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?

Good and Evil had been battling since time began. It was the nature of the struggle; the ultimate bizarre unison of ying and yang, two sides of the same cosmic coin. Forms took different masks depending on the eyes viewing the scene. But the choice, the difference, was still there ever constant. Both, by their very existence, their very nature, desired dominion though for differing ends. Evil for control and submission; it thrived on fear and selfishness. It was the ultimate 'me, me, me' philosophy. The weak were of no consequence, they had no reason to be. Good, conversely, stood for love and freedom. The connectedness of all, the shared responsibility for the common good was the quest. Everyone mattered and mattered equally. Good and evil were diametrically opposed; unable to exist in harmony. And such was the reason for the eternal war between those forces, neither willing to release landhold to the other, worldly or otherwise, both ever vigilante to gain strength whenever possible.

One speck in the infinite battle was the Chamador domedo demons as they were known in South America. To the Spanish speaking world, they were the Llamador del miedo; to the English tongue, Fear Callers. Every ethnic, cultural and racial group had a name for them. That is for those who believed, there was a name. Like so much else with the evil side of existence, there were many who didn't know or believe. The Fear Callers had gone the way of the boogey man and vampires; legends and spooky stories meant to scare and entertain but never accepted as truth. These particular demons had taken an especially interesting path into the ethos. They had actually been written off as made up characters altogether. The Callers were no longer even assumed to have existed even in story form. Their existence had evolved into merely that sudden uneasy feeling one gets when walking into a dark room, or the slight skip of the heart from getting into a car late at night and thinking 'I'm not alone.' But that veiled reality was anything but the truth.

The Fear Callers were not a demonic species from other dimensions or times. They could not be classified as such like dogs or fish can be so named. They were more akin to vampires; individuals that had lived a human life before being transformed into their demon presence; flesh that had once carried a name. But the Callers were not innocent mortals taken for no other reason than the lustful hunger for blood. Callers when human were not innocent at all. They had all been warriors for Evil in one form or another. Most were paid killing machines for the dark forces and had accepted, as their wages, the infusion of higher powers. Though still technically human, these mercenaries were endowed with super human strength and immortality. They were the scourge of mankind because they blended in as one of them, allowing their undifferentiated killing to occur at will. These killers were the henchmen of evil and had started to give its master a tipping of the scales against Good.

In order to regain its foothold, those on the side of Good summoned up the most powerful of witches, mystics and medicine men to create a spell to rid the world of the plague running amuck. After much meditation and conjuring, a spell arose from the magickal depths of goodness. Hoards of protectors were sent out to find the killers and vanquish them from earth's existence.

The spell was rather simple despite the harrowing battles that were waged to get to that point. Each of the soldiers of evil had to be defeated in battle, a feat almost impossible in itself. Once conquered, the champion had to say the words of the spell while dusting the defeated with a powerful magickal powder. The mixture was meant to evoke the evil soul out of the being. As soon as the dusting and words were complete, a ring made of gold was retrieved from the champion's blessed pouch and held before the warrior. The ring was forged from the hands of monks and blessed by the gods in heaven. There were inscriptions on the sides of the ring, words eliciting the holy heavens to sanctify and protect the world from evil. The stone set in the top of the ring was mined from an ancient mystical cavern in the deepest part of the African continent. It was a stone unknown to man, never seen before nor since. Its color was beyond description.

The ritual complete, the crusader only had to wait, for within less than twenty racing heartbeats the killer would begin to fade, his existence becoming fluid like a Dali painting of liquid time. The soul would then be pulled into the stone, trapped for all eternity, unable to be a willing helper to Evil any longer. The physical body would vanish, having no life force to support it.

It was in this way that Good was able to regain lost territory. Over scores of hundreds of years, the minions of evil were vanquished in like manner, the rings always staying under the protective care of a special group of holy men throughout the world. It stayed like that for centuries. And then, in 1017, Holy Brother Dominic Equestaine in what is know known as Arles, France, was found dead in his monastic prayer room.

It wasn't so much his death that spurred concern, he was ninety-seven, but the manner of his death. He was found curled up in the corner of his sparse room with a look of complete and utter terror plastered to his face. He had been literally scared to death…and the ring he protected was gone. All that remained were small particles and slivers of the stone.

