulder. The witch tasted like a sweet lover's poem. The redhead's passion was increasing her own. The brunette started to ache from the want. Kennedy placed her leg in between Willow's and began a slow rhythmic onslaught to the redhead's center. The more she rocked and pressed, the more the witch arched and pushed for more contact. Willow raised her arms above her, grabbing the pillows and closing her eyes, giving into the experience. And then the moans began, slight at first, as if the redhead was trying to stifle them in embarrassment. Then they grew in intensity. Kennedy's own pleasure in hearing the girl put herself near the edge. She was having the most incredible night of her life. Then motion and sounds stopped.

Brown eyes instantly found green…they were welling up. The brunette initially thought fear had returned to the witch and shattered her new found trust and confidence. But she kept eyes locked on those of green and soon realized the infant tears were ones of…joy. Kennedy had never experienced such a quietly profound moment in her entire life. She realized she held a part of the redhead's transformation in her hands, her kiss. At that moment, the night no longer was about the brunette or her wants; it was all about Willow, it was all for her. Her true understanding of the fragile nature of the creature she held shook Kennedy to the core. She kept her gaze on beautiful green eyes, and began to tremble. Not from the desire coursing through her body, but from the need to make everything perfect for Willow. To make love to her so that the redhead knew she had nothing to fear from the world or her. She trembled because she realized for the first time that she was deeply and completely in love with the woman. In getting Willow to let go, Kennedy had fallen off the mountain side…and it felt wonderful and terrifying all at once.

The brunette spent the most astounding night of her life concerned only in giving…and in return Willow gave her pleasure she had never experienced. The two spent the night in passion. Tongues searched and caressed. Mouths engaged in slow, deep intimate kisses. Kennedy's lips then devoured hard, erect peaks while Willow's hands massaged the firm breasts and supple thighs of her brunette. Kennedy's fingers roamed, finding sanctuary inside the redhead's heated, wet center. Willow's body danced to the rhythm set by the ministrations of those fingers that stroked and touched as if not for the first time. Muscles recoiled, breath turned ragged; the pulsating sensation running through the witch's veins, up her spine. Life surged through the redhead. Willow couldn't hold back; she needed to feel the brunette, to make her wear the same indescribable shroud of sensation. Hands made their way to Kennedy's most private of places, and rubbed and explored. Her reward was the unapologetic moans and slow approving movements from the brunette. In ragged, soft gasps she murmured, "Oh, God …Willow…what are you doing to me?" The brunette's plea was as much one of exalting divine pleasure at the redhead's touch as it was of the complete submission that Kennedy had willingly given to the witch. The women climbed to the pinnacle of sensation together, and dove over the edge, holding on to each other, mouths engaged in a sound muffling kiss, riding out the spasms, the wave after wave of pure rapture…until they reached earth again. The night was an almost spiritual awakening. Kennedy knew she would never be the same.

Sitting now in the clearing, Kennedy realized that she was not really losing Willow. She would keep the memories of her time with her redhead. They would be with her no matter what her end. Willow was a part of her, in her blood, a part of her soul. She would never lose that. Foregoing her destiny as a slayer was a small price to pay for her time with the witch. 'If it wasn't for you, Willow, I never woulda been a slayer at all…at least I got a taste.' The life of being the warrior, of saving the innocent was not hers to live. The more she thought though, the clearer it became to her. This was her destiny. She did help save the world…by saving Willow. In the future, when her witch protected the downtrodden or fought evil, she'd be there fighting too, as a warm memory of one who had loved the redhead. Kennedy had come full circle in the examination of her life. She was at peace with who she was and the kind of person she had tried to be.

She was startled by the sound of beating sticks all around and shuffling footsteps in front of her. It was the old woman.

"It's time…the journey begins."

Chapter Twenty-One – Balance Regained

"Fuck!"

Faith checked the red numbers glowing from the car's radio clock – 12:01. "Fuck…that midnight bewitching hour stuff better be a load of shit." She mumbled to herself.

After getting directions from Buffy, Faith raced to the waiting Altima and started out the parking lot. She didn't notice the confused look on the night manager as he watched his beloved car leave yet again. She quickly made it to the nearest gas station, filled up and was on her way.

Had this been any other situation, the ex-rogue slayer would have taken extreme care with her drive on the public highways. She knew she was an escaped felon and was certain there were APBs out for her arrest. She imagined her prison photo plastered in every police station and in every cop car the entire length of the pacific coast highway. But this night, keeping a low profile had been put out with the trash. Faith needed to get to La Founita and she needed to get there fast.

So she sailed down the highway, weaving through traffic, passing cars like they were standing still. She never flinched in her speed; her quest her primary motivation. She hoped she didn't become the target of an overzealous police officer searching for that last ticket to make quota. She didn't want to get involved with the law; didn't want to have to leave an unconscious cop behind safely tucked in his vehicle as she returned to her flight. She didn't want to…but she would. She kept driving.

