Alterations With Time by LilBit

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.
Author's Notes: Post-BTVS – This story is a continuation of 'The Sacrifice' – reading that story first is recommended.
Pairing: Willow/Kennedy

Summary: Can Willow and Kennedy handle all that life and evil have to throw at them?

The room was as white as the first snow of winter; the only traitor to the tiled walls' existence was small grey grout lines. The room itself was not overly large, about a twenty feet long on each side. But it was inhabited with the latest of medical technology. The machines all glistened in their stainless steel skins. Monitors chirped and gave visual readings in the most up-to-date multicolor images. The storage cabinets for all necessary surgical supplies had been dutifully stocked. The overhead lights were already positioned as were the anesthesiologist's implements of trade and the crash cart, just in case. The surgical tray was lined with sterile blue cloth and the surgical knives, clamps and spreaders were lined up like dutiful soldiers, waiting to be called into battle.

The one overwhelming feature to the entire experience was the smell; it was the unmistakable aroma of bleach, the mainstay of antiseptic surety for any place of healing. The room was devoid of all unwanted microorganism, virus or bacteria. It was whistle clean. The exact conditions needed for an operation.

The operating room though was not devoid of life; there was soft, relaxing music drifting down from the two speakers at the ceiling line in the front corners of the room. It was the type of music conducive to concentrated thought and finely intricate hand skills. The sound was background for the people in the room, the professionals who attended to life and death matters everyday. The nurses, four in total, finished their preparation of the items needed for the upcoming mission. The anesthesiologist had already performed his initial duty, and was now monitoring heart rate, respiration and blood pressure. The surgeon and her assistant were standing on opposite sides of each other, on either side of the unconscious patient who lay on the surgical table. All of the surgical personnel wore the familiar green hospital garb, the kind known by anyone who's ever watched a medical tv show for more than five minutes. Their uniforms also warded off anything infectious. They wore paper booties over their shoes, their mouths and noses covered in masks, hiding their identities like old wild west train robbers. Hands were scrubbed perfectly clean and encased within sterile surgical gloves.

The one person who was not party to the precision of movement conducted by the medical personnel was the woman on the surgical table, the focal for the operating team. The young woman lay there, intubated, a plastic tube within her wind pipe, a machine forcing air in and out of her lungs. She was covered in a sheet from her pelvic bone down to her feet which were also covered with booties. There was another sheet covering her from several inches above her navel to her shoulders. In the space revealed, basically her entire mid section, four blue surgical cloths had been placed on her-one on each side, leaving a rectangular 'surgical field' of approximately six inches by fourteen inches. The exposed skin was orange in color from the betadine that had been scoured there to remove all things unclean. Within that boundried area, on and in the flesh of the woman, was a gash. It was a deep penetrating slicing wound that went almost the entire length of the surgical field and, on the right side of the woman, was so deep as to impinge on her spine.

Had the woman on whose flesh the injury inhabited been awake, she still wouldn't have had a view of the rather upsetting spectacle. For just above the woman's shoulders there was a sheet that stretched perpendicular to the table covering its entire width and separating her head and neck from view of the rest of her body. Her arms were slightly outstretched, taped down to side ports of the table. There were IVs running into both arms, the veins on the back of each hand the temporary home to precisely placed needles. Bags of several sizes and varieties hung from metal poles to her side, pumps making a rhythmically timed 'thump…thump' noise as vital medicines dripped into the IV lines that snaked there way to the needles which were the gateway to the woman's circulatory system. Everything coming out of or into the woman was taped down to the beautiful skin of the patient. Nothing was left exposed. Her luxurious hair was bonneted. To the surgical staff, she was just another person in need of immediate medical attention, another where a successful outcome could not be predicted, or even assumed.

"I can't believe she's still alive…" was the only comment made by the chief surgeon before she began to play god as she had done so many times before. The surgeon held out her hand for the scalpel. One would have thought the drama took place in the good ol' US of A if it hadn't been for the fact that the comment was in Portuguese, the national language in Sao Paulo, Brazil.

The Universidade Federal de Sao Paulo-Hospital had five surgical rooms, only one of which at the moment held a life in the balance. That room was at the farthest end of the surgical wing. Outside its entry, down the long corridor meant to keep worried loved ones away, through a set of self-closing doors and to the third room on the left was the surgical waiting room. It was a small space with no windows, decorated with light pastels of cream, sage and rose; as if the warm light colors were meant to uplift the frightened spirits of anyone unlucky enough to be shipwrecked in that room. There were a dozen chairs, all likewise dressed in warm neutral tones, soft and cushy, to make the frantic wait at least easier on the posture. The chairs were lined four against each wall to the left and right of the entrance and four in the middle of the room, two each back to back as if waiting for a game of musical chairs to begin. There was a television on a stand against the wall opposite the door way, one that had seen very little use from the visitors to the room, their minds always on the well being of their loved ones and not the latest development on some cheesy soap opera.

On that warm, breezy evening, while the rest of Sao Paulo went about their cosmopolitan lives, while the rest of the world tended to their strife, a solitary woman sat in that room frightened and struggling to hold on to her emotions. She wore a simple white, long sleeve peasant blouse, blue jeans and white sneakers, the sure sign of someone from the USA. She sat in one of the chairs on the wall to the right of the doorway, so she could see, at the earliest possible moment, any hospital staff heading to the room, but also out of the direct line of other foot traffic so as not to offer as a spectacle her emotional state. The woman sat with her legs close together and her arms wrapped around her waist; she was unconsciously nervously rocking back and forth. Her head was lowered, as if in prayer. And she was in request, but not such as formally done in a house of worship. The young woman sought the reason for the present tragedy, the answer to a destiny that led yet again to a hospital's front door.

'She has to be ok…she has to pull through…' A mind searched for a vision of a future without the woman on the surgical table, and could not find one. Their lives' paths had been fused by near heartbreak almost one year ago.

'Things were looking so good again…I didn't think I could be this happy…' A thought came creeping into her brain, 'Maybe I don't get to stay happy…I'll keep losing…' The ghost of that thought trickled away, the conclusion to biting to contemplate at the present.

The rocking stopped and the woman stood up, walking to her left to the corner of the room, away from all strange and unwanted eyes. She pressed herself into the corner facing it, hands to her face and quietly cried. The few minutes of tears seemed to take hours. The short time she had been in that room had seemed like days.

Through the tears came a soft plea, "Please Kenn, don't die…I need you to live…I need you…" The words trailed off as the crying surged again.

Willow had been told of Kennedy's grave condition soon after her frantic arrival at the hospital's emergency room and frenzied requests of the whereabouts of her girlfriend. It was her good fortune that English was spoken by most in her temporary home of Sao Paulo. She was immediately and compassionately helped by one of the ER nurses. The redhead was taken to the room where she now waited without a clear understanding of her slayer's injuries, only the fact that the brunette was in critical condition upon her arrival into the emergency room, not forty minutes earlier, and had been rushed to surgery.

Willow steadied her emotions, ceased her tears and took a deep breath. She turned around and leaned into the corner, wiping the tear streaks from her face. She thought back to everything she and her beautiful slayer had been through in the last year, since the fated events with the Truxdeiro, all the immeasurable joy, the strangling fear and pain. Their challenges both before their arrival in Brazil and in the ten months since loomed in her mind. Everything that came at them, they ultimately handled together; they conquered together. Each never lost faith in the other, even if they took turns losing faith in themselves. They had been on a roller coaster of life's new experiences, new challenges, and Willow thought they had made the last turn and were heading for the exit platform. But, as the life of a witch and slayer would have it, the ride was not over yet. Willow could feel the jerk of the clawed track grabbing at their life's car, sending them into the wild ride again.

Green eyes closed and Willow's mind searched for her slayer, waiting to sense her life force. The search didn't take long; the witch felt the warm aura of her Kennedy. To her dismay, but not complete shock, she did not feel the overpowering strength that was always there when she 'sensed' the girl. Willow instantly knew her lover was in life-threatening condition.

In a frail whisper, "I can't lose you, baby…we've been through so much…" After a moment of inner reflection, the witch's voice became sure with resolve, "…I won't lose you…."

After the implosion of Sunnydale and Kennedy's 'adventure' with the Truxdeiro to save Willow from death, the band of slayers and what-nots made their way, in a recently purchased used minibus, to Los Angeles to seek assistance from Angel and crew. The souled vampire and his team of demon fighters were no longer housed in the 1920's Hollywood hotel. They were now the managing partners of the LA branch of Wolfram & Hart, Attorneys-at-Law. Each, except for Angel, had apartments off premises. However, the vampire quickly made accommodations for his fellow fighters of good and righteousness. They were all given rooms at an exquisite hotel nearby the law firm. "Stay as long as you need, and don't worry about the cost…it's on me."

As with before, new slayers teamed up in twos to share a room. Buffy and Dawn were roomies as were Xander and Andrew, the Scooby had actually begun to be able to tolerate the nerdy ex-villian. Giles and Wood each had their own room, which left Faith odd girl out, much to her liking. She was still, at heart, a loner and the solitary fit her disposition; although she had planned some nocturnal visits to the still healing principal. Faith didn't know how to describe what she had with Robin. He was not a one night stand, more than an acquaintance, but not a boyfriend. She decided not to label it, being content that something tangible existed at all. That left living arrangements for Willow and Kennedy.

Despite their mutual declaration of love, and the physical expression of those sentiments which took the form of twenty-four straight hours spent in their Deering Motor Inn motel room, Kennedy didn't want to assume that she and Willow would automatically share a room. Not that she didn't want that; being with the redhead was all that the brunette desired. She wanted Willow to be the last thing her eyes saw when they closed at night and the first thing when they reopened to a brand new day. Kennedy had been on her own emotionally, and essentially by herself, long enough; she longed for that feeling of togetherness.

However, she was aware of Willow's past arrangements. Her redhead had always lived with someone. She went from home, to college rooming with Buffy, to basically spending every night with Tara. After Buffy's 'death', she lived with Dawn and Tara, then also Buffy after the slayer's resurrection. Even after Tara's death, she still lived with Buffy and Dawn. Then, of course, came Kennedy and the rest of the potentials. She began sharing a room and then a bed, if only to sleep, with Kennedy almost immediately. The brunette knew that the time dealing with the First Evil had been nerve-wracking and extremely stressful for all. She didn't know how Willow would want to proceed once the pressure was off and she was able to relax and resume a normal life, as normal as possible given the nature of who they were.

So, Kennedy didn't push, as much as she wanted to just sweep Willow off her feet and carry her to 'their' room. She held back and waited for her redhead to decide on their sleeping arrangements. She was pleasantly rewarded.

"Where's me and Kenn's room?" Willow questioned Giles as he handed out room cards. Kennedy's dilemma was resolved.

As the doors to the elevator closed, Willow pushed the button for their third floor hotel room. Kennedy held Willow's hand. "You ok with sharing a room, Will?…I mean, if you want…or need some space, I'll understand."

Kennedy felt the redhead squeeze back. "Don't need space…just you." The slayer smiled.

"Besides, how we gonna get into some serious girl action if we have to run back and forth to each other's room?" Willow stared straight ahead when she made the comment, her face as red as her hair. Kennedy was pleasingly shocked.

"Why Ms. Rosenberg…I didn't realize you were so lusty." Kennedy moved in front of her witch, facing her and, leaning her against the back wall of the elevator, moved in for a passionate kiss, embracing the redhead as their lips met. The kiss was filled with feral desire. Their spontaneous fervent moment was cut short when the elevator doors opened at their floor. The two women broke their kiss and stared into each other's eyes as they tried to subdue their base sexual cravings.

"Yeah…right now," Willow replied as she grabbed Kennedy's hand and whisked her out of the elevator and quickly down the hallway.

Later that evening, there was a meeting in Giles' room. All were present and the topic of discussion was 'What do we do now?' While at the previous motel in Santa Bruallo, the Englishman was able to make some preliminary inroads to the plan for identifying and contacting the newly 'born' slayers in the world. Giles knew further development on that front would need to wait a while. His first priority was getting all the slayers in his charge back to their families for some serious reuniting and discussions with parents or legal guardians of the status and future of their respective 'little girls.' All the new slayers had made contact with relatives when at the hospital right after the final battle; they made additional phone calls while at the motel. Once again in LA, long distance charges were incurred for further conversations and declarations of good health and imminent return.

Giles had made arrangements for all the girls to go home, wherever home happened to be. It only took a few days for the mass exodus. Some went by bus, others by train; most flew. They were all told to reconnect with their families, enjoy life and wait for further contact from Giles. The watcher knew that the creation of a slayer network, base of operation or common training facility would take several months. After all, the new slayers were still just young girls, teenagers, who had been ripped from their home life for a considerable length of time. He didn't expect parental acquiescence to come quickly or easily, even after disclosure, to whatever extent, of the slayer legacy and obligations. That meant significant down time for the recently empowered. Despite openly frustrated talk by some of the girls of slayer skills going needlessly unused, they all, deep down, were thankful for time away from the fear and fighting and death.

All the new slayers left, being pulled back to the ones they loved and who loved them. All that is except for Kennedy. She felt she had nowhere to go, no reason to go. Willow had watched her girlfriend as Giles told the new slayers of their freedom won during that meeting in his room. While the other girls had expressions of joy and enthused expectation about their pending trips, Kennedy just leaned against a wall and stared at her shoes. The redhead knew that her slayer had not made any calls to her father since the destruction of Sunnydale. During her time at Buffy's before the battle, Willow could think of only one time she did call, and that conversation lasted only a few minutes. The redhead knew that Kennedy had kept in contact with her half sister; she had asked the witch on several occasions if she could use her computer to send emails. Willow felt sorry for her girl, a lost soul amongst her own flesh and blood.

Later that evening, in the privacy of their third floor sanctuary, the redhead broached the subject with the brunette while they both sat on the bed. "Kenn…you were pretty quiet back there…when Giles was saying everyone could go home." Willow didn't know how her girlfriend would react. "Did you wanna go home?" She examined her girl for some clue of her emotional state.

"You're my home." The words were soft and heart felt. Kennedy kept looking straight ahead, but Willow felt her tanned hand placed gently upon her own. She could sense discord in her slayer, another attempt by Kennedy to take on her troubles alone, to save Willow from sharing in the pain. Willow decided she would have no part of that. She brought their united hands to her lips and sweetly kissed the back of her lover's. Brown eyes turned to her.

"Kenne…please talk to me. I know this is bothering you…Don't you miss your dad…your little sister?" The last refrain brought sadness to the brunette's face.

"Of course I miss her…" Kennedy struggled to share her turmoil with the redhead; letting her in made Kennedy feel like she had failed in some way, that she couldn't handle the situation. But she knew she had to share the ugly with her witch in order to reap the good. So she tried, stumbling over her thoughts like a drunk.

"I would like to see Emma…but I don't know if he wants me to come home…if it even makes a difference to him."

"Why would you say that? Of course he'd want to see you, he's your father." Willow couldn't fathom the tone of reservation she heard in her brunette's voice. She also couldn't imagine any scenario where her own father would be so apathetic; she found it hard to believe that Kennedy's father could be that way, that any father could.

"Father's just a word, Will…and it sounds like yours is a whole lot different than mine." The sadness returned. The witch was confused and slightly worried about what her brunette was hiding from her, so she pressed her girl for more detail.

Kennedy gazed into green eyes; she had never wanted to open up to anyone before, never felt like exposing her family's dysfunction, her own pathetic drama. But with Willow, it felt alright; she wouldn't be judged or thought a failure. Willow would help her sort out her life, make sense of it. So she started.

"He couldn't accept who I was…in so many ways…" Kennedy let the gates open, and the past and truth came rushing out. She told Willow that her father had never really bought into the whole 'potential' thing. He believed in spirits and such, but could not bring himself to think that one day his daughter could be 'the slayer', the one girl in all the world, fighting vampires. That was too much of a stretch of the imagination for the level headed man. Kennedy felt his support in her endeavor was superficial and more of an indulgence to her to a large extent.

"I don't think he really approves of me being gay…" she went on. The brunette recounted her wild days of indiscretion, the partying, the drinking and her car accident. "The only thing that he got upset about…that he showed any emotion for, was my DUI almost making it into the local paper." There was scorn in her voice. She went on to tell Willow how her father never wanted her to bring her girlfriends around, whom he never recognized as anything other than girls who were friends, and never tried to discuss his daughter's social life. At the end of her senior year in high school, as a 'graduation present', Kennedy told her redhead how her father gave her, much to the dismay of her watcher Thomas Sinclair, a summer with friends of the family in Culiamayas, Mexico, a small seaport town near Puerto Vallarta. Kennedy knew it was merely to get her out of the mansion, away from her sister, whom her stepmother was certain the brunette was 'corrupting.'

"So I stayed there all summer, took some side trips and went straight to Columbia University when it was time." Willow intently listened as her girlfriend told her that since her departure for Mexico to the present time-almost two years, she had been back to her home a total of forty-nine days. It intrigued Willow that Kennedy remembered the exact number. She only went home when she had to, for holidays and when campus was closed, and then only if she couldn't talk Sinclair into letting her stay at his place or get invited to spend time at a friend's home. She made short shift of holidays, always feigning some collegiate excuse for a quick visit. The summer after her first year at Columbia, she stayed in the city, living in a small apartment near her watcher, who had moved closer to the University to assure Kennedy's continued slayer training. When she was home, she tried to spend as much time with Emma as possible, without spiking the disapproval of her stepmother. Then she would get that uneasy feeling again, that she wasn't wanted, like a guest who'd stayed too long at a party. And she'd go. She'd kept contact by emails to Emma and the occasional obligatory phone call to her dad, which was always short and always the same.

"I got use to being on my own." She tried to say it like it was true, but Willow could feel the heartache.

"The thing he really can't handle, I can't do anything about…He hates it that I remind him of my mother…" This was the most painful of all her father's betrayals. Kennedy hated the woman for walking out of her life, their lives. Yet, Kennedy's father had withdrawn from her because his daughter reminded the man of the same thing done to him. "He'd even let it slip out every once in a while…it was always when he was mad at me…he'd be yelling and then say 'you're just like your mother'…" This was the first time Willow had ever heard mention of Kennedy's real mother. "When he looks at me, he sees her…and he only wants to forget about her." Dejection was evident in the brunette's voice and posture, like a boxer talking about an upcoming match that was fixed and already lost.