The event brought about immediate action. The long and drawn out process of contacting other protectors was begun to determine if this was a unique event or a more serious continuation of an already unacceptable situation. What was learned terrified the monks. It was discovered that over the years many of the rings had been stolen, the thieves concerned only with the rings' beauty and value, ignorant of the evil stored inside. They also learned that Brother Dominic was not the only one to reach his end in terror. With each death, the ring kept by the deceased was also missing.

It took many, many years of research and hunting for the truth surrounding the deaths and rings to come into the light. In a nutshell, the spell didn't work. There had been a monumental glitch in the process, akin to the hundred million dollar mistake experienced by the Hubble telescope because of a misplaced decimal point in the math. The force and strength of Evil had been underestimated. The spell did imprison the evil soul of the traitor, but it left behind the ethereal presence of the being, a specter in some respects. But it was no normal ghost; what was left behind was the Fear Caller demon. It was a non-corporeal essence in search of its 'other half', its better, more evil half. The essence still had the memories of its former being; it just needed to connect the two to become whole. Its super human existence had been born from fear, because of it, and fear would be the medium for its return. The Callers began to search the earth for the possessor of their missing self's prison. Not knowing the location of their particularly needed ring or the protector of said article, the demons were forced to 'sense' everyone in their path. The Callers were of no form, they appeared no different than the air, but they were there. By enveloping a person, a Caller could sense if he or she was the holder of their ring, the pull for reuniting the evil forms was that powerful. To the lay person, this felt like nothing more than a slight chill from a breeze that wasn't there or a soft voice heard in an empty room. If not the bearer, then the demon would move on, forging ever forward to unearthing its lost self.

When the true ring bearer was found, then the Caller began its torment for freedom. A 'shimmer' was what met its victims. It was a mind trick, or mind trip better explained. The demon could infuse itself into a person's subconscious and bring to the surface the individual's fears. The easy ones were those possessed by all, the fear of a monster waiting in a dark room, or a killer hiding in one's car. Shimmers were the momentary thought of seeing another face in addition to one's own in a mirror, or the passing eerie feel of eyes watching as one sits alone late at night in a room lighted only by the dim hue of a television. They were those frightening urban legends that everyone knew and feared. But the Fear Callers could go deeper and uncover the personal fears of people, their intimate, private uncertainties.

The reason for these shimmers was simple; the demons gathered power from the energy spawned by the fear. The more frightened a person befell, the stronger, more powerful and closer connected to their evil soul they became. The more fear that was induced, the closer to corporeal the demon became. Upon complete submission to fear, the demon would emerge as flesh and bone. The demon would be human again, possessing all their previous attributes save the enhanced evil power that was still caged in the stone of the ring. Usually, obtaining that power was a matter of taking the ring off the finger of the 'scared to death' keeper. But in the few instances where the fear hadn't killed the victim, the now corporeal human Caller would battle the weak and withered protector, easily beating and killing the person without effort. However obtained, the stone merely needed to be crushed for the sinister soul to be bonded to its body, and for the Caller to be an immortal super human once again. It was discovered that the reunited wore the broken ring as a reminder of their captivity and reason for hatred of the righteous, their enslavers. For those that made the union, evil was soon knocking at their door, bidding them their loyalty to the dark side. And they went.

Fear Callers though could be killed. Once the evil soul was returned, it was a massive endeavor, requiring the lives of thousands of warriors of good to bring down just one. But there was another way also. When the Caller took corporeal form, but before the stone crushed and soul returned, the being was in its human state, subject to death as any other flesh and blood mortal. This was the moment most vulnerable for the demon and most advantageous for those seeking to kill it. Once the ways of death were known, the keepers of the rings were informed in order to give some shield from the demons and ammunition for their death.

However, for those who had rings that had been stolen centuries ago, the answers were secrets. For the black haired, older woman seated at the Grattino Restaurante, the story and legacy of the Chamador domedo demons were unknown, the steps to avoid death unseen. The ring encircling the woman's finger was given to her by a dying lover. "…don't ever take it off…" were his last words before he succumbed to the gunshot wound to his back. She never did remove the ring in the seven years since it was placed on her finger. As she sat at the corner table, she now wondered if the ring was the cause of her recent insanity, her incessant episodes into the depths of despair. She knew she could not take off the ring; it had become part of the penance for her past. The woman didn't know what to do.

"This doesn't look good…not good at all." Kennedy cocked her head to the side to get a better look at…herself.