Faith finally made her way into La Founita, reigning in her Indy 500 driving style for something more 'Driving Miss Daisy.' The dark haired slayer didn't come this far to be stifled by local suspicions. She drove, at the posted speed limit, down the main street, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, looking for the street sign. When she was convinced that she had missed it, it came into her view – 'Willow Lane.'

"I'm getting close…" She could feel her blood race and heartbeat quicken. All she could think of was retrieving her fellow slayer…her fellow fallen slayer. "I'll get ya kid." The Altima turned and drove into the unknown.

Aguilo was nervous, edgy. He was conflicted. As the anointed in his clan, chief of 'the way', the man had presided and performed numerous rituals banishing the unwanted or lost to their proper place in the dimensional plane. Truthfully, he had not experienced as many as those anointed before him; he hadn't been through even as many as the old woman. But, as far as preparation, Aguilo knew he stood on solid ground. His internal struggle laid with the subject for the journey – that beautiful young slayer. He had never had a mortal, nevertheless a young girl, the focus of the transfer. His head told him it was of no consequence; his position as the Anointed demanded that it was of no concern. The balance had to be made right; the means were of no matter to the end.

But as a man, Aguilo felt dread and shame for having to take a human life. His heart shouted that this death, this transfer, would mark him for life, make him less of a human being. Could he take this life? Could he watch as life emptied from the girl's sparkling brown eyes?

Aguilo forcefully shook his head, breaking him out of his internal battle. He stood in a small enclave near the altar, hidden from the clearing. The place for him to adorn himself with his ceremonial robe and accessories. He was in the final stages of his own preparations and could not afford reflection at this time. He had no choice; there was no other way. This was the burden carried by his people for generations. This was not the first time a life had been taken he told himself. 'Others before me have made the sacrifice, lived with death in the soul, so shall I." The man realized to carry out his sacred obligation he would have to shed his mask that was Aguilo. He was only the Anointed now, ferry master for the Great Mystery, a foot soldier in its never ending wage for equilibrium.

And so he became the Anointed, leader of the Truxdeiro, holders of 'the way'. When he was satisfied that all garb was properly situated and necessary ritual objects securely placed, the Anointed left the enclave and presented himself to his people ready in the consecrated site, ready for their lives' calling. Looking at the crowd, he raised his arms to the sky, looked upward and then lowered his arms down and out from his side as if in crucifixion. The Anointed heard the rhythmic thumping of hollowed sticks beckoning the start of the ceremony, summoning the beginning of the end.

As the Truxdeiro readied for the ritual of the journey, in a tiny motel room, the band of Scoobies also prepared, unknown to them the intricacy of the dual events. They transformed the room into a holy site, the springboard for the earthly resurrection of their much loved witch. The work was not done with light of heart for with each step they took, they understood it was one step closer to the death of their brunette slayer. But they went on with their mission. Xander had the job of obtaining seven candles which turned out to be more perplexing than he would have anticipated. The room had no candles and the front office only had two. "We use flashlights if the power goes off," said the night manager. Xander had to obtain the rest of the candles needed from the nearby restaurant. He sweet talked a waitress into giving him five tealight candles. He hoped they were large enough to last. No one knew how long the spell would take, although they all secretly understood it was tied to Kennedy's life ending. None of the Scoobies talked, they were too saddened by the way their redhead would be made well, heartbroken that their new slayer, their would-be friend, would never see the fruits of her selflessness.

Candles were finally positioned and lit around the still unconscious witch. Giles moved the bed away from the wall so that the candles could be placed on the floor encircling Willow. For the staff, Buffy used the shower rod. She, at first, thought to use the curtain rod, but then reconsidered. She was unsure what the spell would bring or do to Willow or the others in the room. It was decided the curtains would need to be closed, keeping from the world outside their walls all evidence of the mystical proceedings that were sure to happen.

Xander had previously told Dawn about the turn of events and the upcoming spell. She too was shocked and saddened. She rebuked herself for ever thinking bad of the brunette, questioning her closeness with Willow, disliking her because she wasn't Tara. Dawn then informed the others of the impending future for their sister slayer. Even those that didn't know Kennedy well felt dejected. As if pulled by some invisible thread, all of them, including Dawn and Andrew, eventually made their way to the motel room, gathering outside, waiting for some word of the deed done. They stood like the faithful waiting for the plume of white smoke to emerge from the holy Vatican's chimney signifying a new reign.