The redhead was at a loss for words. She had no experience in her own life like this from which to draw a response. Though she thought her parents could be distant at times, she always felt and knew they loved her, that they would be there for her if she ever needed it. Willow knew Kennedy was hurting and feeling rejected for the years of distance from her father. She didn't want her slayer to be hurt further, but she had a sense, somewhere deep inside her, that Kennedy's father had also been lost without his daughter for all this time. The witch turned to her slayer, sat cross-legged and gingerly made a suggestion.

"Kenn…it's been a long time…don't you think he's maybe gotten passed that?...Plus, he mustuv heard about Sunnydale…he doesn't even know you're alive…you should call him…at least let him and your sister know you're ok."

Kennedy was silent, looking at her fingers as they softly kneaded at Willow's delicate hand. The witch could tell the brunette was tallying up the pros and cons of her proposal. After further thought, Kennedy decided.

"Ok, I'll call him." Her tone was filled with reserved hesitation. Willow started to lean over to grab the phone next to the bed.

Willow picked up the phone, went back to her sitting position and handed it to the slayer. "As good a time as any," she replied.

"But it's one in the morning there, Will…they're all sleeping." Kennedy wasn't sure she could make the call, now that it was 'zero hour.'

Willow wouldn't let her off the hook, "Baby, you just need to do this…for your sake as much as theirs." Kennedy gave in and started dialing the number.

"Besides…" Willow said as she watched her girlfriend, "…it's been four days since Sunnydale sunk…I bet your dad's waiting by the phone."

"Hello…who is this?" The deep voice was quivering a bit. Kennedy hadn't heard her father's voice in several months, and she hadn't heard it with such worry in years. Kennedy couldn't see that Jackson Prescott was gripping his receiver.

"It's me, Dad," the brunette said apprehensively. As Willow started to get up to leave and give Kennedy privacy, she felt a hand grip her arm. Brown eyes begged her to stay; to be there for whatever the next few minutes would bring. The redhead sat back down, placed her hands softly on her lover's thigh and watched.

"Kennedy, it's you…thank god…I was so worried…I saw on the news…the earthquake and Sunnydale gone…and…and when I didn't hear anything from you…I thought…" The man was quite shaken and his erratic, trembling words did nothing to hide that fact.

"I'm not hurt…I'm fine, dad. I'm in LA, with the people I stayed with in Sunnydale." Kennedy looked at Willow. She wanted to tell her father about her beautiful redhead but knew she had to get there with baby steps.

"You're not hurt…I was so worried…" Jackson Prescott couldn't talk; the anxiety that had had a choke hold on him since the Sunnydale tragedy finally exploded. He was overcome with emotion; he thought he had lost his daughter. Until the moment he heard her voice, he was in hell, thinking of the missed opportunities with her, of his actions to her based on feelings for her mother. He had been chastising himself for having been an inadequate father. He tried to pull himself together, to keep back the crying.

Willow saw brown eyes well up and hers soon followed. "Dad…it's ok now…everything's gonna be ok." Kennedy's words were gentle and reassuring. The redhead knew a daughter was trying to console her father.

"Kenny…please come home." It was a plea. Kennedy hadn't heard her father call her 'Kenny' since she was a little girl, since the good times.

"I've met someone, Dad…her name is Willow Rosenberg. She's my…" Kennedy wanted to say she was her everything, her world, her savior. What came out was "…girlfriend." She glanced at her redhead and gave her a look that apologized for the insult of using such a small word to describe what the woman was to her. "…I'm not gonna live in New York anymore."

Jackson Prescott was surprised by his daughter's revelation, but he didn't care at the moment. "Please Kenn…we can talk about that later…just come back. Your sister misses you…I miss you." He didn't lie.

"If I come home…Willow comes with me." Kennedy refused to put her witch in the shadows of her life. She heard her father breathing on the other end of the line. She waited for his answer to the future of their relationship.

The day after the brunette's call home, Kennedy and Willow made plans to visit West Mahopic, New York; they were to leave in two days and planned on spending three days there. Kennedy needed time to gather her possessions from her father's home. She had initially planned on also stopping by her college apartment. But when she called her father to give him their flight information and their plans, he told her that all her property had been sent to his residence. "You just left, and never came back. They couldn't leave the place unrented." Kennedy decided it would make her job easier and give her more time with Emma.

In addition to being nervous about her trip home, Kennedy was also apprehensive about the next day. Willow's parents were coming to the hotel to see their only child and make sure she was as fine as she kept telling them in her phone calls.

During the time when Giles was getting the newbie slayers back to their homes, the Scoobies were also making familial contacts. Willow made numerous calls to her parents who had already been out of town before the evacuation of Sunnydale. They were in Palo Alto, both there on business. Willow skirted around the events that happened the day Sunnydale disappeared forever, and didn't tell them about her brush with death. "I'm safe and I'm not hurt," was her mantra. Once her parents were satisfied their Willow was not in harm's way, they relaxed. They had become used to their daughter having her own life, with its own priorities. They were thankful that she kept in touch and visited on a rather regular basis. They were proud of the woman that their daughter had become. With the last phone call from their girl, their business having concluded, Willow's parents decided to go see her, to confirm things really were alright. Telephone conversations always being such a whirlwind with her parents, Willow didn't get the chance to tell them about Kennedy.

"Kenn, baby, I'm sorry I didn't tell them…It's just that they start talking and you can't get a word in edgewise…and when you try to change the subject, they just keep on rattling away, like they can't stop themselves, and no matter what…" Willow's tirade was cut off by the brunette's kiss.

"At least I know where you get your babbling from now," she chided. "As long as you don't make me hide in a closet while they're here, it's no big deal."

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?" Willow laughed at her girl's classic choice of words.

While the couple was preparing themselves for 'Meet My Parents' Rosenberg-style, the other Scoobies had also been busy. Xander took a few days to visit his parents who were with his mother's sister in Reno after they evacuated. Buffy and Dawn got in contact with their father and, despite Buffy's inclination to still think of the man as a deadbeat dad, decided to meet with him at his new place in San Francisco. So, off they went too for several days.

Giles kept busy at the hotel contacting remaining council members and covens, putting together a plan for the future of the Watcher's Council and the new slayers. While Giles kept busy with work, Faith and Wood kept busy with, well, each other. The man had healed enough that 'personal contact' was possible, and Faith took full advantage. She had been in prison for far too long and decided she needed to make up for lost time. Wood was happy to help her out. "You sure you can handle this, Robin?" The question was said half in jest, half serious. "Yes Faith…I wouldn't want to hinder your rehabilitation back to being a productive member of society." They spent several days having sex, going out to eat, having more sex, going out to clubs…and sex yet some more. It wasn't love or infatuation, not raw fucking, but some intangible place born out of respect from what they'd been through and a mutual need for physical contact with a connection. For them, at least for the time being, it worked.

The day of Willow's parents' arrival, the two women actually got a late start. The previous day had been spent shopping for clothes, essentials and other basic necessities. It was a great day. They didn't go overboard but Kennedy's credit card bill would definitely be a few pages thicker as a result. The witch felt strange that Kennedy was paying for everything; she felt even stranger that their purchases didn't even phase her girlfriend. Willow began to realize that perhaps she didn't really comprehend how much money Kennedy's family had. At one point, while in a shoe store, Willow tried to get out of Kennedy buying her a pair of classic black leather boots. She was starting to get overwhelmed with the blitzkrieg of their retail consumption. She had never spent so much money on herself, or on anything for that matter, as she was witnessing that day.

"Just take a deep breath, Red…Don't think about the money…We're starting from scratch, here…and we're not getting anything that you didn't already have or need." Kennedy watched her witch until she got a small smile from her. Then the redhead picked up one of the boots and raised an eyebrow, placing emphasis on an expression that said, 'I need expensive black boots?'

"Umm…ok, the boots are for me…I 'need' to see you in them." The comment was followed by a devilish smile.

And that was the cause of the lovers' late start. For that evening, after their packages had been put away and they'd had dinner with Giles in the hotel's restaurant, Kennedy was sitting on the bed, watching tv when Willow came out from the bathroom wearing those new boots…and nothing else.

"So, do you still like the boots?" Kennedy didn't know her witch's voice could be so seductive or her movements so sensual.

The response the redhead got from her girl was not verbal. Kennedy quickly got off the bed and took her in her arms. She began kissing her redhead's neck and mouth as she gracefully picked her up in her arms and led her to the bed. She lay her down, positioning herself above Willow, never stopping the onslaught with her lips that had now worked its way down to the witch's breast.

"Do I take that as a yes?" the witch asked through strained breath. Chocolate eyes seized onto hers.

The witch and the slayer spent the rest of the evening and a considerable amount of the early hours of the next day making love. Willow was still getting used to sex with a slayer. Kennedy's stamina was amazing and there were times when the witch had to stop to catch her breath and compose herself. Even during those moments, Kennedy's hands and mouth didn't retreat; they were on the redhead, caressing, kissing, licking until the witch could rejoin the adventure. And she did; doing her part to bring her slayer to exhaustion. The women were also starting to learn what brought their lover to her knees. It was something they would study to the point of expertise.

The two women didn't get up until eleven. Willow's parents were due at noon. The redhead was frantic.

"Oh…this is so your fault," she said as she ran naked about their room trying to clean it up and get clothes out to put on after her shower.

"And how is this my fault?" Kennedy asked with mock indignation as she watched the tornado that was her girlfriend whip through the room.

"You bought the boots…" was the reply as Kennedy watched the perfect alabaster backside of her witch disappear into the bathroom.

Willow and Kennedy were waiting in the hotel lobby when her parents arrived exactly at noon. She grinned at Kennedy, "They're compulsively on time." The redhead didn't wait for the couple to spot her; she ran over to them as soon as they made it through the revolving door. Kennedy watched and knew she was experiencing a truly genuine family moment. The three Rosenbergs, after a moment of just looking at each other, joined in a quick group hug, then both mother and father took turns kissing their daughter on the cheek. Their faces were beaming with smiles. Kennedy could see the love for their daughter in their eyes. The hugs were real; none awkwardly pulling back or pretending to put authentic feeling in the contact. They were a family and Kennedy could tell that no matter what life threw at them, they would remain one.

After a few minutes, the reunion ended and the group started to make their way towards the brunette. She saw Willow saying something to them and then they all looked in her direction. Kennedy had actually been nervous about meeting 'the parents.' She laughed at herself because meeting new people, any people, came easily for her. She didn't feel shy or unsure around strangers. She had seen her father work a room many a time and had picked up on ways to make a good first impression. Plus, she just liked meeting new people. Despite her preference to keep her own personal details at a minimum, she loved finding out about others. Her watcher had told her it was part of being ever on guard, having as much control over her environment as possible. The more she knew about her surroundings and the people in them, the less chance there was of surprise and injury. She surmised she brought a bit of that slayer philosophy into every aspect of her life.

But this meeting was different; this was personal, as close to her heart as she could get. She wanted Willow's parents to like her, to know that her daughter was with someone who would always take care of her and protect her from harm. To that end, the brunette dressed to show them she was a stable, down to earth, responsible person. In fact, she caught Willow by surprise when she first exited the bathroom, all ready to go. She saw her redhead's expression as Willow just stared at her.

"What?...is this not ok to wear?" She couldn't tell if Willow was pleased or disappointed.

Kennedy wore a simple straight cut dark blue skirt with a slit up one side. Her top was a v-neck cream form-fitting cashmere pullover sweater. Bronzed legs were in no need of hosiery. She had stylish two tone blue pumps that adorned her feet. Her hair was loose but fell perfectly around her face and shoulders.

"I've never seen you dressed like that before." Willow was stunned and amazed that here was yet another side of Kennedy she would get to know.

"Well, I did have to dress up for parties and events growing up…it wasn't all push ups and sword fighting." Willow went to her girl and embraced her. "I just mean…I'm glad I finally get to see all of who you are…you know…what you're like when the world isn't on the verge of ending." Willow had the feeling she would often be surprised by Kennedy.

So there Kennedy now stood in the lobby, bracing herself for the moment of truth. She had to get this right.

"Mom, Dad…this is Kennedy…Kennedy Prescott." Then looking at her slayer, "Kenne, these are my parents, Sheila and Larry."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Rosenberg." Willow's mom stared at the girl for a moment and then stepped over to her and held out her hand. Kennedy took it and gave her a polite but firm handshake. When Kennedy went to let go, Willow's mom kept hold and placed her other hand on top of theirs. She stared some more, more intently at the brunette. Then she smiled.

"It is wonderful to meet you, Kennedy. We knew something was up with our Willow…I noticed a change in her voice when she called… there was something there, I knew it…now I see what it was." Willow's mother was a clinical social worker who took pride in her ability to size people up, to read their body language. The woman got good vibes from the brunette.

"Sheila, let the poor girl breath." Willow's father put his hand on his wife's shoulder, her cue that she was analyzing again. Mrs. Rosenberg let go of Kennedy.

"It's nice to meet you, Kennedy…I'm sorry if we seem surprised, but someone…" he looked at his daughter, "…waited until just now to tell us about you."

"No, it's not Willow's fault, sir. Things have been really hectic here…round the clock activity." Larry saw the girl come to his daughter's rescue. He liked her instantly.

They spent the rest of the day getting to know each other. Kennedy could tell from their initial conversation her girlfriend's parents were intellectuals. Both were college educated. Willow's mother had always been a social worker. Her father started as a teacher and then became a consultant for an environmental watchdog company that oversaw state projects. Kennedy knew they were of the politically liberal persuasion without even having to see the peace sign pin on the lapel of Willow's dad's sports jacket. It was obvious to Kennedy where Willow's love for knowledge and her generous nature came from.

They sat in the lobby for awhile talking. Willow caught up on family matters, her parents' efforts to find a new permanent home, and her parents were filled in on the events of Sunnydale. Willow's parents knew that she was a witch; they were told after she and Tara had been dating for about a year. Tara had convinced her that it would be better to be honest with her parents than to try to keep hiding the secret of her life. "You told them you're gay…you can tell them this, too." As usual, Tara was right. But Willow didn't tell them the whole story of her being a Scooby and didn't inform them of Buffy's status as the slayer. Tara was with her when she informed her parents of the magickal tendencies of their only daughter. It was one of only two times they ever met Tara. Much to her surprise, Sheila and Larry took the news rather well; they didn't call her crazy or threaten an intervention. They believed in their daughter and had known for some time that she was into something deeper than just normal rebellious young adult activities. They trusted that their daughter was not sailing into the abyss of drugs and alcohol and were happy to find out that was so. They worried for her, at times. But, she seemed happy when they saw her, except of course for the horrible time after Tara's death.

That was one reason Willow's mom liked Kennedy. She knew the young woman had to be special to have lifted her daughter out of the severe doldrums she had been swimming in for so long. There were times when Sheila Rosenberg cried for her daughter, for the pain she knew she was going through. Though Willow's retreat to England for several months did bring some respite to her grief, she just wasn't the same sweet Willow they had raised. Then one day, during a phone call, Willow's mother noticed a different tone to her daughter's voice. It was hardly noticeable, but there. Things only got brighter from that point. The mother sensed the light had come back into her daughter's life. She knew even before Willow did.

Once it got time, the four went to dinner, Willow's dad insisting it be his treat. They ended up at a vegetarian fusion bistro. While they ate, Willow's parents got to know Kennedy, her background and upbringing. Kennedy didn't mention she was a slayer. Both women instinctively knew that revelation would have to be reserved for a later meeting, probably much later. They also did not discuss Willow's near death and Kennedy's acts of love to save her. That was a story to be cherished between the witch and slayer, for them alone. Overall, it was a pleasant evening.

By ten, they were back at the hotel. "Are you staying the night in LA?" Willow asked, hoping the answer would be yes. "Sorry, dear…you're mother has a meeting tomorrow morning in Santa Ana and we need to get down there tonight." Kennedy could see her girlfriend was let down by the news.

"Maybe we can come see you after we get back from New York?" Kennedy didn't like to see her redhead sad.

"We'd like that, Kennedy…we should have the house organized by then." Willow's mom replied. The Rosenbergs had rented a house about an hour away from where Sunnydale once stood.

The evening had come to an end, and good-byes were said by all, Willow hugging her parents like she was six years old.

"It was nice meeting you too, Mr. Rosenberg." Another reason he liked the girl, she had very good manners.

Kennedy went to shake Willow's mom's hand but was surprised when the woman brought her in for a hug. "You take care Kennedy…and take care of our little Willow tree." The redhead almost died with embarrassment.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the captain has informed us we're starting our initial descent into LaGuardia Airport. Please put your seat backs in their upright position and return items to the overhead bin or stow away your belongings completely under the seat in front of you."

The flight to New York had gone off without a hitch, that is other than the usual hour delay that had become the norm for air travel in the United States. Kennedy and Willow spent the whole flight talking about what to expect from Kennedy's family and the good time they had with Willow's parents.

"You certainly made a good impression…I've never seen my mom hug anyone who wasn't a relative." Willow was, in fact, quite impressed with her brunette. She was polite and said all the right things. She seemed relaxed and it looked good on her.

"Your parents are nice…they're real…I see a lot of them in you." Willow knew her girl had complimented her.

"Yeah, well…wait til you get to know them better, they can get pretty intense about what they believe in."

Just then, the plane hit some turbulence. Willow tensed and grabbed Kennedy's hand. She had only ever been on a plane but a few times, and she didn't really even remember the flight to England with Giles because of the fog of grief that had surrounded her. She was nervous flying. She had insisted Kennedy sit in the window seat and her in the center. She didn't want to see the clouds or the distant earth below her; she pretended she wasn't thirty-five thousand feet above the nice, safe ground.

"It's ok, Will…just relax." Kennedy could tell her witch wasn't having the best time with the experience. She held onto the delicate hand and began to graze her thumb over the soft alabaster skin on the back of the witch's hand. Kennedy's actions were intuitive, unconsciously done to soothe her redhead. That small gesture was all it took. Willow's emotions calmed.

The redhead marveled at how well Kennedy already knew her, how she could tell her moods and her desires, like she had been studying her for years. The witch was also astonished at how easily her wanton desires bubbled to the surface when it came to Kennedy. The mere slight graze of Kennedy's thumb on her skin was making her inner muscles tighten. Willow had had a very overt sexual reaction to the brunette from the start. But now that they were together, she had this need to touch Kennedy as often as possible. She wanted her hands on the brunette, her mouth on her. Willow often found herself, since their first night together, daydreaming about making love to the woman. The witch had become a slave to her desires in some respects, and she liked it. She wasn't used to it, but she didn't want the feeling to go away. Scenarios began to fill her mind, not so much fantasies but snapshots of specific things she'd read about or imagined. The boots were one example. It took all of Willow's courage to walk out in front of Kennedy wearing only those boots. But once she saw her slayer look at her, all feeling of doubt or shyness vanished. The brunette made her feel beautiful and sexy. Those brown eyes never looked at her with anything other than want. Willow had been swept away by them.