She didn't know how it started but the brunette remembered slowly waking from what she thought was sleep. When she opened her eyes she expected to see the ceiling in her and Willow's bedroom; she expected to feel her witch snuggled up next to her. Instead she saw a bright white light and felt cold, she'd never felt so cold. She had no idea where she was. Then she heard the voices, people speaking Portuguese and talking about lacerations, re-sectioning and possible spinal cord injury. Her eyes darted about, seeing green garbed figures, faces masked, leaning over her body. She couldn't see what they were doing because of the sheet drawn across her shoulders. 'Are they doctors?' she thought. That's when she remembered outstretched arms picking her up and taking her from a pool of blood on the mission floor, after her battle with the Fear Caller demon, to an ambulance. Her next memory was the flash of a scene with doctors frantically gathered around her and her trying to ask them about Willow. Then all went blank until she 'woke up' again in her present location. She thought hard—she was in surgery. But how could she be awake and the doctors still operating as if nothing was wrong? She panicked; 'the anesthesia must be wearing off and they don't know it'. She desperately tried to call to their attention but discovered she had no voice; she had no body. None in the room made any movement in her direction, their focus still on something on the other side of the sheet.

At first the brunette thought she was dreaming somehow but soon discarded that notion because she was involved in a real time event. 'I'm here…now. This isn't in my head.' She wondered again, this time with scorched concentrated thought, 'what the hell is going on?' Without time passing, Kennedy found herself at the far end of the room, looking at the scene from whence she just came. The slayer was viewing the surgical staff as they operated on some one. Again, she was given no notice by the professionals in the room. She could partially see the body on the table, the focus of the medical staff. It seemed all too familiar to the brunette. Then she looked at what the doctors were doing. The slayer saw drawn back and clamped skin, surgical instruments protruding from the fleshy hole….and she saw blood soaked swabs and gloved hands. The sweat was evident on the doctors' foreheads and surgical tops.

Kennedy didn't have to get any closer; the scene she got from the tilt of her head was enough to confirm her suspicion and express her concern. She was the person on the table and some other part of her, the metaphysical part, was outside herself watching the horror. She was a ghost to those around her. 'Is this one of those out of body experiences?' Her encounters over the last year kept her from thinking anything was too impossible. She looked down at herself. She was dressed in the same hospital garb as her counterpart on the table but she had no wound, no gaping hole in her body. How that was, she couldn't fathom. One thing she noticed immediately though, she didn't feel the slayer strength she had become accustomed to; it wasn't gone but was in a much weakened state. And she felt tired; she couldn't remember ever feeling so tired. That's when the fear crept in like nighttime strays looking for a place to sleep. She couldn't feel anything other than fear and helplessness; worse, she had no ability to alter her situation. She was alone and she sensed that no one, not the doctors in the room, not even Willow, could help her now. At that moment, Kennedy deduced she was dying.

Gazing at the drama playing out before her, the brunette knew she had come to her predicament by her own accord, her own weaknesses. She had lost her most recent fight for all intent and purposes, won the battle but lost the war. It was evident to her now that she was not the great slayer she exalted to the world, not the mighty warrior she made herself believe she was. 'I never was.' The realization hit her like a battle ram. The words cut to her soul. She knew she didn't deserve to be a slayer, that she had always been nothing more than a glorified street fighter. She was like a star athlete with a knee brace. With support, there were glimpses of greatness; but without steel assistance, the star buckled in defeat. She was the little girl begging to cross the road on her own and freezing in terror when her father's hand let go. That was the brunette slayer. She now saw how her watcher had been her support as a potential, then Faith and Buffy once infused with the slayer power. She had shown skill and talent during those times. But on her own, with only her own slayer instincts to trust, she eventually faltered and buckled under the strain. When seen for what she was really was, she knew she didn't, nor couldn't, match up to Buffy or Faith. They never would have disappointed the slayer lineage as she felt she had done.

Her time in Brazil had shown her she was inadequate, unprepared and unfit to protect those around her, never mind all the innocent in the world. She had made so many mistakes, stupid and cocky mistakes. Willow's attempts to convince her otherwise never fully sunk in to take root. Kennedy had not been perfect and in slaying, to her, that meant she wasn't good enough.