When all was in place and they knew they could stall no longer, Buffy went to the side of the bed and held the staff over Willow's limp body. Xander sat in the chair by the window, too depleted and too soured on the mission to watch. He wanted his long time friend back, to be sure, but again he pondered at what price success would cost. Giles went to the bed, on the other side of Buffy, he looked at Xander. It would be his job to direct Giles to speak the words of the spell, his job to keep track of the heartbeats, which he knew included Kennedy's at her far away place. He waited for the clock's numbers to turn-

…12:21:58…12:21:59…12:22:00…

"Say it, Giles." Xander felt like he had just signed Kennedy's death warrant.

Giles began. "Muerte para la vida y…."

With the start of the ceremony, the old woman went to Kennedy. As the brunette looked up, the woman plainly said, "it's time…the journey begins." She held out her hand to the slayer, who took it and stood up. From behind the old woman stepped the man who had placed Kennedy in her shackles. He moved in and unchained her, then left the two women. There they stood, listening to the pounding sticks. To Kennedy they sounded like the rich, deep muted sound from a wooden wind chime. She took in the scene. She couldn't count the number of people; she didn't know how they got there, but there were dozens, if not hundreds. They were all adorned in the stunning white gowns with their brilliant trimmings. The clearing was transformed into some magickal place only found in the greatest of fairytales. The moonlight, fire and gemstones hurled strands and flickers of colorful light around within the enclosure. Had it not been for the fact that this spectacle was brought about for Kennedy's death, the young slayer would have thought it the most wonderful sight she had ever beheld.

Kennedy was brought out of her thoughts when the old woman took her arm and led her to the altar. Kennedy showed no fear, her eyes fixed straight ahead of her. The old woman thought she was looking at something, then realized the slayer was gazing at nothing in particular, just seeing through all worldly things to keep her mind focused away from her impending end. 'How can this be…' questioned the old woman. She was amazed at the continued bravery of the young slayer. Kennedy never flinched, never hesitated as she was directed by the old woman to lie down on the altar. Tears started to form in the old woman's failing eyes. She felt this was wrong. Even if freely given, this slayer's life was worthy of continuing in this world, this dimension. It was the first time the old woman questioned her people's calling, the first time she wanted no part of it. She bent over Kennedy, their faces so intimately close they could hear each other's heartbeat. "I'm sorry…you deserve to live…" – the words said as a confession of the guilty, said through a cracked voice fighting back tears. Kennedy closed her eyes.

Aguilo walked to the altar, stood directly behind it and motioned the old woman to stand by his side, near the head of the altar, where Kennedy laid, eyes now open. Brown eyes looked upon the man – 'He could be anyone's father or son,' she thought. 'He looks so average…like he wouldn't hurt a fly.' The slayer lost her breath when she saw the man take out a large dagger from the cinch around his robe.

'It's your choice…" Willow swirled Tara's comment around in her head. Was she really able to make a choice, to see a future other than the pain she held right now? She gazed into Tara's eyes and delved deep into her own inner most emotion…her need. Then it came to her. It engulfed her in strong arms and held her in total love. As she continued to stare, blue eyes turned to brown. The redhead smiled. "You've made your choice…"

Before Willow could respond, she was pulled from her dream state and plunged back to her unconscious self, in the motel room. She was in a coma like state, unable to communicate but somehow able to hear muffled sounds around her. 'Kennedy's found the answer,' she told herself, 'I'm waiting for you, baby…I'm still here.' Willow's resolve and essence were already regaining strength.

The Anointed presented the ageless, precision-sharp steel dagger in hands outstretched before his clan, a ritualistic request for affirmation. The dagger was as old as time and had been witness to many transfers. Its blade was long and married to the wooden handle etched with ancient markings. It was held up for all his people to see. The clan responded by a quickened tempo of their colliding sticks. The Anointed then brought the dagger down and placed it at Kennedy's feet. Bowing his head, he began to chant.

Kennedy tried to keep her head still, only looking up to the heavens, but she was too curious. She turned her head to the left, to view the ceremonial happenings in the clearing. The fire was roaring; the clansmen were pounding their rhythm sticks in unison. Some were moving around the pit in a dance-like march chanting like the man at the altar, while the others were all gathered behind the pit as if held back by an invisible rope. Kennedy didn't try to decipher the cryptic words of the anointed; they were of no consequence to her. She merely hoped that at that very instant Buffy or another was saying the words that would bring her witch back to this world. The chanting and pounding continued.

Then Kennedy started to feel it. The slow seeping of her strength, her power, from her. Her essence was being pulled from her soul. The longer the chanting proceeded, the weaker she felt. She would not fight the coming of her death; she gave of herself completely, giving godspeed to her witch. It would not be much longer, she knew. She closed her eyes and let her mind meander, taking her where it willed in these last few moments. She saw her father and baby sister and was sad for all the things that should have been. She saw her mother and felt heartbreak for all the things that could have been.