Holding her hand now, Willow felt that immediate need for more contact. It was a feeling the redhead was learning she could not ignore, nor did she want to. She said nothing as she leaned over Kennedy, as if to look out the plane's window, and placed her unoccupied hand in between Kennedy's legs, pressing and slowly rubbing against Kennedy's center. The brunette was startled by the contact, but quickly recovered, scanning the area then almost closing her eyes as her witch continued covertly stroking. She was taking great lengths to keep her breathing in check so as not to call the attention of the woman sitting next to Willow.

"Please put your tray table up, sir-" The flight attendant's comment was directed to the gentleman across the isle, but it was a close enough call for Willow to make her cease her little torment of Kennedy. "I can't keep my hands off you…" the witch whispered in her slayer's ear as she leaned back to her sitting position. "Don't ever stop," was whispered in return.

The flight landed at 2:45p.m. and, after the obligatory half hour wait on the tarmac, the slayer and her witch deplaned and headed for the airport exit. Kennedy specifically talked Willow into only bringing a carry-on. The brunette hated to deal with the throng of frenzied masses that was the baggage claim area. So, after leaving the plane, they made the long walk down Airside B to the tram which would take them to the main terminal, where mobs of relatives, loved ones and friends waited for passengers. Whenever the Prescott's flew into New York, they were always taken home by one of their drivers. No matter what time of night or day, there was always a car and driver waiting for the returning voyager, regardless of who it was. Outside the far exit doors to the right on the ground floor, the black limo would be waiting as if it never left the place. Kennedy expected to follow the same usual routine.

However, when she and Willow departed the tram she heard a high pitched voice, "K-E-N-N-E-D-Y-Y-Y-!" The brunette knew the call and searched for the face. "Emma!-" she shouted when she found it. Seconds later, Kennedy was embraced by an overexcited, blonde-headed twelve year old. "Hey kiddo…it's great to see ya…my god, you've gotten taller." Willow smiled when she saw the happiness in her slayer's expression. Emma finally let go and Kennedy looked behind the young girl and saw her father standing there, arms by his side. The brunette walked over to him. He stared at her for a moment and then put his arms around her. "It's good to have you home, Kenny." Kennedy hugged back, earnestly. Despite all their problems, all the disappointments she thought he held against her, he was still her father and she loved the man, even if he wasn't that white knight she had worshipped all those years ago. Kennedy's father let go first, and the girl could feel his retreat, both physically and emotionally. She thought to herself, 'It was good while it lasted.'

After the short lived father-daughter moment, Kennedy turned to Willow and motioned her to come by her side. "Dad…this is Willow Rosenberg…Willow this is my father, Jackson Prescott."

"Yes sir, it was…it's nice to meet you." The man stared at the redhead and his first thought was how his daughter shared at least one trait with him – a taste for beautiful women.

Willow didn't know what to think of the man except that he intimidated her. He was handsome, tall with graying hair and piercing blue eyes. He stood as if at attention, like he was in charge of the place. Everything about him screamed success, from his impeccable suit to his manicured fingernails. He was nothing short of formidable. But what the redhead didn't sense from him was open emotion. Here was a man who hadn't seen his daughter in months, who knew she had been in grave danger and even maybe thought was dead, and he didn't look overjoyed. Willow strained to think he even looked happy. It was in marked contrast to the way Kennedy had said he sounded on the phone only a few days earlier. The redhead sensed that Kennedy's father, like his daughter, showed a different side to the public world, the one where nothing bothered him. Willow instantly gained another insight into the 'I'm in control' attitude of her slayer.

"And this squirt…" Kennedy said as she messed up her little sister's hair, "…is my bratty sister, Emma." The two sisters kept up the horse-play.

"You're weird, ya little snot." Kennedy chided back, grabbing Emma from behind and picking her up.

Jackson Prescott coughed. "Yes, well…why don't we head to the car. We still have the ride home." The Prescott girls instantly obeyed, and the group gathered their belongings and headed for the exit.

Willow saw the saddened look on her girlfriend's face, knowing that even this one small gesture hadn't been his idea.

Emma talked the entire ride home. She talked about school, her mom, the pet dog and a boy named Timothy Brickford. Mr. Prescott made small chit chat about the flight and the weather in LA. He also made a few business calls during the drive, but was otherwise silent. Except for prom, Willow had never been in a limo. It was strange to her that Kennedy's family actually did this all the time. The redhead was starting to ready herself to be overwhelmed by the inevitable dramatic lifestyle of her brunette's family.

Kennedy had told Willow very little about where she grew up or the house she lived in. During the flight, the brunette only filled her in on the routine of 'the Prescott home' – meal time, acceptable dress and table discussion. The slayer hadn't even described her home. Willow only knew it had 'wings'; she deduced it had to be big. As the car made its way up the long winding driveway, Willow was shocked by how inaccurate she was in her calculation of its size. The place was a mansion; it was huge, like those seen on PBS documentaries about the homesteads of American billionaires. That's when Willow realized that Kennedy's family wasn't just rich; they were stinking, filthy rich. The redhead stared at the mansion that filled her vision.

Kennedy didn't know what to say. She couldn't tell Willow it was no big deal, because she knew it was. She learned at an early age that the vast majority of people didn't live in the comfort or style she had grown up in. She also knew trying to brush off her redhead's reaction would be disingenuous to her feelings. There was no way that Kennedy could have prepared her witch for the scene before her now. The brunette could only hope that Willow would see that a mansion didn't make a perfect home or a happy life, no matter how big it was.

The car finally stopped in the driveway in the portico to the front entranceway. Everyone got out and the driver began to remove their bags from the trunk. Even before the arrivals made it to the massive granite steps leading to the door, a man in a black suit with a white shirt and black tie came walking out. "Sir…" he nodded to Mr. Prescott, "…Miss Emma…Welcome home Ms. Kennedy…" then looking at Willow, "…Hello, Miss." Willow replied with her own pleasant hello. The man then went directly to the bags that had been placed on the bottom step and picked them up, turning and making his way up the steps to the front door, while saying, "Stephanie has some snacks and light sandwiches prepared in the sun room if anyone is hungry, sir."

"Thank you, Phillip…Please take the bags to Kennedy's room and the guest room down the hall from hers."

Willow stood in awe. 'Is this what it's like to be royalty?' she wondered. She was never at a house that had servants or a maid or a driver. She wondered who was going to come out of the woodwork next. She got stage fright, fearing she'd make some inappropriate statement or movement. So she just stood there while the others started to make their way into the home. Kennedy quickly saw the 'deer in the headlight' look of her redhead, and went back to her, placing her hand on the witch's back. "I know this is a lot to take in…" she said as she tried to ease her witch's overwhelmed mind. The brunette walked her into the foyer.

If Willow was impressed with the outside of the mansion, she was in complete and total awe now. She was speechless from the grandeur of the sight before her. She was standing in a massive foyer that went on in front of her for at least fifty feet. There was a marble staircase up ahead to her left about twenty feet. Before the staircase, and on the same side was a massive carved mahogany wood door. To the right of her were several more similar doors, obviously entrances to justly named rooms such as 'the music room', 'the library' and 'the smoking room.' The ceiling of the foyer, which had intricate molding encasing it, had to be at least thirty feet high, with a magnificent crystal chandelier that hung like a giant spider from its center. The floors were marble or granite, she didn't know, not having had enough exposure to either to know the difference. There were beautiful pieces of furniture, end tables and chairs that Willow knew had to be antiques with special names from the times of Luis XIV or Queen Victoria. There were also exquisite vases, lamp and bowls on the tables which the redhead also decided had to be worth a king's ransom. The walls were adorned with works of art, some of which Willow recognized the artists. There was a Monet, a Renoir and a Botticelli. Upon more intense inspection from her frozen spot in the hallway, Willow could tell those canvasses were no duplicates; they were made from the brush strokes of the artists themselves. The witch felt like she was in a museum, that she should have had to pay admission to enjoy all the magnificence surrounding her.

Kennedy let her girlfriend take in the opulence of the place. It was inspiring even for those who had lived there their whole lives. She couldn't imagine what her girl was thinking as those green eyes took in the scene. She didn't want Willow to feel devalued by the place, or that Kennedy was somehow different now that the redhead had a chance to see her lifestyle. The slayer needed her girl to know that her upbringing, her material trappings, didn't determine her soul or character. She was still the same Kennedy the witch knew in Sunnydale, the same girl she had come to love.

The brunette went to Willow and took her hand, "I know…it's like a museum almost…I didn't know how to explain it to you…without sounding pompous."

"I don't know what to say Kenn…this is incredible…I had no idea…." Willow sounded like she was in shock.

"Yeah…it's kinda why I don't get into it much with people…just hard to describe the life…" It was the truth. Willow's reaction was just the reason Kennedy kept the details of her lifestyle from strangers. Either they wouldn't understand, wouldn't believe her or would act differently with the revelation. Kennedy wanted to be judged for her character, her personality, not the façade that seemed to automatically be forced upon her when people found out the extravagance in which she lived. She could live the high life but she wasn't necessarily entrenched in it.

"Let's go find our bags," she whispered to her witch. "Dad…Willow and I are gonna take care of our stuff and then we'll be back down."

"Fine…" Kennedy's father had followed them in the house and immediately gone to one of the smaller tables and was sorting through mail and messages. As Emma started to follow the two women, Jackson Prescott said, without looking up from the mail in his hands, "…leave your sister alone, Emma…let the two of them get settled in…there'll be plenty of time to annoy Kennedy later."

Kennedy led Willow up the Turkish and Italian marble staircase, down another extravagant hallway decorated with expensive paintings and antiques, across to a hallway on the right, which was just as long and magnificent until they came to a series of doors aligning both sides of yet another hall. "Are we in the same town?" joked Willow. She thought, 'How much of a threat to Emma did Kennedy's stepmother think she was to send her to the mansion's version of Siberia.' "At least I got a lot of exercise," Kennedy tried to joke back.

Then the observation hit her. Willow looked at Kennedy and asked,"Where's your stepmom?"

"Massage day at LaGrange's in the city…never misses an appointment…she'll be at dinner." The response was neither excited nor spiteful.

When they got to the fourth door on the right, Kennedy stopped. "This is it…my room." Willow could hear apprehension in her voice. Kennedy turned the brass casted knob, opened the door and walked in, Willow following right behind. Once in, the brunette shut the door. The room was a stark contrast to the other parts of the dwelling the redhead had seen. There were no antiques, no fancy tables or paintings. It was a big room to be sure, but devoid of the 'museum' feel. There was a simple yet elegant four post queen sized bed against the wall to the right with matching bureaus and a lingerie chest against the far wall from the door and directly inside to the left. There was a large window with a balcony across the room from the bed. On the wall to the right of the window was a plasma tv with a state of the art stereo/tv system in a cabinet below it.

The bed was covered by a quilt of differing shades of muted green and beautiful designs of what looked to the witch to be pinwheels in motion. Willow went over to examine it. "This is so beautiful." Her fingers traced the intricate needle work that prevailed throughout the quilt.

"My grandmother, my mom's mother, made that for me when I turned five…I was told she was known for her sewing."

"Wow..did she ever show you how to do this?" Willow didn't know the tragic story of the desertion of her mother at age five.

"No…I haven't seen her since I was five." Green eyes looked at brown confused. "My mom left when I was five…I never saw any of her relatives after that…they lived in Costa Rica and Brazil." The redhead heard the sorrow in her slayer's voice and felt bad she brought up painful memories.

The brunette gave her a slight smile, "I know…that's my fault…I haven't told you much about my family…it's just that…it shouldn't bother me as much as it does some times…but I handle it."

Willow saw that self-reliant girl struggling to hold onto to what she perceived as her pride, her strength. The redhead knew that Kennedy never wanted anyone to feel that any situation had bested her.

"Kenne, baby…this isn't about you not being able to handle things. From what I've seen you do, you're able to handle anything…" the witch's tone grew softer, more compassionate, "…but we're who we are because of our past…it's our best friend and worst enemy…we need to be able to tell the difference, and not let the bad things get in the way." The witch didn't know if she was being clear with her thoughts. "You're not weak for talking about your mom or for still having strong feelings about what she did…that doesn't mean you can't deal …it just means your human."

Willow knew all too well the feeling of abandoned worth in oneself for mishandling a tragedy. She made penance daily for what seemed forever after her failed attempt to end the world. She hated herself for letting her grief consume her to the point of destruction of almost all that was good in her. She knew her inability to handle Tara's death came from her vulnerability to the lure of magick. With her spells and potions she felt a power that she had lacked her entire life. Magick vanquished the shy, geeky girl she had been through high school and into college. In her place was a woman who could bring demons to their immortal end, and resurrect the dead. Her skills allowed her to be someone different to the world than she felt and knew she was deep inside. It took her descent into the bowels of the dark magicks and her slow agonizing crawl back out into the light of the real world for her to see the truth. The truth being that even that shy, geeky girl had power, had everything she needed in her heart and soul to be impressive to the world, to herself. Willow knew that now; due in part, in large part, to the beautiful dark haired slayer standing in front of her.

"Baby…talking to me'll make things easier…that's what you've done for me…I want to be able to do the same for you." The witch raised her hand up and grazed Kennedy's cheek. "I love you…I don't want anything to get in the way of you being as happy as you can be."

"You make me happy…" Kennedy took her lover in a warm embrace. "…and I know you're right…I just never had anyone to tell this stuff to …that I wanted to tell this to…until you." Every time the emotional barrier that had surrounded the brunette for so long tried to rebuild itself, Willow would knock it down, and little by little Kennedy was throwing away the pieces, never to be seen again. The brunette leaned in and gave her witch a slow, deep kiss. This was not one brought on by the throws of passion but by the ever present knowledge on the slayer's part that the witch had redeemed the brunette's life and that the younger woman was eternally in her debt.

The kiss ended and green eyes met brown, an unspoken understanding that the brunette would expose naked her past to Willow, but that the conversation would take place at a later time, when there was no pressure and no waiting family in the sun room. Looking around, Willow noticed that only Kennedy's bag was in her room.

"Ah, Will…your bag's in the guest room, two doors down…I guess my dad isn't ready for us to share a room…" she pulled her redhead closer, "but then again…what he doesn't know at the other end of the house can't hurt him." The slayer gave a devilish look.

"Heh, I don't want your dad mad at me." It was the truth; the man made her nervous like a teacher staring at a student during a test, waiting for her to cheat.

"Don't worry, Willow…he'll never know...besides, there's no way I'm making it through the next two days without major Willow snuggles at night." Kennedy put as much mock pleading into her tone as possible without beginning to laugh.

"Alright…but if we get caught and your father sends his lawyers after me…no snuggles for a month." Willow half heartedly had put her foot down.

"Right…like you could go a month without me...puh-leeze." Kennedy confidently stated through a big smile. Willow had been called on her bluff. She folded.

"Well then, let's go experience the horror that is the Prescott family dinner, " Kennedy jokingly said as she took Willow's hand and led her out the room. As they made their way through the labyrinth again, the redhead quipped, "Kenne, ya think I should leave a trail of bread crumbs?" The brunette just laughed.

Though Kennedy's description of dinner was melodramatic, it was accurate in some respects. Dinner wasn't formal, but Willow surmised cut off jeans would not be welcomed. The dining room was just as wonderful as every other room Willow had seen. The table sat twelve, and even though there were only five of them, Kennedy's father and stepmom sat at each end, with Emma on one side at the middle of the table and Willow and Kennedy directly across from her. When they first entered the room, Kennedy's stepmother was already there, talking to one of the servants. The woman turned to face Kennedy.

"Kennedy, it is so nice to have you back…we were so worried about you." The woman leaned in and gave the brunette a polite, warm hug. Willow scrutinized the woman. She was, as Kennedy had told her, beautiful in that blonde, blue-eyed All-American girl way. She was slender, of average height and perfect teeth. Willow wondered if they were caps. She was tanned, the kind one gets from playing tennis in a woman's Wednesday afternoon league. She moved gracefully, certainly learned from her days of beauty pageants. Her voice was not too soft or too loud. Willow saw nothing to dislike or admire in the woman. She seemed the perfect trophy wife.

"Julia, this is my girlfriend, Willow." Even though the woman had been in her life over twelve years, Kennedy could never come to call her mom or mother. She had tried a few times after requests from her father, but the name didn't feel right out of her mouth, it was like saying a foreign word without knowing its meaning. So Kennedy just called her Julia. It wasn't that she hated or even disliked the woman; in fact, Kennedy realized Julia had treated her quite well. But there never seemed to be a connection between the two and when Emma was born, Julia Prescott put her efforts into the child she knew would give her unconditional acceptance.

Mrs. Prescott turned to Willow and held out her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Willow." She shook Willow's hand, but only lightly and for the appropriate three second time limit. She then just looked at the redhead for a moment and turned away, for more comments to the staff. That's when Willow felt it, the polite disdain that the woman had for her and Kennedy and anyone of 'that' persuasion. Julia Prescott had shown her disapproval in a courteous, well mannered way learned in the finest of finishing schools. Willow discerned that Julia Prescott was the kind of person that people would say was 'nice' because she was cordial despite holding beliefs that ran rough shod over people's self worth. She was a 'good' person because she was polite, not because she treated people fairly. The witch understood her brunette's feeling's of being an outcast in her own family. Willow could now sense that undercurrent of disapproval that flowed through Kennedy's life. What she didn't understand was why Kennedy's father let it persist. Dinner gave her the answer.

During their five star meal, Willow watched the interaction between the married Prescotts. Though at opposite ends of the table, they kept a steady discourse. After questioning Kennedy and Willow about their time in Sunnydale and present situation, though never directly asking about 'slayer' information so as not to elicit questions from his wife or younger daughter, Jackson Prescott gave up the floor to his wife. She asked both the witch and the slayer some mundane questions about LA and then changed the subject to her husband. She informed Kennedy of his most recent financial accomplishments and the award he'd won from some snooty banking association. Julia made sure the servants always kept her husband's glass full and that they didn't put to much salt in his food, to help with his high blood pressure. To Willow, it was obvious the woman loved her husband and did all she could to make him happy. It seemed allowing her narrow minded attitude to run over Kennedy was the price Jackson Prescott was willing to pay to have that 'perfect' wife stay perfect.