The brunette slayer heard several machines begin to chime loudly then more commotion from the medical personnel as they appeared to work with more urgency. She felt a chill again and longed for Willow to ease her troubled mind. Her redhead could always calm her raging emotions whatever direction they soared. All it took was a glance from emerald eyes and the slayer was tranquil. Her witch was the best medicine for emotions gone awry. She saw Willow's face. 'At least she'll be safe.' Kennedy felt slight redemption knowing the Fear Caller would take no life other than her own.

Then she contemplated what this, her death, would mean for her witch. The brunette didn't want to die and was trying to stay alive, but she sensed that her demise, like so many other things in her life both past and present, was out of her control. She hated knowing that Willow would grieve for her, would have sadness once again in her life. However, the brunette realized it was, in the grand view of things, how it should be. The brunette loved Willow more than she could ever express, more than the witch would ever realize. 'I was lost before I met you…and I didn't even know it.' Her time with Willow gave her the insight that, before Willow, she had been living a life with purpose, her possibility of being 'chosen', but one without true passion – an all encompassing drive to make her do her best. Willow gave her that. She was at her best when with her redhead, because of her. She had told her lover as much that first day in Brazil – "I'd be nothing without you…."

After they first declared their love for each other, Kennedy thought they could conquer anything. She was full of hope and excitement upon their arrival to Brazil. The brunette felt she had the tiger by the tail. She was a mighty slayer and she was with her incredible witch, the new dynamic duo. A real life with Willow meant everything to her, and the brunette naively thought her love and desire to make Willow happy was enough to keep them strong and protected. It wasn't enough. Her love for the girl, even though it sprang from the deepest part of her soul, wasn't big enough. The most she could give, herself completely, fell short of what Willow deserved. To Kennedy, she had failed her witch; betrayed her solemn promise to care for her and keep her safe. Actions had fallen short of aspirations. Her view of the scene on the operating table proved that she couldn't protect her witch from evil; she would only lead her redhead down the road to pain and eventual death. Kennedy couldn't even consider that thought. Willow would do better without her.

If anything, their time in Brazil had shown Kennedy that she was the weak one and Willow the bedrock of strength. The redhead may have blossomed as a woman and witch in Sunnydale, but she had come to shine like the sun on a bright summer's day during her time in Sao Paulo. Kennedy witnessed her transformation into a confident, self-directed powerful woman. Her redhead stumbled at first, one step forward and two steps back. But it didn't take long for the witch to conquer her insecurities; then she was off on her revolution of insight and knowledge. It was like watching a shooting star flashing across the night sky, inspirational. She was everything the brunette had seen in those beautiful green eyes that first day she arrived at Buffy's all those months ago. Willow had become the person Kennedy knew was locked inside waiting to break free. The redhead had become her rock, never giving up on her. The slayer's failure burned even more because of that. As much as she knew Willow loved her, loved her dearly, the slayer was just as certain that her witch could, and would, go on without her to have a better life. She wanted that for her love. 'You deserve the best…and that's not me.…'

There was more frenzied action over at the table where Kennedy's real self lay. Monitors chirped freely, initiating additional unanticipated action. A veil of desperation covered the room. Feeling a concurrent wave of weakness flush over her, Kennedy backed up and sat down against the wall while continuing to watch the show of her inevitable death evolve. 'I should have popcorn,' she sarcastically thought.

Having sadly determined that Willow would be better off in the long run, she then turned her attention to the other person that had recently confronted her thoughts.

"I'll get a couple then," said Kennedy as she placed two ripe mangos in their shopping bag.

The couple was on their first trip to the local market to get food for their very empty refrigerator. It was the last stop before heading back to their home. The day, the one after their arrival, had started with a loud knocking at their door waking them up. After their return from the meeting with Ferreira, adrenaline wore off and jet lag set in; they were so exhausted, they barely got the sheets on the bed before collapsing to sleep. At 9am the next morning, they were jolted from their slumber by loud knocking. It was a man dropping off their car. The original plan was for them to have a vehicle waiting for them at the airport. Giles had arranged for Miguel to purchase a dependable but non-eye catching automobile for their use while in Sao Paulo. Before they left LA, Giles informed Kennedy that there was a glitch in the paperwork and the car would take an extra day. Miguel promised it would be delivered the very first thing in the morning, and he was right.