Dinner finally ended and Kennedy excused her and Willow, stating it had been a long day and they were both tired. She promised Emma they would spend time together the next day. As they started to leave, Julia Prescott said, "Willow, I take it your room is acceptable?"

"Good, you shouldn't have any problem having a good night's sleep there." The implied meaning stood in the room like a white elephant.

"We'll see you all in the morning." Kennedy took Willow by the hand and walked them out.

Jackson Prescott followed and before the couple started up the stairs- "Kenny…I'm glad you're back…and Willow…it's nice to have you here, too." The words were sincere. "…Have a good night's sleep and we'll see you in the morning." Kennedy smiled and said good night to her father.

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea, Kenne…" Willow couldn't believe she was suggesting that they stop snuggling together under the covers of Kennedy's comfortable bed.

"Don't let her get to you, Will…she thinks what she believes is the only right way…she'll never understand."

Kennedy, who was behind Willow pressing against her, put her arm over her lover's waist and began to caress the soft skin of her stomach, working her way up under the witch's night shirt to her left breast. She gently traced her forefinger around the breast, working her way inward around the nipple and then lightly over it. Willow felt that familiar surge of feeling resonate from her core. The witch then felt lips on the back of her neck, traveling down to her shoulder, a tongue playfully flicking along the way. Willow's concern about breaking 'the rule' was soon forgotten. She wondered if there would ever come a day when she would be able to deny her body to the slayer, if there would ever come a time when she would want to.

The witch rolled onto her back and pulled Kennedy on top of her, the brunette carrying her weight on her hands which were on either side of the witch. Delicate fingers wove through soft raven tresses, their final residence behind the brunette's head. "You are so beautiful," the witch whispered as those fingers brought the girl's mouth to unite with her own. Willow's physical need for her slayer engulfed her. She shifted and soon had the brunette beneath her. Once again, the witch and the slayer began the dance.

Each repeated union of the women brought further insight to their likes and desires. Each heated session fulfilled and exceeded their expectations. Willow discovered that the brunette became particularly vocal, with moans, heavy sighing and pleas to the heavens in the form of 'Oh, God' and 'Jesus', when the witch applied a specific swirling motion with her tongue to her lover's intimate center. Kennedy could also be less holy in her verbal appreciation of Willow's techniques. During their latest love making, the redhead found the perfect bonding of tongue and fingers and felt her brunette's inner muscles begin to tighten. Kennedy arched her back and grabbed crimson hair, involuntarily pushing for more contact on her aching center from the mouth and fingers. The witch could feel her slayer's release was close, the ripples of sensation beginning to roll through her. Closed eyes shut tighter. "Ohh…." Kennedy moaned as the waves intensified, her body reeling from her lover's touches. The feeling then started to thunder through her like a raging river, head tilted back and mouth open from the pleasure. "…fuck.…..oh, fuck…" came the muffled cry through ragged breath as the full impact of her orgasm hit her, muscles momentarily frozen from the sensation then swept into forceful spasms until the overpowering feeling made its last pass through her body. The brunette slowly descended back to earthly reality and the two women soon fell asleep in each others arms. It was the first truly good night's sleep Kennedy had had in that bed in a long time.

Willow stirred from her sleep. She was on her right side and could feel the warmth of her girl's back against her breasts, her legs following the same bent path as Kennedy's, her left arm lying snugly around her slayer's firm waist and its hand holding onto Kennedy's. Emerald eyes flickered open and saw a beautiful bronzed shoulder; she leaned in and gave it a soft kiss. The touch was enough to bring the brunette from her state of blissful sleep.

"Mmm…throw away the alarm clock…I wanna wake up that way, everyday…" Kennedy took the hand she held to her mouth and gave the alabaster fingers a chaste kiss. She turned onto her back to view her witch. "Did you sleep, ok?"

"Uh, oh…it's eight-thirty. They're probably already having breakfast." Willow tensed with the comment.

"What if someone came to get us…or checked up on us…on me…they'd know I didn't…" Kennedy put a finger to her panicking witch's lips.

"I got up earlier, went to your room and messed up the sheets, threw some towels on the floor in the bathroom. They'll never know you weren't there." Willow was impressed by the cunning of her girl and wondered if this was a subterfuge she had played before. After a moment's thought, the look of panic returned. She stared at brown eyes, "But now they'll think I'm a slob." Kennedy collapsed back onto the bed, hands over her face and said jokingly, "I can't win."

Breakfast went as expected. Since it was a Saturday, Emma and Kennedy's father were home all day and at breakfast. The brunette wouldn't have thought their presence a foregone conclusion had it been a weekday. The topic of conversation was the day's plans. Kennedy's father had office work to do in his study, as usual. Julia Prescott was meeting with her Junior League colleagues then helping out at a soup kitchen, "to help the poor." Willow wondered how many hot lunches for the 'poor' any one of the five big gold bracelets on the woman's wrist would buy. Kennedy planned on showing Willow around the area and then rummaging through her belongings to determine which items were returning with her when she left. She had asked Willow if she minded if Emma came along with them. "Of course I don't mind…I'd love to get to know her…and she needs to spend time with you." Willow had even suggested Kennedy forego their sightseeing so her slayer could spend time alone with her little sister. Kennedy thanked Willow for her thoughtful concern but said she wanted Emma to get to know her witch. So, after breakfast was done the three headed out in one of the family's seven cars, a black Infiniti QX4, powerful yet stylish; Kennedy felt a kindred spirit to the vehicle.

The three girls spent a good part of the day driving around the town and surrounding county area where Kennedy had called home. Willow saw impressive home after home, serene winding country roads, lined with looming old oak and birch trees. There were quaint antiques shops and a cider mill. They had lunch at a restaurant that had once been living quarters for several union generals during the civil war. The three talked and laughed; Kennedy told stories of the history of the area, and Emma told stories of Kennedy's history. Willow was duly informed and intrigued with both. The redhead could tell that Emma revered her big sister and that Kennedy dearly loved her. Kennedy showed Emma the softness that was known only to the redhead. Willow could see her girlfriend liked being a big sister. Emma hung on her every word. To the twelve year old, there was nothing 'different' about her big sis, she was just the best. Willow hoped that Emma's keen sense for the nature of her sister would withstand the inevitable underpinning by her mother. The three travelers finally finished their touristy adventure and made it back to the mansion just before three-thirty. Kennedy then took Willow out for a walk on the grounds; Emma was trapped with piano lessons and had to stay behind.

Jackson Prescott looked out the windows from the back sitting room and watched as his daughter walked hand in hand with her girlfriend around the grounds of the home. Polite and quite was his initial impression of Willow. She seemed nice and was well groomed. He had studied her at dinner and breakfast. The small amount of conversation they had was enough to tell him the woman had an intellect. He smiled at the thought, 'Beauty and brains, Kenny has high standards.' Jackson Prescott had watched the interaction between the woman and his daughter. The redhead was always engrossed in what Kennedy was saying. He also noticed that Willow looked at his daughter even when they weren't engaged in talk, like gazing upon a work of art. Her shy demeanor didn't affect the man; many were intimidated by him, he knew. What Jackson Prescott found approving was that Willow wasn't obvious about her trepidations of him. She had self control; that was a quality admired by the man. Overall, he looked favorably upon the redhead. "If only she could have been a man…" he whispered as he kept watching the two out the windows.

He observed as Kennedy showed the redhead the fountain and statues and exotic trees that inhabited the area. The man noticed that his daughter was attentive, spending time at different places, seemingly to explain an anecdote or answer a probing question. The father saw how his daughter always had hold of the petite woman's hand or arm, or had her own hand lightly on the redhead's back. What he noticed most was his daughter's smile; it never left her face. He had seen that same smile at dinner the night before and breakfast that morning. It was impossible for him to miss how his daughter looked at Willow and how the woman returned it in kind. He knew the look because it was the same one he had worn for Kennedy's mother. He had never seen his daughter in love before, although, if he were honest with himself, he had never taken the time to notice.

He was at odds with his daughter's sexuality. He always suspected she 'preferred' girls, but he didn't want to foster it or say it out loud, knowing that, if true, her life would be harder and filled with more hurt than most because of the society in which she lived . Of course, when his wife caught her 'together' with another girl, suspicion vanished. He wasn't against homosexuality per se, like his wife, he didn't buy into the conservative, and not so conservative, Christian dogma that proclaimed it an abomination. He had experienced too much in life to accept that only one view was the 'right' way. Jackson Prescott's misgivings on the subject matter were specific to his daughter and her place in society. She was a Prescott and much was expected from her. He had indulged her 'slayer training' all the while ensuring her a top notch education and social standing. Being a lesbian threatened the picture the man had painted for his daughter. The upper echelon of society didn't really accept or want anything but the familiar, the normal, that which had always come before. That meant respectable, well educated people who worked hard, got married and had families. Kennedy's father had observed, from when his daughter was young, that she didn't seem to fit that mold. He didn't know what he would do with her.

Now, seeing his daughter so happy, like she used to be before her mother left, Jackson Prescott was at a loss. His daughter didn't want to be in New York anymore, she wanted that wisp of a redheaded girl. His Kennedy was now a slayer, though that still had the man bewildered. Did she just expect him to allow her out of her family responsibilities? Could he let her walk away? There would be a price to pay for whatever the conclusion brought. He knew the matter had to be resolved during her stay.

As he saw the two women walking back to the house, the decided not to wait. He opened the French doors to the back patio area just as the women were coming to its edge. "Kennedy, can I speak to you…alone?"

The witch and the slayer looked at each other and Willow clumsily said, "I'm a little worn out. I'm gonna go to my room and take a nap." She squeezed her brunette's hand and passed Kennedy's father at the door as she entered the sitting room, thinking to herself that she had no idea how she would actually find her room.

"Kennedy, why don't we go to the garden." It wasn't a question but an even toned directive. Unsure of what her father was up to, Kennedy nodded and the two headed in that direction.

When they arrived, her father went to the teakwood benches facing the center piece fountain and sat down, motioning Kennedy to do the same. She complied. "What's this about, Dad?" The girl didn't need slayer senses to know there was a reason for her father's actions. Solitary discussions were relegated to times when frank and unobstructed communication was necessary.

"I told you, I'm with Willow…in California for right now." She already didn't like where this was going. Jackson Prescott cut to the chase; he was not one to mince words.

"Kenny, until five months ago, you were in college, living in New York contented…you had a focus for your life…on your way to getting a career."

Kennedy realized how little her father really knew of her. "I was in college because I hadn't been chosen, because Thomas said I should go…I had no idea what I wanted to do…and I wasn't content, I was existing."

"But Kennedy, you always did so well in school. I thought you couldn't wait to go…Besides, you're a Prescott. It's expected that you get a degree…that you carry your responsibility to this family." If his daughter thought she was going to slide out easily, Jackson Prescott was ready to battle for her loyalty.

"Dad, college was fine, I did like it…but I'm a slayer now…that's my first responsibility…that and Willow."

"This slayer nonsense has gone too far. You said at dinner there were others in your same situation. So why do you have to take on this burden…leave it to others who don't have as much to lose as you."

Kennedy's father still didn't grasp the enormity of being a slayer. He had never fully believed the stories from Kennedy's watcher, thinking them more puffing than fact. A good ruse to coax additional hard work from his young daughter. Not that the man thought the slayer legacy a total lie. He did research on his own and, from the information he could gather, there was a legacy of a righteous girl fighting evil in order to bring good to the world. The part of the tale he found incapable of swallowing was the slayer 'power,' the immediate infusion of extraordinary capabilities upon being deemed the 'Chosen One.' He fancied the slayer instead as a finely tuned feminine fighting machine, a teenage version of a Special Forces commando. That's how he had sold it to Kennedy's stepmother, an intense form of self-defense training; she bought it. He had let Kennedy continue with Sinclair because he knew that the discipline of mind and body would be good for his daughter. But now she had that and there was no further need he could see for her to hang on to that dream.

"You don't get it…this is what I've been waiting for…to be a slayer…Thomas was right. I did get chosen…and I'm not giving that up…I can't." Kennedy could sense his skepticism of the slayer legacy surfacing.

"What I've been waiting for is for you to realize your family obligations and give up this super hero fantasy." Kennedy's father was becoming upset with his daughter's stubbornness.

"It's not a fantasy…it's real." The brunette's tone was filled with anger. Her father really hadn't ever believed in her potential, in any sense of the word. She knew she would just have to convince him.

She got off her bench and walked over to one of the four large statues that lined the fountain wall. It was a piece in brass and stone, a modernistic interpretation of Rodin's 'Eternal Springtime'. Kennedy bent at her knees, placed her arms around the art piece at just above the base…and lifted it high off the ground.

Jackson Prescott almost fell out of his chair. He had supervised the placement of all the statues on his property and knew the one now being cradled off the ground by his daughter had to weigh at least five hundred pounds. Kennedy carefully placed the statue back down and returned to her father.

"I-I…I didn't believe…realize…" Kennedy's father didn't know what to say. He instantly knew everything Thomas Sinclair had ever told him was true. His daughter was a 'slayer'; a warrior against vampires and other evil in the world. He believed it as sure as he believed in the free market and capitalism.

"This is what I'm meant to do, Dad…it's my destiny…this and Willow." It was the most honest thing she had ever said to her father.

Jackson Prescott knew they would come back to the redhead. Placing her future on the line for an ambition was one thing, but entrusting one's entire future in the feelings of another was a horse of a different color. "Kenny, I know you love this woman…but this is your future…things change…people change." As much as he didn't want to think negative of his daughter's girlfriend, he knew the heart ache of a blazing love snuffed out like an evening's candle. He'd experienced that raptured love didn't guarantee longevity of that feeling. He wanted his daughter spared that tragedy.

Her mother, though gone for almost fifteen years, was once again inexplicitly involved in Kennedy's life. Her father's failure, his unresolved issues for the long gone woman, was being thrown in her face. Kennedy wouldn't let the ghost win this time. "Dad, I'm not you and Willow's not Mom…we love each other…believe me, we've already been through a lot…I'd be with her even if I wasn't a slayer."

Jackson Prescott saw that same resolve in his daughter's face as he had seen a thousand times on her mother's. He knew her decision was made and not even hell on earth could get her to change it. For the first time, he saw his daughter not as his little girl but as a grown adult, a confident, self-determined and happy woman—everything he had secretly wanted for his daughter. She was truly happy and, in the end, that was all that really mattered. He knew yet another battle with the Gonzalez-Prescott women had been lost. He sighed.

"Alright Kennedy…if this is what you want…" He wouldn't let her get off completely, "…but I want you to finish college…and keep in touch so I know how you're doing. I'm still your father."

"I will, Dad. I never meant to give up on college…I'll figure out something, I promise." She wasn't lying.

"Let's go back to the house before it gets dark out…I'm sure Willow still hasn't made it to her room, yet." Kennedy saw the half smile come over her father's face. She grabbed him by the arm and they walked together.

"Willow…she's a nice girl." Kennedy knew this was as close to a seal of approval she'd get from the man.

"Kenny, don't mess up her room…it only makes more work for the help." Kennedy stopped walking and looked at her father with an expression that said 'How did you know?'

Without looking back at his daughter, "I was your age, once…I know the tricks."

They continued to walk, a smile on Jackson Prescott's face, utter shock and embarrassment on Kennedy's.

Later that night, in Kennedy's room, the brunette recounted to her witch the discussion with her father while they foraged through her belongings, giving a 'yay' or 'nay' to clothing, books, jewelry and other personal sundries. They were standing in Kennedy's walk-in closet, a space which Willow noticed was almost as big as her bedroom growing up. There were several boxes that the brunette hadn't touched in years, most for good reason. They were filled with old school items and toys she'd not need and resultantly placed back on the closet shelves. However, when Kennedy took one box out, a blue one no bigger than a toaster, Willow noticed her girlfriend instantly became quiet, just holding the little cardboard container while standing completely still.

"Baby…are you ok?" There was concern in the witch's voice. Kennedy turned around to face her.

When Kennedy's mother first left and her father was on his tirade to remove all evidence of her existence, young Kennedy had pleaded to keep several small items left behind. It wasn't until she cried like she was pinned under a bus that her father caved in to her request. He made her keep the items in her bedroom and in a box, the same box that was now in her hands. In the beginning, she'd take the objects out every night, hold them close, thinking that somehow her mother would sense her need and come home. Over time, the items came out with less frequency until one night Kennedy forgot that the box was in the back corner shelf of her closet. There it remained untouched and forgotten until now.

Willow went to her girl who stared at her with conflicted eyes. Kennedy sat on the floor and Willow followed suit. Slowly, Kennedy took off the lid and peered into her past. Her hand went in and came out with a picture. She just stared at it. The redhead leaned over to see the framed photograph; it was of a beautiful, bronzed woman with flowing black hair and amazing dark eyes, and a little girl who could have been no one other than Kennedy.

"Your mom's beautiful." Willow wondered if her words would be taken as a betrayal as soon as they left her lips. They weren't intended as such.

"Yeah..she is…was…" Kennedy didn't know what tense to use to talk about her mother. She also knew Willow was right; her mother was beautiful. For a long time Kennedy thought her the most beautiful person on this earth. That ended when the box was forgotten in the closet.

Kennedy put the picture on the floor beside her and reached back into the box, this time removing a handkerchief. It was made of silk with finely sewn lace trimmings. It too went to the floor with the picture. The next item removed was a dried flower, a red camilia, her mother's favorite. And lastly, Kennedy held a charm bracelet, a delicate white gold chain from which hung four tiny charms. The brunette lightly touched each one with her finger.

"Sun, moon…turtle and morning star…these charms…I remember my mom telling me stories …huh …fairy tales really…about good and evil and how mystical powers helped good to prevail…she was always telling me old Indian legends …they never made much sense to me back then." Nostalgia filled her voice. And then brown eyes felt the sting of newly born tears.

Kennedy abruptly placed all the items back into the box and replaced the lid. She held it in her hands, not knowing its fate. Willow placed her hand on Kennedy's shoulder. "Maybe there's a reason you found this now, Kenn…maybe it's time you…" the redhead corrected herself, "…we deal with this and get it behind us." The witch hated to see her always confident brunette in silent discord. Willow knew Kennedy had to face the feelings about her mother she'd kept buried inside her. She wanted to be there to help her brunette through the quicksand and back to solid ground.

On the second night of Kennedy's prodigal return, the women made love in celebration of her newly found respect from her father, in continued confirmation of their own union, and for the survival from a sudden attack of the slayer's past. Later in the quiet room, lighted only from the moonbeams projecting across the floor from the window, Kennedy held her sleeping witch, feeling the soothing rise and fall of her chest against her. She wondered what life had in store for her, knowing that so long as the witch in her arms was by her side, she'd conquer anything. Kennedy drifted off to sleep realizing tomorrow would truly be the start of her new life.

Willow paced in the room. She was in a foreign country, without the people that she had always depended on when times got unbearable. There were voices all around her now, people traversing the hall, passing by the surgical waiting room that had become her instant home. She heard conversations but they were partly undecipherable. After ten months in Brazil, she was getting an ear for Portuguese but still didn't understand some of the language if spoken at normal conversational speed. She knew enough to make her way through the local market, restaurant or nightclub, and she knew how to ask where the bathroom was. The witch smiled as she remembered her brunette telling her, "All you really need to know how to say in any language is 'where's the bathroom?'... Everything else you can use hand gestures or facial expressions." Her slayer had turned out to be right, like so many other times since they'd arrived in Brazil.

Willow listened to the voices of strangers, wondering if they were pleading for the life of a loved one. She now wished she had taken a crash course in Portuguese. "This is Brazilian Portuguese, Will…" Kennedy had told her. A version different than that spoken in the original motherland. As the voices walked by, Willow realized she wouldn't have been able to tell the difference, Kennedy could have though. But her brunette wasn't with her; she was on a table having only god knew what done to her. Kennedy wasn't there to help Willow be strong. She knew that this time she was on her own to find the answer, to keep her slayer alive. She had never felt so alone, so desperately alone.

Since her arrival in the waiting room, Willow had been churning her mind on how to help Kennedy. She had to do something. The problem was that she wasn't sure what exactly was wrong with her brunette. The ER personnel could only tell her that "Your friend had very severe injuries requiring immediate surgery." She had briefly felt her slayer's energy and knew she was hurt. She had last seen Kennedy in an old converted mission where they had prepared to do battle with a Chamador domedo demon. But her slayer had frantically, and uncharacteristically, changed details at the last minute and sent her away. "Just go now, Will…NOW…I can do this by myself." Those were the last words she heard from her brunette. Kennedy had been confident her plan would be successful and the witch trusted her completely, even after the plan change. Willow now knew something had gone terribly wrong. Instead of being safe in the arms of her witch, the slayer was now struggling for her life.

Kennedy had already been sent to surgery by the time Willow rushed into the emergency room. 'If I'd only been faster, I could have seen her…touched her.' The redhead was certain that if she had only held her hand or touched an arm, she would have known the extent of her injuries, would have felt her emotions. Then she would have known what to do. Willow chastised herself for hesitating when she first 'felt' her slayer's pain hit her, even though, in actuality, there had been no speck of wavering on her part. But there was no way the witch was going to allow Kennedy's dire circumstances to be anything other than something she tragically helped bring to fruition. The witch knew she had to connect with her lover.

Willow walked over to the corner where not long before she had cried for the life of her slayer. She now had a different mission. She sat down, knees bent and eyes closed. She bowed her head to her knees and laid her hands, palms down, flat on the floor. The witch cleared her mind and concentrated. She used the power and skill she had developed while in Sao Paulo, tapped into every point of energy taught to her by the local medicine men and witches that she had come to know by name. She focused and let her mind seek out her slayer. Astral projection was a talent that the witch had discovered and nurtured since her arrival in this magickal country. The ethereal aura of the witch quickly found her slayer. Willow's astral form could see Kennedy in the operating room, the doctors deftly working at putting the broken pieces of her brunette back together. It was as if the witch was of the room, not in it. She saw the brunette there but was also aware of her essence. Though unconscious, Willow could feel that her lover's body was ravaged and that she was terribly frightened, and felt alone. Willow saw the wound, peered into the gaping flesh to the parts of her slayer that had been torn. The witch could sense that life was leaving her brunette as fast as her blood was seeping from her torn veins. The redhead was terrified at the sight stinging her eyes and the feeling burning her mind. Willow had seen it all; she'd seen enough. She jerked herself back to reality, to the waiting room. The words were barely audible but full of regret, "I should have been here when they brought you in."

The emergency doors burst open, and a gurney swept in being pushed by a well trained Sao Paulo paramedic who was also holding up an IV bag. Another paramedic was compressing an air bag which had been placed over the nose and mouth of Kennedy who lay unconscious on the gurney. There were numerous blood soaked bandages taped to the brunette's stomach. As the men brought her in, they were yelling out stats to the waiting ER physicians and staff.

And so was the beginning of Kennedy's first visit to a hospital since the one after the destruction of Sunnydale almost one year earlier.

"We have a severe stab wound to the abdomen with possible spinal injury," the lead paramedic yelled as he led the gurney into a waiting triage room. "BP's eighty over fifty, heart rate fifty-four, respiration's weak and shallow. She's been unconscious for ten minutes and we've already given her two bags of saline and a pint of O neg." If it weren't for the drama being played out in Portuguese, one would have thought the scene directly out of the hit show E.R. But this was real life.

Once in the triage room, the doctors and staff transferred Kennedy to the examining table and immediately went to work. It was like a ballet. Every move seemed choreographed; synchronized actions of medical personnel who appeared to know what others wanted before requested. There was never a stumble or missed beat. Monitors were wheeled over, needles inserted and instruments transferred between gloved hands with hypnotic fluidity. While one doctor was engaged in stabilizing her vitals, others searched for the source and extent of the bleeding. A nurse removed the compresses hiding the slayer's mid section.

The gash in Kennedy's stomach began another episode of profuse bleeding. The lead physician ordered "four more pints of O neg and get me a type and cross--stat." They continued working, clamping off skin, wiping off the area with gauze to get a clearer picture of the extent of the injuries. The doctor saw a massive deep wound which had cut into the small intestine, creating seepage of intestinal fluids and the worry for sepsis.

Noone in the room noticed the slight twitch of Kennedy's hand. It wasn't until the brunette tried to grab the oxygen mask off her face that they realized she was conscious. Kennedy felt something was wrong and tried to get up. "She's awake!...hold her down, don't let her move…she'll make the injury worse," the doctor screamed as he pushed the slayer down by her shoulders; he couldn't believe how much strength she had. It was all he could do to keep her on the table. He looked at brown eyes that were now wide open, dilated and looking directly at him. "Miss, don't move…you're badly injured…you need to stay still."

Kennedy was disoriented; she didn't know where she was. But she knew she was in a lot of pain. "Ahhhh," she cried as a wave of intense throbbing shot through her gut. "We're giving you medicine for the pain…but you need to be still," the doctor responded while trying to assess what action was needed first.

"W-W-ill…w-where's Willow?" The words were soft and slurring, the pain medication already working its way through her blood stream. Upon seeing that the patient spoke English, the doctor reiterated his plea, this time not in Portuguese. He then glanced at his team to see if any knew anything about the name spoken; they all answered with a shake of the head. "Is Wil…Willow here?" Kennedy was still trying to grab at her mask. But her arm dropped by her side, the medicine close to taking over her whole body. "W-w…what about…m-m-my…m…mu…." Kennedy fell unconscious before the thought could be spoken.

The ER personnel had no time to discuss the possible requests that their patient had been trying to express, because new bleeding commenced. They found a nick to the artery going into the right kidney. "We've got to stop the bleeding now…she can't lose any more fluid," the doctor commanded. Medical personnel worked with lightening speed, trying to control the bleeding, to get the girl stable enough to make the elevator ride to the operating room. Vessels were clamped off and sewn up, the tear to the kidney's artery stitched up as a stop gap measure. The portable sonogram showed swelling around the spine. It was impossible to conclude whether the instrument that tore through the girl's body had also damaged the spinal cord. Prick tests quickly performed on Kennedy's feet were negative-no reaction, no movement. One of the nurses shook her head at the bad news.

"This woman needs surgery and she needs it now…tell OR we're coming up!" With that, the gurney with the almost lifeless Kennedy was pushed out the room, accompanied by a nurse and one of the doctors along with the IVs and monitors that rhythmically beeped to prove the slayer was still alive.

And just that quickly, emergency room number seven was silent again. The nurses and doctors started to leave, their discarded scrubs and gloves splattered with blood, used swabs and compresses sprawled on the floor waiting for cleanup by maintenance. The event was like triage on the frontline of any war.

The last two nurses made their way out the door. "It looked like someone tried to cut that girl in half." The nurse's voice was filled with horror and shock.

"If I were a religious person, I'd pray for a miracle," the other said sincerely.

From the moment they stepped foot on the plane back to LA, Willow saw a change in Kennedy. Her girlfriend had become more relaxed, lighter and happier. Her walk seemed more confident, if that was possible, and the weight of battle, family and responsibility had been lifted off her shoulders to a large degree. Willow liked this look on her girl. Her slayer was happy and so was she.

Their last day in New York was spent hanging out with Emma and organizing the boxes of belongings that were going with them to LA. There were mostly clothes and weapons, of which neither thought an unusual combination, unlike the airline counter attendant who asked about the contents of those boxes while processing them for baggage. Kennedy felt slightly penitent for having belongings in the first place while her redhead had lost everything. Kennedy knew that her boxes held her past in the jewelry, pictures and clothes contained therein. Willow had none of that now. Her life rested at the bottom of a giant hole. The redhead's previous life was like a dream with no tangible proof of it being real. There only remained the objects her parents had taken from their home when they left Sunnydale before the implosion, and those were the memories precious to them not their daughter. The witch had nothing of her past except her memories. Kennedy knew she could do nothing to regain those lost items for her redhead, but she was determined to help the woman make a new and lasting life full of concrete evidence of its existence.

When they returned to the hotel, after being picked up at the airport by Andrew, they found that Xander was already back from his visit. "Now I remember why I got outta that house in the first place." He explained through frustrated voice. His parents fought like expected, and drank…like usual. After two days, he'd had enough and came back to LA. "They may be my parents…but their lunatics…only to be taken in small doses." Xander was glad to be back with the Scoobies, his real family.

"Are Buffy and Dawn still in San Francisco?" Willow asked Giles. She and Kennedy had already been to their room and put as much of Kennedy's things away as was practical. As soon as that was done, the two went the main lobby where Giles and Xander were already sitting.

"Yes, Willow, they are. Buffy called yesterday and said that they were staying until Wednesday."

Willow felt that had to be good news, that maybe father and daughters were reconnecting in a healthy, mature way. She wondered if there was something in the air.

"I can think of a few things," muffled Kennedy under her breath as she slightly leaned into Willow.

"Well, I was thinking you could start doing locater spells for new slayers, so we can establish a listing…for when we're ready to actually start making contact." Giles knew the next few months would involve long hours, hard work and the assistance of everyone. He wanted as much of a head start as he could get. Locating the U.S. slayers was a logical place to start.

He was still trying to find and communicate with all remaining watchers, including those who had retired or who were in training. He was even trying to locate those who had been fired or quit from the organization. He knew that with the new reality of multiple slayers, there would be an ever increasing need for watchers. He didn't want to re-establish the old Council; there had been too many times that the ways of old had led to conflict and improper actions. He wanted new blood to run through the veins of the council, eyes that would look at the slayer world from a new perspective. There would be a less omnipotent presence to the council; it would act in concert with the slayers, not in dominion over them. Watchers would be teachers, not masters; slayers, true students and not slaves to the antiquated ways of the past. To do this, Giles knew he needed to work outside the box, challenging the existing watchers out of their preconceived mode of thought. That's why Giles was contacting those who were no longer part of the council. Whether thrown out or resigned on their own accord, those individuals would have caused discord within the Watcher's Council ranks. Giles wanted to know why.

"You don't think we should wait for Buffy?" Willow asked, her voice sounding as if their loyalty to Buffy was being questioned.

"Will, you're the one doing the locating…Buffy doesn't need to be here for that." Kennedy heard the uncertainty in her redhead's voice. Willow never liked doing anything without the approval of the blonde slayer. It was something Kennedy wished her redhead would realize was no longer needed.

Willow glanced at the girlfriend and knew she was right; it just felt strange to begin the monumental task that she knew was before them without Buffy leading the way. "That's true, I guess…ok, Giles where do we start?"

So began the first tiny steps to what would one day become the new Watchers Council and Slayer Network. While Buffy and Dawn were away and after their return, Willow performed a variation of locator spells to find new slayers. It was tedious, frustrating and often unsuccessful at first. Willow could sense the essence of the newly empowered slayers as parts of a whole but only upon deep concentration. It took her many days, and much help from Giles, to begin to be able to separate the ball of essences into distinct individual buds of energy. It was like shedding a pomegranate and separating out its seeds. But being able to individualize was only part victory for unless the witch located the point of origin of the essence, there was no ability to find the slayers. The witch was used to performing regular locator spells, ones where the identity of the individual was known. All it took was a personal item or intense concentration and Willow could find, with pinpoint accuracy, the sought after person. But her present task was very different. There were no names, no connection to the unknown slayers. There was only the internal sense of the slayers acquired after the spell with the scythe. For Willow, it was like starting from scratch. Again, Willow spent days focusing and concentrating her energy into laser sharp precision of a projected mental graph of the slayers whereabouts. She initially reached out to the surrounding areas of Los Angeles, then California. As she gained proficiency and confidence, she widened her search, expanding her power like a mushroom cloud over the entire United States. Over the course of five weeks, the redheaded witch was able to locate forty-six slayers including those that they already knew about.

Willow's work was not done without a toll. After the first initial sessions, the witch had become exhausted by the end of the day; so depleted that she didn't want to eat and needed to sleep almost as soon as she was done. Kennedy quickly and emphatically determined that the witch's pace was too physically demanding and made Willow slow down.

"Will…you can't push yourself so hard…give yourself a chance to adjust to this."

"A few days here or there won't matter…you getting sick because of this will."

The redhead saw that Kennedy was right, especially when the same sentiment was shared by the rest of the Scoobies. She wanted to be the powerful witch capable of all spells great and small. She realized that was still a dream; she wondered if she would ever get there.

Willow did adjust her witchery. She worked nine to five with an hour for lunch, Monday through Friday, much like any other 'working girl.' Pacing herself did help; she was able to concentrate deeper during 'work' hours. Each day that she walked into the hotel room Giles got just for this purpose, Willow laughed to herself that this the first full time 'job' she'd ever had. The room was for the solitude she needed for concentration. In the beginning, Giles spent numerous hours with her there, helping the witch to gain the focus she needed. Over time, however, Willow was mastering her skill and the watcher was able to relegate his time to reinstituting the Watcher's Council and setting up locations in specific areas throughout the world.

During non-working hours and weekends, Kennedy took care of her witch. During the week, the brunette made sure Willow ate healthy and that she didn't have any other distractions to trouble her mind. There was a foot massage almost nightly, many of which led to passionate love making. The first night of the new routine, Kennedy had questioned the propriety of their extra curricular activity, "You sure this won't wear you out for tomorrow, babe?...Don't wanna be sapping your locating powers away." Kennedy fought long and hard before asking her witch that question. She wanted her girl every night and felt guilty for not caring if a tired Willow meant that unknown slayers would stay unknown for a few extra days.

Green eyes met brown and the witch confidently said, "I'll be fine…and there's no way I'm missing out on our girl on girl action." Kennedy was quite pleased that her witch felt the same way as she.

Weekends were a different matter altogether. That's when everyone let lose, even Giles in his own way. It was decided that Saturday and Sunday were no holds barred. The gang got to be just who they were, young adults who wanted to enjoy life. They went shopping, sightseeing and to the beach. They went clubbing almost every Friday and Saturday night. The LA night scene was theirs for the taking…and they took. It was the first reprieve the core Scoobies had had in years. They knew it wouldn't last long, so they made the most of it. Outings were usually en masse, Dawn following where ever they could get her in. Some nights Buffy hung out with Dawn and did 'sisterly' things. Xander cruised around with Willow and Kennedy, who always managed to get into clubs despite her being underage, when Buffy was otherwise engaged. Kennedy didn't mind sharing Willow during all of this. She enjoyed getting to know Buffy and Xander and marveled at the closeness of the friends. Even Faith got into the action. That is after her 'action' with Robin was consummated. She'd usually show up at a designated club several hours after the rest had gotten there, some times with Robin but usually without. She'd have a big shit-eating grin on her face, making it obvious to all the reason for her delay. No one chided her about her turncoat demeanor. Everyone was just glad that she was happy; they were finally beginning to see the real Faith behind the 'tough act' and leather pants.

During this time the slayer and the witch were able to find quiet, alone time. They'd occasionally sneak off for an intimate dinner or walk in the park. They were in the throngs of the beginning of their relationship when everything they did together felt wonderful and new and special. A simple walk down Hollywood Boulevard turned into an involved conversation about their favorite male and female actors, complete with detailed synopses as to the reasons for the choices. Coffee at a donut shop became stories of childhood shenanigans. Everything they did led to a connection to something in their past, a story to be told that allowed more of their personalities to shine through. The witch and the slayer were getting to know each other, the way normal people do, people not dusting vamps or stopping an apocalypse. Kennedy and Willow were two women in love, finding out more reasons to justify their mutual attraction.

During the first couple weeks, there was no training, no patrolling and no slaying of any kind. Angel had stopped by the hotel late on the initial day the entire gang arrived. Everyone was getting moved into their rooms. Only Giles stood in the lobby. The watcher and the vampire had a conversation about the immediate future of the new slayers and Scooby gang. Giles concern for the mental state of his charges sounded like a trumpet to Angel. The vampire could tell the Englishman wanted a reprieve for his courageous band of demon fighters, serious down time so that they could clear their heads and enjoy life before the next great mission which he knew would come soon enough, because it always did. He had never seen his young friends truly get to be young; he wanted that if just for a little while. He sure as hell knew they all deserved it. It didn't take an anvil hitting Angel on the head for him to understand Giles desires and the reasons for them. He told the watcher in no uncertain terms that the services of the Scooby gang would not be needed, at least for the near future. He and his crew were well in charge of the LA scene, demons and the like were kept in tow. The vampire made sure to express those sentiments when Buffy and the others made their way back to the lobby after checking into their rooms.

"Are you sure Angel? We are slayers…this is what we do," questioned Buffy to her former lover.