The women's first order of business after the car's arrival was to shop for the items on their list prepared the day before. They had a map of the area and only got lost twice both due to the traffic and their inability to make quick turn-offs. In addition to the apartment being furnished, Miguel had purchased, ahead of time, kitchen items – pots, pans, dishes, stemware and utensils. Before they left, Kennedy and Willow had shopped for other items they would need such as towels, and other toiletries, sheets, blankets and pillows. The purchases altogether were modest; nothing extravagant. The fact that they were in effect 'setting up house' wasn't lost on the two lovers. Their purchases were boxed and sent off to Sao Paulo via FedEx to Miguel. They were waiting for the women in the spare bedroom when they arrived.

"Yeah, it is." Kennedy replied with a soft smile. To her it really was nice and real. It was the first time she had ever become this close with someone. It was all new and she relished every minute, every seemingly unimportant decision they made.

They got back to their apartment from the market and unpacked their newly bought items; Willow placed one of the two plants they purchased at the market on the kitchen table and the other on the coffee table, next to the picture of the entire Scooby Gang taken a few days before they left.

"Well, I figured we could get things as we go along, so that everything has a story and meaning to it." Kennedy went to her witch and hugged her.

"That's a great idea. See, I knew you were the smart one." Willow embraced tighter and leaned in for a kiss. Her lips grazed her slayer's and a tongue gently sought entry. Brown eyes instantly closed and the brunette's mouth gladly invited in her witch. Willow pressed for deeper contact. Just then Kennedy's stomach growled.

"Sorry…kinda hungry," the slayer said embarrassed. "Why don't we have lunch and then we can continue where we left off." Kennedy looked for approval.

Kennedy raised an approving eye brow. She was starting to see Willow come out her shell, become more vocal, when it came to her sexual desires. She was becoming bolder. Kennedy knew the redhead had no idea how truly irresistible she was. Her smile, the way she blushed, even the way she blinked her eyes were enough to send the brunette shivering. And that's when Willow wasn't even trying to be sexy. A cognizant, sexual Willow was a sight to behold. The look fit the redhead like a new style dress that accentuated all the right places. A wanting redhead was beyond the brunette to deny.

After they had lunch, and then each other, the two women decided they needed to get acquainted with their new home. "We'll just drive around and get a feel for where things are." Willow agreed with Kennedy's suggestion, and off they went, with map in hand, in their used, non-descript blue Camry.

Sao Paulo was a magnificent city; a metropolis in every meaning of the word. It was vibrant and full of activity. The couple's first observation was Brazilian drivers were, for lack of a better term, crazy. They sped, weaved in and out of traffic and viewed traffic signs as for suggestive purposes only. If Californians thought their traffic was bad, they needed just a few hours in Sao Paulo to show them the light. The women drove for several hours; the city seemed to go on forever, past the horizon. It was cosmopolitan to be sure. The city was the financial heartbeat of Brazil and its fancy hotels and intricate transportation system bore that out. There was something for everyone there. Kennedy drove by restaurants to quench any taste and night clubs that would soothe the ache in any ear. The slayer and the witch passed by the many different parks lush with trees and plants and flowers everywhere. They witnessed the many people enjoying their little place in the sun away from the hustle and bustle of the never ending business engine that was the city. What captured the women's attention most during the first leg of their travels was the undercurrent of energy that they saw in the places and people around them. 'Paulistas', the name for those from Sao Paulo, lived life – every part of it.

The redhead and brunette then stopped by Miguel's home to pick up some information he had on places for Kennedy to train. Plus, the women were just curious as to where, and how, the man lived. They both agreed that Mr. Ferreira was quite the charmer but also seemed genuinely in tune to his requested duty. He took his job seriously. His place turned out to be quite nice. He had a house about thirty minutes away from the couple. However, as he told them at their dinner, his office was but ten minutes away, five at a dead run. He was expecting the women's visit and had tried to clean up a bit. He lived the life of a bachelor and didn't want to offend his 'bosses' with sights of his boxer shorts or dirty dishes.

"This place is great, Miguel." Willow was impressed with the decorative touches.

"Thank you, Willow. My regular business is exporting, mostly furniture and other home furnishings. I'd like to think I have acquired a good selection of the finest examples from Brazil."