"Ok then…looks like we've got us a little vacation." Buffy outwardly seemed upset not to have the slayer routine. But in actuality, the blonde slayer couldn't have been more relieved. She had slayed enough; she wanted to be a regular woman for once, for a little while.

That was the routine for the gang. Just to keep from being bored, the three slayers spent time during the day in the hotel's workout room training, doing light hand to hand combat and lifting weights. The younger slayer worked at becoming comfortable and in tune with her new strength and other slayer abilities. During the Final Battle, she felt that surge fighting the ueber vamps; the power coursing through her felt so right, like it was always meant to be inside her. Training, she watched as her body got stronger and faster. The slayer marveled at the changes to her physique. She had thought she was in pretty good shape before; now, her physical prowess was unbelievable. Her endurance was almost limitless. To test her boundaries for exhaustion, Kennedy started running, when she wasn't doting on Willow's welfare. There were days she ran a marathoner's distance just for fun.

After Willow began to find the USA slayers, the sisters-in-arms started to get restless. There was too much slayer inactivity and Buffy, Faith and Kennedy were beginning to discuss night patrolling. Despite having a great time being regular people, the slayers knew they still had a responsibility to the world. They had had their vacation and now it was time to get back to work.

So they started nightly patrols of the cemeteries and other likely vampire hangouts. They always went in a pair, alternating patrolling nights. Buffy didn't really have a difficult time with the arrangement; she had paired up with Riley on many occasion and quickly got into the swing of things. Though Kennedy had never patrolled on her own, she initially wanted to go it alone, to prove herself to the other slayers. She didn't want help or someone watching out for her back; she'd prepared for this for eleven years and wanted nothing more than to test her wings. After much heated discussion with Willow, where she tried to ease the worries of her redhead regarding her patrolling alone, the brunette caved. Despite knowing that she could handle herself just fine, she didn't want to put any added stress on the witch. Kennedy started her slayer career with partner in tow and actually was somewhat thankful to have an experienced slayer around from whom to get pointers – although she would never have admitted that. Secretly, she waited for the day she could fight on her own and show the demon world what she really had inside. For now, she was satisfied that the slayer arrangement made Willow less nervous knowing she wasn't out there alone.

Faith, on the other hand, was a problem. She was the lone wolf, always had been, and to a strong degree still wanted to be. It had become her nature to be alone and even though she was in the sisterhood now, even though she cared for these people, she still liked being on her own. It was quite the adjustment, and on more than one occasion she just left her companion to patrol on her own, always making some lame excuse later for the 'unintended' separation. Instead of pushing her, Buffy and Kennedy gave the former rogue slayer space to find her own way back into the fold. They kept an eye out for her when on patrol and let her distance herself when necessary. Eventually, Faith was able to shed the lone slayer attitude; she stopped being the stray cat that no one could touch.

The patrols went on without incident. There were no close calls, no severe injuries. Bruises from falling against a headstone and scratches from rose bushes were the extent of the injuries. Everyone commented on how lame the LA vamps and demons seemed compared to Sunnydale. "Well, I guess that's what happens when you move to LA…ya get soft," the blonde slayer said sarcastically.

The daily lives of the extended demon fighting family continued, keeping busy in a non-impending apocalyptic sort of way. They all knew it would end eventually, but kept that fact stowed away in the back of their minds. For the present they were living the most normal of lives they had ever experienced.

The slaying and locating routine continued and so did the lives of the Sunnydale refugees. On June twenty-ninth, they had a celebration for Kennedy's twentieth birthday.

"Damn, K…I thought you were younger than that…" Faith said, then looked at Willow apologetically, "…Sorry Red, …I thought you were a cradle robber."

As Kennedy had wanted, the event was low key and mostly private. This was her first birthday with Willow and she wanted to spend it with her. Kennedy explained to Willow that she had grown up with lavish parties, every rich family trying to out do the next. She went to birthday parties held in swanky hotels where parents acquired top notch entertainment. This year, the beginning of her new life, she wanted a different direction. The brunette slayer was truly happy and Willow was the reason. That's what turning twenty meant to her. An early birthday lunch was a get together for all, with cake, presents, and joking. The rest of the day was solely for the witch and slayer.

Willow had it all planned out. They spent the afternoon at the beach, taking in the sun and talking. They walked along the water's edge, hand in hand, discussing the strange movements of the funny looking sea birds. Sometimes they just moved in silence. It was a good kind of silence, the two women knowing they didn't need words to feel connected. Late afternoon, the two lovers went back to the hotel for part two of Kennedy's birthday. The brunette thought the time perfect for some physical contact, but Willow would have no part of it.

"Awwe…come on Will…it's my birthday…" The brunette half heartedly pleaded.

"Be patient…good things come to those who wait." The way her witch said it made Kennedy tingle all over.

"Yes dear," she said mockingly like a dutiful spouse. But Kennedy knew, for Willow, she'd wait a lifetime.

Next came dinner. Willow told Kennedy on their return to the hotel to "dress up nice" for their meal. The brunette did just that. She had on white linen tailored pants with matching suit vest both of which followed her curves perfectly. The fit of the vest, with its plunging neckline, left little to the imagination in terms of Kennedy's cleavage. She wore opened toed shoes that showed off her recently pedicured toes. Her hair was tousled and flowed across her shoulders. Kennedy was never one for much make-up. Truth was she never felt she needed much. This night, she had on light blush, mascara and Willow's favorite color lipstick. She wore a simple gold necklace and teardrop earrings. When Willow saw her, she thought to herself how it looked like her brunette had just stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine. Willow was mesmerized by Kennedy's natural beauty. She almost decided to cancel her plans and spend the rest of the night ravaging her slayer. But she kept her cravings in check and simply went up behind her slayer, putting her arms around her. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," lips whispered in her lover's ear. "I'm nothing compared to you," Kennedy whispered back.

While Kennedy got ready, so did the witch. She wanted to look her best for her girl. She did. When Kennedy came out of the bathroom ready to go, she lost her breath at the sight of her redhead. Willow was wearing a wispy silk patterned dress. It showed her perfectly freckled alabaster shoulders and arms. The dress fell to above mid thigh and hugged the witch's subtle form. She had on delicate shoes. Her hair was pinned up accentuating the elegant line of her neck. Make-up brought out those dazzling emerald eyes. The only accessory was a pair of diamond, real of course-Kennedy had insisted, stud earrings. To Kennedy, Willow was grace on earth.

The witch led her slayer to a waiting taxi which took them to a very secluded, very nice Italian restaurant. "You remembered I like Italian." That little gesture meant the world to Kennedy, especially since she knew such food was not on her witch's top ten list. As it turned out, Willow not only liked Italian, she loved it, that is once she found out that the cuisine wasn't all pasta and heavy sauces. The two women enjoyed an intimate dinner together, once more sharing stories of their past. When the waiter questioned them about dessert, Willow quickly said "No thank you," and seductively looked at Kennedy. The slayer surmised dessert had already been planned and she was certain she'd enjoy much more whatever her redhead had cooked up.

By the time the birthday girl and her witch returned to the hotel, it was ten thirty. They were giddy and their lustful desires were seeping out as if spawned by the uninhibiting effects of alcohol, even though neither had had a drop to drink. In the elevator, Kennedy couldn't keep her hands off the witch. They barely made it to the door before the brunette took Willow by the arms and leaned her back up against their door. She pressed into the witch, lightly grazing her lips up her neck and to her earlobe. "I love you, Willow….God, how I love you." Those words had become her mantra, her solemn oath. Willow tilted her head to the side, inviting more contact from her lover, taking in her words knowing the genuineness with which they were said. She then looked into chocolate eyes, softly "I love you too, Kennedy…" then more seductively, "…now let's celebrate your birthday."

Kennedy didn't think her fingers could work a room key card and lock so quickly; they were inside, behind closed door in seconds. When Willow turned on the light, Kennedy gasped at the sight before her. There, on the table next to the tv, was a very large arrangement of flowers; dwarf hydrangea, lilies and amaryllis to be exact, of differing color and variety. "How did you…this musta cost…" a startled slayer questioned.

"First, Xander helped with the flowers. He put them in here after we left for dinner…You like?"

"Are you kidding?...This is amazing. These are my favorite…How'd you know…I never said anything about this." Kennedy was truly awe struck by the gesture.

"Your bedroom back in New York…it had a couple picture frames with pressed flowers…and when we were going through your stuff, I saw some pictures of you in a garden. All the flowers I saw were these…I figured the odds were in my favor…As to your other concern, turns out slayer locating is a paying job."

Kennedy went to her witch and gave her a heart felt kiss. The slayer's fondness for flowers, and in particular those before her, was borne from heart ache, a silver lining to a dark cloud brought about by strife with her father. Her summer in Mexico had been taken by the brunette as a punishment for her sexuality rather than a reward for graduating high school. She spent the initial time there moping around, only gathering enough effort to go to the beach and watch the oiled up tanned women walk by unknowing of her sinful thoughts. The family she stayed with were fine people who had to have been informed to expect her unmotivated behavior because they left her alone, never pushing her to join their activities.

Within a short time, Kennedy started walking the back streets and old dirt roads of the town. One day her travels led her near a small yard with a shot gun style house and side flower garden. A middle aged woman sat on the front porch swing. As Kennedy walked by, she was startled when she heard, "Hey, girlie…want something cold to drink?" The brunette was first taken back because she hadn't noticed the woman there; she was more intrigued because the question was in English. "Umm…excuse me?" she responded; she wasn't quite sure how to act.

"You're thirsty aren't ya?" The woman acted like she was already friends with Kennedy. The woman got out of her chair and walked down to the low fence that separated her yard from the dirt road. She just stared at the brunette. "You ever gonna answer me?" Kennedy came out of her slight daze. "Yeah…I guess I am a little thirsty." And that was the beginning of how Kennedy came to have an affection for flowers. Kennedy knew her and flowers seemed a strange mix from first glance, but the truth was otherwise.

The woman's name was Sophia Lopez and Kennedy could tell right away she was American. "How'd you know I spoke English?" was her first question. "Please…your clothes, for one…and no one wanders around this part of town except someone who doesn't live here." Their meeting wasn't purely by chance. Sophia had seen Kennedy in town, looking dejected, lost and lonely. She never saw her with anyone so she surmised there had to be a sad story in there somewhere, though she never asked Kennedy about it. She merely thought the young girl could use a friend. Kennedy thought the woman was a hoot. She was upfront, opinionated and a free spirit. She had moved to Culiamayas twelve years before upon marrying; she decided to stay after her husband died three years ago. She had never fit in with the fast-paced life style of her birth place, Chicago, Illinois. She instantly felt at home in the balmy, sedated ways of her adopted residence. Sophia felt the need to help the lost, be that stray cats, a man down on his luck or a rejected teenager. The two certainly didn't become 'best buddies'; Kennedy would stop by her house every few days and they'd talk, Sophia telling Kennedy the history, good and bad, of the area. And there was the garden.

It was Sophia's pride and joy. She proudly showed it off to Kennedy, identifying in great detail every variety of flowers she had. She told the brunette the delicate balance needed for some of her beauties, how it took patience and finesse. There were the science lectures, the woman explaining the exact nutrients and mixture necessary to coax every brilliant color out of her stemmed family. Kennedy began to see the marvel of nature, the entire circle of life, in one tiny flower. She came to appreciate a flower's ability to force its way into life, pushing itself through the dirt to the sun's rays. The process of sunlight to food to energy fascinated her more than it ever had in a classroom. Kennedy saw flora as symbols of graceful power, slight and delicate in appearance yet storing within immeasurable strength. Sophia had turned a dreaded summer into a life's lesson.

Looking at the flowers in their room now, the wonderful memories of that time came back to Kennedy. She had only Willow to thank for that. Knowing that Willow had no understanding of what she had done, and realizing this would be one more story she would gladly share with her witch, the slayer walked over to her and pulled her into a warm embrace. "You have no idea how much this means to me." Kennedy felt Willow's smile on her neck.

Willow backed up and said with a big grin, "There's more." The 'more' consisted of a light vanilla crème brule with raspberry sauce dessert and chilled champagne which was on a rolling table hidden off to the side. The two ate dessert looking out over the night skyline of the city, the rolling hills of Beverly Hills in the background. After dessert, and while still sitting at the table by the window, Willow reached behind her and brought out two presents. She placed them on the table in front of Kennedy. "Happy birthday, baby…the little one's from me and the other one, your dad sent." Kennedy was intrigued. She opened her father's first. It was a first run print, personally signed copy of 'The Godwulf Manuscript', her favorite author Robert Parker's first novel. She was impressed and gladdened by the effort this had taken on her father's part.

She then opened Willow's gift. It was a gold chain necklace with an art deco style butterfly attached. The body of the butterfly was a dark yellow stone, the wings gripped crossing arrows from underneath.

"The butterfly in witchcraft represents transformation…a new phase of life…you as a slayer...and us, together…The stone is citrine from South America…like part of your family…and the arrows are a Celtic symbol for a warrior and protector, which you are…Emma said your family was part Irish." Willow studied the Brunette for a sign of approval. She had never put so much thought into a gift before. She wanted her first present to Kennedy to be truly intimate, and connected to the both of them. She had the piece made especially for her slayer.

Kennedy was speechless. She held the necklace in her hand and pondered how her witch could have gotten her the most perfect gift she'd ever received. The piece was her, Willow and them. Words failed her; only her sparkling brown eyes and wide smile let Willow know the gift was most appreciated. The brunette took the necklace she was wearing off and put the necklace from Willow on. She got out of her chair and went to the redhead who turned her chair out from under the table. Kennedy kneeled in front of the witch and placed her head down in her lap, arms around her waist. "Thank you," she said softly. She then raised herself up and leaned in to give her witch a thank you kiss. It started soft, expressing the gratitude Kennedy had for the redhead, but then grew in intensity. Soon, the two were in a heated passionate endeavor.

With the caressing of their tongues, the warm, gentle feeling of the moment was replaced with immediate need for physical intimacy. The feeling overpowered the lovers, and they began straining and pushing for more contact, more skin. Kennedy instinctively moved to unzip Willow's dress, but her plan was thwarted when she felt a hand on her arm. "This is your night…" That's all that was said but the brunette understood the message. The two women stood up and Willow walked Kennedy to the bed. She sat her on its edge, and then proceeded to…slowly…undress for her lover. Kennedy could feel her insides ache and her breath turn ragged with each seductive move by her witch. It was all she could do to stay still. When Willow was done peeling off her clothes, standing naked before her slayer, she took Kennedy by the hand and stood her up. The witch then began the process all over again, this time Kennedy was the target of her wandering hands. She grazed her fingertips down the brunette's body, sending shivers to the woman who stood a slave to her lover's touches. Willow's movements were slow and calculated to exact a slight moan from her brunette. She succeeded. Kennedy was reeling from the sensation. Each touch made her muscles recoil in pleasure. When all clothes were finally relegated to a pile on the floor, Willow's searching hands were replaced with her just as inquisitive mouth as she laid her slayer on the bed.

Willow made love to Kennedy that night like she had been inside the girl her whole life, keyed into every little motion or sound as if she could feel exactly what her lover was experiencing. As if it was happening to her. She made Kennedy writhe, then moan and finally bite her lip to stifle a scream when Willow took her over the edge. Kennedy had become her canvass and she Picasso, creator and master of her trade. It was the first time, ever, that Willow truly left all inhibitions behind. Kennedy had brought out her base feral cravings and she wallowed in them.

The lovers eventually drifted off to sleep entangled, Kennedy with the thought that she had found her everything and Willow knowing she had a wondrous life ahead because of the girl in her arms.

"Oh my God…I don't think I can move my legs." It was nine the next morning and Kennedy was still feeling the wonderful effects from her birthday 'celebration' with Willow. "Remind me to have birthdays more often," she said stretching naked in bed while watching a fully dressed Willow brush her hair by the dresser mirror.

"Oh, I don't think we need excuses, now do we…," the witch responded eyeing Kennedy in the mirror. The redhead was astonished at her sexual appetite and came to the conclusion that knowledge and school weren't the only things she had a thirst for; she had become passionate for sex…sex with Kennedy.

"Definitely agree…now help me out of bed. The meeting starts in a half hour and because of you, Red, I'm going to be late." The sarcasm in the brunette's voice was obvious.

Willow complied and went to offer her lover a hand up. Instead, Willow got pulled down on top of the slayer, Kennedy's lips instantly attacking her throat and underneath her chin. The witch teasingly laughed, "What about the meeting?" As the brunette's lips met the witch's, she replied, "So, we'll both be late."

The witch and the slayer hurried off the elevator and briskly walked to the room that had been Willow's 'locating' office. Walking in after Xander opened the door, they noticed everyone looking at their watches or the clock on the nightstand…9:48 am.

"Oops, sorry we're late…umm…had alarm clock malfunctions," Willow said trying to sound convincing. From the faces of those in the room, she failed miserably. Kennedy just smiled, standing behind her. After they sat down in chairs by the window, Giles continued his speech that had been interrupted by the late arrivals.

"As I was saying…during the last several weeks I've been making connections with the remaining watchers. We've been able to track down the Council's finances. It seems there's an adequate sum at our disposal to set up a new council." The watcher's voice was gaining momentum. "We have been able to connect with present Council members, along with others who have had experience with watching, all around the world…I've had preliminary talks with all of them about establishing several international bases to help us in locating the new slayers."

Everyone in the group knew that finding the newly empowered slayers would be top priority. They had gladly given up the responsibility of the details to Giles. Their vacation over, the Scooby gang now knew they were back to the grind, but with a different twist. Demon fighting would be supplemented with slayer finding. They also knew that what Giles was about to propose would mean a life altering change to each and every one of them.

"I…and the other council members have given great thought to the most efficient way to go about this. Willow has found the slayers here and so we need to start contacting them, and we need to get back in touch with the slayers that went home. The coven members I've talked to said that Willow won't need to locate all the new slayers herself…"

With that said, Willow unconsciously let out a sigh of relief. Her continued role in locating slayers had weighed heavy on the witch. She felt responsible for them, for creating them. Because of her mystical connection to them that she felt the day of the spell, she had thought she might be the only one who could find them. She was pleased to be wrong.

"…The new slayers' powers are like beacon signals to the mystics…" the watcher continued, "…stationed in the proper location, they should be able to find the new slayers in their designated area." The watcher looked at Willow, "Of course they won't have the direct line like you Willow…but they should eventually be able to locate them." The witch smiled back. Giles took a deep breath and started the next phase of the plan. "So, now we need to send people out to designated areas around the world to make contact with the girls as we find them…"

Giles then discussed how the council had determined the areas that should be the bases of operation. The watcher said how they anticipated that the operation should take at least several months. He also said that the Scoobies should be the ones to make contact with the slayers. He listed the places without making any kind of suggestion as to who should go to which location. He knew this meant the temporary disbanding of the Scooby gang, the separation of friends who had fought side by side for over seven years. He was not about to belittle that by assuming control and deciding their individual futures. The discussion after Giles was finished was sedate and to the point, the friends also knew what their futures held. They tried to be light hearted at times, but quickly fell back into seriousness. Faith was the first to state her position.

"Well, looks like I'm going to Cleveland and get things going with the slayers here…don't think a fugitive has much of a chance getting a passport." Upon their arrival in LA, Giles had contacted Angel about 'fixing' Faith's prison issue. It was true that Faith had been broken out of the Northern California Women's Correctional Facility by Wesley and Gunn and that she still had six years to her sentence. But Giles knew that she was just as indispensable to the mission against the First as Buffy or Willow. She too had also helped save the world. And she helped save Kennedy from the Truxdeiro. Faith had earned her freedom. Angel didn't need to be asked twice; he also owed his life to the reformed rogue slayer. "I'll get it taken care of Giles. Just give me some time," the vampire pledged.

"That's best, Faith, until we can get your situation resolved." The watcher smiled at the woman, knowing that she really had turned her life around and was trying to do the right thing. It was also decided that Robin would assist Faith with the US branch. That left the overseas assignments.

"Well, I've always wanted to see the pyramids," Xander chided. It was decided he would station in Cairo, Egypt. His initial territory would include the northern part of the African continent. Xander would be accompanied by one of Giles fellow watchers, a man by the name of Richard Welmsport. Xander was told he spoke the necessary languages and was well trained in combat.

Buffy and Dawn took Florence, Italy, although their territory was to include other parts of Europe. Dawn would attend an American school there to continue her high school education. Giles was to return to England to formally set up the headquarters of the new Watcher's Council. It was to be his position to establish the training program for the new slayers and to develop some type of system for assigning slayers to watchers. With the large number of slayers, there could no longer be, at least for the foreseeable future, one watcher for each slayer.

For Kennedy, the decision was easy and she kept whispering in her witch's ear, "B-r-r-a-z-z-i-l-l." The irony wasn't lost on the brunette. The darkest part of her life, that related to her mother, had roots partly based in Brazil. As she had told Willow during one of their many talks, her mother's side of the family was Brazilian and Kennedy remembered visits, some faintly, to her grandparents. What stood in her mind was the impression of enjoying her time there. In fact, the slayer occasionally found herself intrigued by the place and its language. She discreetly, out of the sight of her father, learned about the country and half heartedly tackled its language. Kennedy had the strong feeling that she and Willow would flourish there. Willow could hear the excitement in her tone, but part of her felt scared knowing Brazil was very far away and had a very different language. Then Kennedy quietly said, "sol e divertimento…that means 'sun 'n fun'…" Willow turned around and stared surprised into brown eyes. "You know Portuguese, too?" With everyone now looking at her, Kennedy shrugged her shoulders. "Enough to keep me out of trouble."

"I guess that means we're going to Brazil," the redhead said, the decision made. To be precise, Sao Paulo, the city proper, in the state of Sao Paulo, Brazil. "We're going to Rio," Kennedy's hushed words to her witch were said like a child going to Disney World. Willow could feel Kennedy bubble over with excitement. The witch would also be in charge of locating the slayers in that country, knowing that she'd be able to scribe the location most efficiently.

"What about me?" Andrew was odd man out. Giles had pondered about what to do with the young man. He sought out the Scoobies' opinion of the ex-villian, and though they all thought him a pain in the ass, they could tell he wasn't the same person he was before with Warren and Jonathan. He had left his bad boy days behind, trying to repent for taking the life of his friend. Giles decided that the sci-fi fetished nerd would be allowed to train as an assistant, a would be runner, for the new Council. If all went well, he would be a liaison between the Scooby members and the Council.

"I can't believe I'm saying this…but if you want Andrew, you can come to England with me to train as an assistant." Giles raised his eye brows and shook his head as he said it.

"You mean like a watcher in training…cool!..." Giles had made Andrew's day…and year.

Assignments decided, Giles then gave the time table. "Everything should be in place within the next several days for us to head to our destinations. I think those of us with passports can leave on Friday; otherwise, as soon as your passport comes in." His statement fell like a ton of bricks. There was now an actual day, an ending to the group. The excitement of the upcoming trips was buried by the undercurrent of sadness each member had, knowing that saying good-bye was only several days away. After a few more minutes of conversation, the group broke up, each going back to their rooms, promising they'd meet for dinner.

"You ok with this, Red?" Willow had been very quiet on their way back to their room and Kennedy was afraid she talked the redhead into a decision she didn't want.

"Yeah…I guess…it's just a lot to take in…ya know. I've been around Buffy and Xander for so long…it feels weird knowing that we're gonna be so far apart."

Kennedy was trying to feel sympathetic to her witch, but deep down the brunette was completely elated with this decision. It was going to be just her and Willow, side by side, taking on whatever good or evil had to throw at them in Brazil. She didn't quite understand Willow's reluctance and she figured it was because she had never had such close friends. The slayer was glad to be with her love, instead of by herself.

Pensive green eyes looked into brown, "Just stay close, and I'll be ok." Kennedy gave her witch a smile, "That I can do."

The next several days were spent getting ready for the mass departures. Thanks were given to Angel and his crew, bags packed and good-byes to relatives said. Then came the night before everyone left. The plan was for one last dinner together, to go over last minute details and just spend some time together. They ate, drank, and laughed. The friends shared stories of their past and shared thoughts of their upcoming adventures. No one tried to look or sound sad, even though they all were. The Scoobies tried to remember this wasn't good-bye just so long for now.

After several hours of celebration, the mood softened and got quiet. Buffy, Willow and Xander kept trying not to look at each other. Even Dawn was pensive. Giles excused himself, blaming a 6 am flight as the reason, hugged the Scoobies and shook hands with Robin. "I'll see you at five sharp, Andrew." Giles was still having his misgivings about a flight to London sitting next to the boy. Andrew was the next to go, making a spectacle of himself as he clumsily embraced everyone at the table. Robin looked at Faith and knew it was also time to go. She gave him an 'I'll be there in a few minutes' look. He stood and said his good-byes.

Faith then stared at Kennedy until she caught the attention of the younger slayer. She gave a slight nod of her head. Kennedy just stared back, not understanding. Faith darted her eyes among the remaining members and again nodded her head like she wanted Kennedy to leave the table. This was the last night in LA before the big move, and Kennedy wanted to spend every moment with her Willow. But then the brunette really looked around at the long time friends. She saw that they needed to say good-bye on their own terms and by themselves.

The brunette turned to her witch and said softly, "Will…Faith asked me before if I could help her finish packing. I thought I'd go help her now…ok?" Green eyes stared back with understanding approval of the younger woman's gesture for the old friends. She placed her hand to Kennedy's cheek and leaned in, giving her a light kiss. "Sure…I won't be too long…I'll see you back in the room."

Kennedy and Faith then got up. They both said their good-byes. Faith's farewell to Buffy was an unexpected embrace. "Take care, B…have fun in Italy, and remember, call if you need me…I'll get to you somehow." Buffy just smiled back, "I know you would, Faith…you take care, too." The two women had finally become friends again, the past events of their lives forgiven. Buffy then hugged Kennedy. "I'm gonna miss you…take care of Willow," softly spoken. Kennedy smiled. "With my life…and Buffy?...I'll miss you, too." Kennedy meant it.

Faith and the younger slayer walked away and to the elevators. They got in, Faith pushing the buttons for the third and sixth floors. "You did a good thing back there," Kennedy said to Faith. "Yeah, well, don't let it get around…I still have a reputation." When the elevator doors opened at Kennedy's floor, the slayer walked out, turned to Faith and hesitated, searching for the right words. "Don't say anything, K…" as the doors began to close, Faith put her hand up and gave one wave, "I'll see ya later, kid." The doors shut and the brunette, after a few moments of staring at the closed elevator doors, walked to her room.

There, back at the table, the core friends sat, silent for the longest time. No one wanted to start what would be an ending. Finally, Buffy took the plunge. She looked at her friends and sister. "Well, looks like it's just us…this is so weird."

"I know," agreed Willow. "This isn't like summer vacation or semester break…we're really going off in different directions." Her voice was already sounding slightly shaky.

"Aww...don't think of it as the Scoobies breaking up," Xander said with a laugh, "…we're just doing separate projects for a while…we're like the Beatles."

"No, Xander's right, " the blonde slayer said looking slightly happier. "…we're not ending anything. We're just doing a little job relocation for a while…Besides, we'll call each other all the time…"

"But I'm gonna miss you guys…we've always been together…" Willow's shaky voice turned sad.

"I think it goes without saying, there'll be plenty of missing going around for everyone." Xander too had returned to the land of heartache. Buffy and Dawn followed right behind him with faces filled with resigned melancholy.

The moment had finally seeped its way into the group. Each one at the table contemplated the meaning of the next morning. There would no longer be a Scooby Gang, at least not for many months. There would be no movie night, no shoulders to lean on, no more invisible blanket of safety from friends. They were grown up and now taking on adult responsibilities. The old friends were venturing into the future to see what each was able to learn from life. They talked no more, but got up from their chairs and started hugging each other. Good-byes would be said tonight; no one wanting to handle the emotional departures the next day. They took their time, giving and receiving enough contact to last them through the months apart. They embraced, they smiled and they cried…even Xander. When they'd had enough, they each gave the rest a good-bye smile and headed to their rooms to prepare for the morning flights that awaited them all.

Kennedy was sitting on the bed; the lights were off but the television on, some average HBO movie. She heard the door unlock and then watched as Willow came in slowly and quietly. The brunette didn't make a sound and waited for her witch to decide how the mood would be.

"Hey…you didn't have to wait up…took longer than I thought." Kennedy heard the sadness in her witch's tone. When Willow got closer, the brunette could see she'd been crying.

"That's ok…I just wanted to make sure you were alright." Willow made her way to the bureau and started to undress.

"I took out a pair of pajamas for you." Willow looked at the end of the bed and picked up the clothing. "Thanks…that was nice of you." The redhead went back her deed, almost as if sleepwalking.

"Will?...I'm sorry that you guys don't get to do this together…I know what they mean to you…" Kennedy knew she really didn't fully understand the depth of their friendship; she just wanted to say something…anything, to help console her hurting girl.

Willow finished changing, turned and went over to the bed, sitting next to the slayer. She took Kennedy's hand in hers. Sad green eyes looked into chocolate. "I am going to miss them…but I've got you…without you I wouldn't be able to do this."

The brunette embraced her witch and within a few minutes she heard a deep sigh from the woman. Willow's emotions washed over her for the friends she would miss terribly and for the future she had to face. She had Kennedy; she only hoped she was as ready as her slayer to meet the challenge before them. Both women got under the covers and Kennedy turned off the tv. The slayer kept the witch close, holding her until she fell asleep, until the sadness and apprehension were replaced with dreams of the future.

Continental Airline flight number 593 left Los Angeles International Airport at 12:10 pm heading for Sao Paulo-Guarulhos International Airport. After an uneventful connection in Houston, Texas, the Boeing 767 continued its journey, starting the nine and a half hour second leg of the flight. Willow's uneasiness with flying had subsided only slightly after her flight to New York, and she either held Kennedy's hand or had her hand on to the brunette's arm for a good portion of the initial few hours of that flight. Eventually, she was able to calm down, reading a magazine and watching the in-flight entertainment. After the meal was served, she was even able to take a nap. Overall, the experience wasn't as dreadful as the witch anticipated and she had actually begun to relax when a flight attendant stated over the intercom system that they were thirty minutes outside of the city. As the plane made its approach to the airport, the two women could see Sao Paulo. Willow was awe struck by the size of the place; it was a sprawling metropolis. It seemed to go on forever. Even the more traveled Kennedy was impressed by the view. Though the area still had some remnants of the notorious early morning fog common for that time of year, the plane did not have to be diverted and they landed at 10:55 am, local time. The fourteen hour flight with its five hour time difference would have affected the two women if they hadn't been so excited.

Willow and Kennedy exited the plane and, after going through customs, headed straight for a money change facility. Kennedy had exchanged some dollars for Real, the Brazilian currency, at a bank in LA but felt she needed some more just to be on the safe side. After exchanging an additional three hundred dollars, and cursing the facility for the usurious fee charged, they made their way to 'baggage claim.' Upon getting their luggage, the slayer decided that the experience was dreadful no matter where in the world it occurred. Kennedy then grabbed Willow by the hand, "Let's go see Brazil," the brunette was excited to start her South American adventure. Willow had done some research before they left and found out the best way to get to their apartment would be to take a Blue and White radio taxi. The two women made their way through the expansive airport. It was bustling with activity, people everywhere making their way to appointed destinations. Willow noticed instantly that there was a definite non-American atmosphere to the place. There was more talking and smiling amongst others around them, not the serious natured 'gotta get to the terminal asap' demeanor found on many travelers in U.S. airports. The people seemed more at ease, taking the time to enjoy even the simple pleasure of walking to their flight's gate. The understanding she ingested just from watching passersby, their friendly feeling, instantly began to put her at ease- 'maybe this won't be so hard after all,' she thought to herself.

The redhead and the brunette continued to traverse their way through the crowd of travelers who were jabbering in an undecipherable language that Willow thought carried an almost melodic pattern. The women easily found the desired taxis outside the main exit, the temperate air hitting them as they went through the revolving door. It was July, the winter season for almost all of Brazil, but the temperature was still quite agreeable. The slayer hailed a cab and both women got in the back seat, the driver depositing their four large suitcases in the trunk.

"Dois trinto oito, El Bassasris, Quintero Distrito, Sao Paulo, por favor, senhor." Kennedy tried to sound like she'd done this often as she scanned the small piece of paper in her hand—'238 El Bassasris, Qintero District, Sao Paulo.'

"Sim, Senhorita," came the polite reply. Willow looked at Kennedy confused; the brunette whispered, "…he said 'yes, miss'."

The taxi then lurched into the flow of traffic leaving the airport exit and eventually made its way onto the Presidente Dutra Highway on its destined course of Sao Paulo and the waiting hacienda style four room apartment that would be home for the lovers for the foreseeable future. The auto made its way into the city, the traffic still frantic even for a Saturday. They passed by huge skyscrapers and gigantic glass and concrete buildings, one right after the other, in a seemingly endless train. The massive breadth of the city amazed the witch. Kennedy, having gone into New York City on numerous occasions, was at ease with the size of it. Willow was astonished by its 'bigness.' This was all so new and different; the redhead was starting to understand how Dorothy and Toto must have felt.

"We're not in Sunnydale anymore, are we?" It was a declaration of awe as much as a rhetorical question. Kennedy realized that in the last several weeks her witch had come into contact with some very overwhelming sights, first Kennedy's house and now this. Willow had told her that, besides her grief stricken stay in England, she really hadn't ventured too far from her hometown. Family trips to educational, but usually boring, places were the extent of her travels. The brunette wondered how her girl was handling the sudden changes thrown at her. Kennedy picked the redhead's hand up and brought it to her lips. With a gentle, light kiss, she sweetly said, "It's just a city, Will…it's big, but we'll get use to it in no time." Kennedy wanted to ease her witch's trepidations and let her know that this, like everything else, they would handle together.

After passing through what Willow could only guess was the business district, the taxi wandered through various neighborhoods, snaking its way on windy roads and past apartment buildings of varying sizes and conditions. They drove by quaint houses with lovely little yards all adorned with beautiful flora and fauna. The women both commented on how the neighborhoods had personalities of their own; the houses differently accessorized, giving the obvious knowledge that a new ethnic area was being entered. The taxi continued its voyage passing corner markets and local eating establishments. This was not a place where people went to the Super Walmart and stocked up on frozen food. This was a day to day way of life, daily trips for bread or fruit or just the right wine or cachaca, a Brazilian sugar cane liquor. Tree lined streets, music flowing from the open windows and sauntering residents openly declared the 'love of life' attitude of the culture. By the time the taxi stopped, Willow and Kennedy thought they had traveled to the land of Oz.

Apartment number 4 at 238 El Bassasris was the end result of the first disagreement between the two lovers since their official joining as a true couple. After it was determined that the two were headed for Sao Paulo, Giles informed them of their original living arrangement. "It's a nice studio apartment on the fourth floor of a complex…" As soon as Kennedy heard 'studio apartment' she stopped listening. After the watcher finished his real estate agent spiel, the brunette spoke up.

"Uh, Giles…we need to reconsider the place. There's no way a studio's gonna work."

Giles was surprised by the comment. "I don't know what you mean Kennedy, the apartment's already set." He stumbled with his glasses.

"Well, we need to unset it then…we need more room." Kennedy's tone was normal but firm.

"Kenne, what's wrong with a studio?...Besides if it's already a done deal…" Willow hated making waves, and discussing this with Giles, the man who had accepted the burden of putting all the details together, was definitely making waves, big ones.

"No, Willow…We're not spending the next who knows how many months living in one room. We were cramped like sardines at Buffy's, and we've been living out of hotel rooms for the past month and a half…we need space."

"I'm sure Giles did the best he could, and got us what would work best for what we're doing, right Giles?" Willow said in a tone that more than hinted to Kennedy that she was being somewhat ungrateful for the man's efforts. The watcher had put a lot of effort into the arrangements, but he didn't want to get in the middle of what he sensed might become an issue of conflict. Before Giles could have responded, if he were so inclined, the brunette spoke.

"This isn't about Giles going a good or bad job; I just want us to be comfortable. And that ain't gonna happen in a studio. They'll be no room for me to workout or for you to do magick or computer stuff without us tripping all over each other." Kennedy then looked at Giles. "I don't mean anything against you, Giles…but we need to fix this." Willow wondered if this no compromise, no wavering attitude was a trait her brunette learned from her astute businessman father. At this particular moment, Willow wasn't sure she liked it all that much on her girlfriend.

"Giles, give me the info on our place and let me work on it until we're ready to go. I'll find something…and whatever the Council's put into this tell them they don't have to spend any more money. I'll pay the rent." Kennedy had given her last and final demand. The watcher could do nothing but accept; he had learned quickly that arguing with Kennedy was usually futile, whether she was right or wrong. "Fine, Kennedy. But I'll need to know all the details." Willow said nothing but kept from looking at her girlfriend. Kennedy had thought the matter resolved until the two women went back to their room.

"Why not?...I said I'd take care of everything." Kennedy was bewildered with the statement from her girlfriend.

"That's just it…this should be us doing this, not only you…and I don't want to be messing up Giles' plans…Besides, I can't afford to live wherever we'd like. Even with the Council helping, I'm sure Giles picked this place because it was a good price and a good location." Willow knew that Kennedy had no conception of living within one's means. Her family's 'means' were practically endless.

"We don't need a good price. And Giles didn't say anything about location being an issue. I can afford a place for the both of us that we'll really like. We'll be a lot happier…and we'll be able to do our jobs better if we're happy." Kennedy smiled and said the words in a light, teasing tone while looking at Willow, trying to bring her into a better mood.

"But what am I supposed to do? Let you be all supportive girl and pay for everything while I just sit back and do nothing?...I mean first the clothes and now this." Willow was frustrated; she didn't want to seem unappreciative of Kennedy's generosity but she also didn't want to feel like the lesser partner, the side note – not with Kennedy.

The first fleeting thought to run through Kennedy's brain was 'See, the money always changes things,' but she didn't want to think that way about Willow; so she didn't give a knee jerk reaction like she would have done with any other person. Instead, the brunette considered the words just spoken to her. Kennedy then began to realize the problem her witch was having with the situation. Willow was scared of not being equal in their relationship, once again being the sidekick. Kennedy understood that their different financial circumstances would easily make Willow uneasy.

"Willow, honey…you won't be doing nothing down there. You're the one who has to find the slayers and then we'll need to contact them. You'll have to get a hold of the local covens, like Giles suggested before, and let them know what's happening. You're doing most of the stuff once we get there." Kennedy went to her witch and took her hand. "I want you as comfortable as you can be. You need to be in a good space because you're gonna be working your pretty little ass off down there…" The slayer then kissed the alabaster hand. "This is something I can do for you…for the both of us…we're in this together, Will…I may not be all 'Paris Hilton' with the rich life, but I'm not ashamed of it. I've got money and I'm not afraid to use if I have to." The last words said with mock sternness.

"I just don't want you to do everything." Willow knew Kennedy meant well; she merely didn't want to get lost in the shuffle, this endeavor was already producing enough anxiety for her. The witch also realized that Kennedy had said that they would both be contacting the slayers. Kennedy had already assumed that Willow would be there with her, together and not as a helper. Her anger and fear washed away.

"I promise. You can help me find a place. Then once we get there, no decisions without you."

"No, you go get all Donald Trumpy…I'd probably freak out with anything you pick." Kennedy shook her head and smiled at her witch.

And she didn't. When the two women walked into their new home, they were much pleased. Their residence was considered an apartment but had the appearance of a house. It was a ground floor place directly to the right after entering through a wrought iron gated fence off the street. There were several other 'apartments', all individual units sharing common entrance walkways and a foyer which was really an open garden area with a fountain in the middle. There were indigenous trees and palms all around.

The inside of the apartment was just as pleasing. It came furnished; Kennedy decided that was one easy way to avoid a 'money' argument. There were two bedrooms in the back; one which would be turned into an office for their official slayer/Council matters. The bathroom had a tub and shower, the women looking at each other suggestively knowing that it would get good use. A small laundry room/closet in the short hallway contained an even smaller washer and dryer combo. The kitchen was directly ahead and to the left of the front door which faced the street. It was big enough to have a small table against the wall under a window. The appliances weren't what would have been expected if in the United States, but they were relatively new and in good working condition. There was a kitchen island separating the kitchen from the living room off to the right, more of an open plan design. There was a couch, rocking chair and coffee table to one side of the living room, and a reclining chair and entertainment center on the other. The unit contained a television and stereo. On the back far wall opposite the couch, there were double doors leading to the back garden area. The apartment had its own little patio area. The inside walls were done in a fine stucco finish and the floors were deep, rich clay colored tile. Ceiling fans were in every room, potted plants adorned the living room and kitchen. The main bedroom had a simple queen sized bed, two dressers and a closet, and a window that looked out to the side of the garden. The other had a twin bed with one dresser. Its window looked out to the side property. Overall, it was a great start to the couple's Brazilian experience.

After looking around, Kennedy and Willow placed their suitcases down in the back spare bedroom. They didn't know where to start.

"Always," replied the slayer as she hugged her girl tightly from behind and kissed her neck. "I meant food." Willow smiled.

"Me too…so when are we supposed to meet Miguel?" Miguel Ferreira was the Brazilian Council contact who would be assisting Willow and Kennedy in their endeavors.

"Well, we've got about four hours. We should probably get as much unpacked as we can." Willow was always the sensible, responsible person.

"Sounds like a plan." Kennedy's acquiescence seemed to come too quickly for the witch.

Kennedy then opened a suitcase and searched around until she uncovered several bathroom items they bought, knowing that though the placed came furnished, they would still have to buy all essentials. The brunette brought the shampoo and soap to the bathroom. In the meantime, Willow began to unpack her clothes. She decided each of them would have their own dresser. Clothes started to fill hers, along with half the closet. When she was about two-thirds of the way through, she heard her slayer's voice. "Hey, Will…can you help me here?" The witch followed the words which led her to the bathroom. There stood Kennedy with nothing on but a smile.

"What are you up to?" Willow tried to sound shocked and annoyed by Kennedy's lack of unpacking effort but she was too interested in the naked form of her lover.

"You said to unpack, so I did. Got the bathroom taken care of…" and raising her eyebrows, "…I think we need to take a break now." Kennedy walked over to the redhead and took her in a strong embrace.

"Kenne?" Willow's breathing was already getting labored just from the touch of her brunette. "The sheets we bought for the bed are still in the suitcase."

"Who said anything about a bed…" the slayer whispered in her witch's ear. It sent shivers down Willow's spine. Lips then began to travel from the witch's ear, down her delicate jaw line to a waiting and wanting mouth. The two engaged in a passionate, probing kiss, instantly heating up their desire. Bronzed hands worked expertly at removing the witch's blouse and then bra. Kennedy started a trail of warm, wet kisses down Willow's neck, and to her breast. She took it in her mouth and began to caress the erect nipple with her tongue, while her free hand was on Willow's back pulling her in for more contact. Willow's muscles quivered and her breath grew more ragged. Kennedy gave just the right amount of pleasure to that breast before treating its mate with like attention. By this time, the redhead had her hands in Kennedy's hair, gripping with every new jolt of pleasure through her body.

It hadn't taken Kennedy long to figure out that her redhead truly was a breast girl. Though Willow was fond to admit, though embarrassed once she did, that breasts were her body part of choice, she was also easily aroused with sexual contact to her own. Kennedy saw how effortlessly Willow was brought to a full erotic boil by caressing and kissing and suckling her breasts. The right amount of tongue pressure on her nipples alone was almost enough to send the witch over the edge. This time was no different. The more Kennedy teased and flicked, the harder she could feel Willow's fingers, which had now moved to her back, dig their nails into her tanned skin.

When the mission on the redhead's breasts was complete, the brunette continued her descent, grazing her lips on the firm light skin of the witch's stomach. While she kissed, Kennedy's fingers worked at relieving her redhead of her pants and undergarment. She crouched down and slid the clothing off her lover. Then she knelt before her witch as if in prayer. She was still for a few moments, in sudden contemplation, then sat back on her heels and looked up, brown eyes mesmerized by the vision before her.

"You are the most beautiful woman on earth." It was a simple expression of the true feelings of the slayer. A kinder, more honest person Kennedy had never known. Her witch was beautiful in every way. On knees bent, "I'd be nothing without you." Willow had become her religion.

The witch had never felt so loved. She was continually amazed by the emotional intensity of the brunette, the one facet of the slayer that was shown only to her, that existed only for her. One minute she could be toying playfully and then suddenly be as romantic and serious as an Italian opera. Whatever made Kennedy act the tough, hard woman to the outside world, Willow knew it was a sham. The brunette was gentle and soft and always sincere.

Willow bent over and pulled her slayer up to her. "I adore you, Kennedy." Truer words were never spoken. She brought the brunette to her for a kiss. The tender moment gave way to their physical need. Once again the women's desires turned quickly to uncontrollable flames. Their hands caressed each other's thighs and followed the curves of their bodies, always keeping contact. Willow's hand slipped between bronzed thighs eliciting a gasp from the brunette. "We better get in the shower real soon or we're gonna be on the floor," Kennedy chopped out the words between heated breaths. The two separated and Willow reached behind the shower curtain and turned on the water. Kennedy's hands never left her, tracing circles over her supple back and kissing down the nape of her neck.

When the cascading water was at the right temperature, both stepped in, Willow facing and closest to the shower head. Kennedy immediately pressed up against her witch from behind and started again to massage and caress her lover's breasts with both hands. She kissed along her shoulder while the hot water pelted down on the front of the witch, its heat mingling with the sensation being caused by those bronzed hands. Then one hand slowly descended to the witch's center. The witch brought her arms out in front of her and placed her hands against the shower wall. Willow's muscles were humming, mini fireworks bursting through her with every new touch by the brunette. When Kennedy's fingers slid into their rhythmic quest for the divine, Willow let out a gasp and almost lost her balance. She openly moaned with pleasure as her rocking body was led to that place of searing, pulsating sensation ripping its way through her core and into every part of her. As the spasms subsided, it was all she could do to keep standing. Her brunette never let go; keeping her girl steady as she felt the waves of pleasure crash over her witch.

When she was able to compose complete syllables again, Willow turned around. Kissing her brunette lightly, she said softly, "You are amazing." Kennedy just smiled. Willow gave her no time for a sweet or cocky remark. The witch's fulfillment spurred on her energy to satisfy her slayer. She backed up Kennedy and leaned her into the back wall. Then she traced her hand down the brunette's side, making the skin shiver in delight. She continued down her thigh until her hand rested behind Kennedy's knee. Brown eyes gave an inquisitive look. Willow then lifted the leg and rested its foot on the edge of the tub. With a devilish smile, the redhead started to kiss and lick her way down Kennedy's toned body. Willow loved the feel of her brunette's body; the firmness of her muscles and the softness of her skin. With every inch of exploration, Kennedy's muscles recoiled and the sensation had the slayer begging for release; she could feel it building in her, deep inside. Her breathing was shallow and mixed with moans of Willow's name. She put her arms out and pushed her hands against the two walls around her, her eyes tightly closed engrossed in the pleasure. She didn't notice Willow kneel. It was when she felt a mouth on her aching center that Kennedy's senses exploded. It took but a few intimate strokes of Willow's tongue to send Kennedy into a torrent of orgasmic sensation. Fingers clawed at the shower tiles as the feeling rumbled outward from inside. As her muscles relaxed, Kennedy thought to herself how she loved Willow making love to her, what it did to her. Willow stood up and was met by a warm embrace. "Ya know that thing you said before about amazing…" Kennedy looked into emerald eyes. "…Well, right back atcha."

After the women regained normal high level brain functions, they were able to take an actual shower. Then they got dressed, Kennedy rummaging around in her suitcases to find something acceptable to wear. They still had a while before they had to leave for their meeting, so they unpacked some more and made a list of the items they needed to get. When the time finally approached, the witch and the slayer left the new apartment and entered the waiting taxi. As the car started off Willow leaned over to Kennedy, "The place is great. It really was the right decision." Kennedy put her hand on her witch's leg and smiled. A moment later, Willow added, "Wonder what this Miguel guy is like."

Miguel Carlos Ferreira was what one thought of when picturing a Brazilian of the male persuasion. He was tall and had bronzed skin, penetrating dark eyes and black hair. He was of muscular build and had a dazzling smile. He dripped sex appeal. He was Brazilian by birth and male by the grace of God, at least that's how he used to see himself when he was a stupid immature young man. It wasn't that he hated women; in fact he was quite fond of them and thought highly of their nurturing attitude. But early on, he never thought women had the internal fortitude or bravery of men. That is until he met the vampire slayer. It was ten years ago when he was on a business trip in Miami. It was late at night and he was coming out of a bar on South Beach when a man came up to him asking for a light. "Sorry, I don't smoke," he said in his best English, something of which he was very proud. When he tried to keep walking, the man grabbed him by the arm and forcefully pushed him into a dark alleyway. The strength in the man's hand was astounding. He pushed Miguel around like a doll. Miguel tried to protest and struggled to get away. That's when he saw the horrible transformation that had overtaken the stranger's face. 'Are those fangs?' he thought as the monster leaned in at his neck.

Just then, Miguel heard a commotion at the alleyway's entrance. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," a woman's voice said. The stranger instantly let Miguel go who fell to the ground. What Miguel saw next changed his life and outlook forever. The woman, tall with black hair and a southern accent, then proceeded to, in the span of about three minutes, kill the super-strong thug who had tried to manhandle him. Miguel watched as the woman, who appeared maybe eighteen, fought with the expertise of a world boxer, karate expert and street fighter all rolled up into one. She never flinched, even during the few times when it appeared the stranger had gotten the upper hand. It all ended quickly, with the thrust of a spike. That's when Miguel put it together; the spike was made of wood and the stranger was a vampire. The light bulb went on when he saw the creature turn to dust after the spike went through the vampire's heart.

That was the catalyst for Miguel Ferreira's total transformation. The slayer's name was Sandra. She was two slayers before Buffy and had been on vacation with her family the night she ran into Miguel. Having seen the whole thing, the woman knew she couldn't lie to the man. Besides, Miguel was very interested in the truth. He was a firm believer in the occult, magick and the underworld. He hounded her for an explanation on the event and her abilities. Being charming, Sandra did give in to his purely non-romantic pressure. It turned out the slayer was only seventeen, and, despite the stereotype of the 'Latin lover' and his natural ability to attract women, Miguel had strict rules in that regard. The two became friends, as much as that was possible for the slayer. He was eventually introduced to Sandra's watcher. Because of his keen interest and good instincts, the man was in turn connected to the Watcher's Council. He studied the slayer legacy and the slayers themselves. He soon discovered that the girls chosen to be the vampire slayer were all extraordinary in their own right. Even those that were potentials for the slayer position had a uniqueness about them.

His regard for the 'weaker' sex changed with his ever expanding knowledge of their most worthy members. He came to acknowledge the base strength within the slayers had been there all along. It was the innate quality within all women, that silent magnificence in the female race. He began to see the courage and power in women. Even when held down into submission by society, it was there deep in the eyes.

Because he lived in Brazil, and the fact that most callings for the slayer were going to the United States, Miguel never became a watcher, but he was kept abreast of events and did have a general knowledge of the Council's workings. Years passed and Miguel went about his daily life, only tangentially connected to the Council. Then one day in late May, the thirty-three year old exporter received a call from Rupert Giles. That conversation had eventually led to his impending meeting with Kennedy and Willow at the Grattino Restaurante, a nice eating establishment with secluded tables perfect for discreet, uninterrupted meetings.

Kennedy and Willow recognized him instantly. Giles had given them a picture which turned out to do no justice to the man. "Wow, if I wasn't gay…" Willow said as she and Kennedy sat at their table watching the man walk towards them. "Wow is right. Even I'd admit the guy's a hottie." Miguel walked to their table like a GQ model strutting down a runway, a Brazilian Adonis.

"Yes…you speak English," Willow was surprised but glad that she wouldn't have to struggle with a language barrier.

"Most people here speak English. Some just better than others." It always bewildered the man that Americans didn't realize that a great number of the people on the planet were at least bilingual.

"Of course, so sorry…I don't mean to be rude…you must be Mr. Ferreira, it's nice to meet you." The witch put her hand out for a handshake.

"Please, call me Miguel." He shook Willow's hand. "And call me Willow," she replied.

He then looked at Kennedy. "And you are the slayer, Kennedy Prescott…my pleasure, miss." The brunette could tell he was sizing them up, she'd seen her father do it before.

"Certainly." He gave a small bow of his head. 'Oh, yeah, this guy is definitely working it' she thought. But she didn't get a bad impression or an uneasy feeling so she went with her instinct that told her the man was on solid ground.

The three sat and got acquainted. They discussed their mission over dinner and the role each was to play. Miguel made it clear that he was not appointed as Kennedy's watcher. He knew he didn't have the training for that responsibility and didn't want the brunette to think he was going to be drilling her like a school teacher. "I can assist you with your training if you'd like. I have experience in different fighting styles." Kennedy accepted the offer and told him she was still looking for a place for serious training. "I can help you with that. I know of many places that would probably be what you have in mind." They also discussed his role with locating the new slayers. As had been decided previously, Willow was to use her power to locate the slayers in Brazil. Miguel was to help with geographical and other technical information she would need to aid in her concentration. He was also to be their own travel agent, giving them all the specifics necessary to travel to and make contact with the girls. Brazil, like every other country had its share of internal strife, political and economic discord, and Miguel was there to keep the witch and the slayer out of all non-demonic trouble as much as possible. Once contact was made, Ferreira's job was to maintain communication and handle living arrangements for any slayers that wanted to be a part of the Brazilian branch of the new slayer network which was also his responsibility to establish. He was to be liaison between the women and the Council and also their 'assistant' for whatever else might come up.

By 9:45pm, the three had had a good meal and covered much territory. It was decided that business would not start for at least several days, the time given to the women to recover from jet lag and become acquainted with their surroundings. Miguel paid the bill and the three left the table together, Willow and Kennedy to call a taxi and Miguel to his waiting motorcycle.

As they walked out, none in the group noticed the attractive older woman sitting in the corner table, alone. She had jet black hair tied in a bun and piercing dark brown eyes. She was stylishly dressed to bring out the beauty of her golden tanned skin. The woman likewise didn't notice the lovers or the attractive man as they walked by. She was engulfed in her thoughts, fingers twisting a gold ring on her right index finger. The ring was a magnificent work of craftsmanship with delicately etched markings on the sides. There was a spectacular dark stone as its centerpiece. The color was not black, nor the deepest of purple; it was not rich navy blue nor dark blood red. But it was unforgettable once seen. The woman's face wore the look of unrelenting fear.

None of the individuals passing like strangers on a street could have known that their destinies were on a collision course.

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Alterations With Time

by LilBit

Copyright © 2005

Epallen@tampabay.rr.com