Miguel's home was modest in size but eye appealing. He had several beautiful pieces of wood furniture and numerous pictures, jars and artwork that all blended in to create an authentic cultured Sao Paulo home. Willow saw no pictures of a wife or kids; there were no photos at all. They all sat in the cozy living room where Willow scanned the titles on his bookshelves while they discussed the papers he had for Kennedy, their mission in general and the women's adventures to date in particular. "The best way to get to know the city is to experience it," Miguel said. "Go to restaurants, clubs, walk around and just take it all in…if you would like an escort, please do not hesitate to call me." He sounded like a tourism board advertisement. "We'll do that." The idea of getting her redhead out into the action of the city sat well with the slayer.

Kennedy told Miguel she would call him after she had a chance to check out the places he'd found. In the meantime, the man was to gather some supplies for Willow and wait until they called. The Brazilian was aware of the fact that Kennedy and Willow were a couple. He didn't want to intrude on what he knew would be both work and play for the two. No one could come to Sao Paulo and only work; for two young beautiful women in love, he was certain the romantic pull that the city had to offer would soon take hold. He left it to the women to decide the extent of his involvement in what he was sure would be their love affair with his magnificent city.

After the visit to the Brazilian, Kennedy and Willow went home and made a rough plan of attack. Willow was concerned with her ability to locate new slayers because of her total unfamiliarity of the country. It was a massive place, taking up two-thirds of the continent, and the witch had doubts of her precision in pinpointing areas she had no knowledge of in any sort, let alone her capability to locate an individual within that spot. She wanted to study the land of Brazil, its many regions, in order to get a better 'feel' for the land. Magick was more than the hocus pocus depicted on prime time television shows and movies. It wasn't all just pulled from thin air. Magick was metaphysical and physics, spiritual and chemistry. It was supernatural and biology. If one thing Willow had learned about her art, it was that knowledge and understanding were invaluable tools. Keen insight and the ability to conjure went hand in hand with knowing the subject, being the subject. If Willow wanted to find slayers, she had to get as close to her new homeland as she could.

Book stores and magick shops, those were the two initial targets of attention. Though Willow by her nature loved both, they were an essential ingredient to becoming friends with their city. She also had to contact the covens in the area. Information and support were the things the witch hoped to gain from them. The two also decided to seek out the cemeteries and abandoned sections of the city and surrounding areas. Kennedy knew her time would not only be spent on making contact with new slayers. She was a slayer, after all, and Sao Paulo, like every other city, had its share of evil lurking about. The brunette knew it would be her responsibility to aid in squelching as much of that big bad as possible.

This was how the routine of the slayer and witch for the next several months started. The women shared their passion for their work during the day and for each other at night. They began to amass a respectable library of magick books and topical fair on Brazil. The spare bedroom was set up for Willow to perform her spells, with books overflowing to the stylish bookshelf they acquired through Ferreira and placed next to the rocking chair. They drove around the city, targeting a specific section at a time, tasting its exquisite food and meandering through its streets. As the woman got to know Sao Paulo, they continued to gain greater insight into each other. Having gotten past the obvious points of their companion, the women were starting to discover the tiny, idiosyncratic ways of the other. Willow didn't like lima beans and Kennedy preferred extra ice in her soda. The witch always sneezed twice in a row, while the slayer liked to sleep on the right side of the bed. The redhead liked to snuggle on the couch and the brunette, well, she liked anything that had to do with being next to her girl.

Shared work duty was only part of the routine for the couple, for the two took Miguel on his word. They began to enjoy the city in which they lived. The women gave into the incessant rhythm of the place, pulling them to live. They went out at night and ate, drank and danced. Miguel was their compass on several occasions, finding treasures hidden in neighborhoods. It didn't take long for the couple to be infused with the lust for life, Brazilian style. Gorging themselves on the sights and sounds of their city was not only relegated to the night. They made time during some days to visit the many museums, including the magnificent Museu de Arte de Sao Paulo, along with noteworthy architectural and historic buildings and celebrated sights.

And there was futebol, otherwise known as football or the so inappropriate name of soccer to those from the States. To be in Brazil meant to be part of the frenzy that was their national sport. Kennedy and Willow went to a few state league games. They were amazed at the intensity of the people for their national past time. It was bigger than high school football in Texas. Americans may have been in love with their sports but Brazilians breathed and ate futebol. The government dictated there was no official religion in Brazil, but those who lived there knew better; futebol was their religion. Even the otherwise unathletically inclined Willow got somewhat caught up in the weekly drama, even to the point of rooting for the Sao Paulo Club. Whether it was a good club or not, she didn't know, she just liked the atmosphere of camaraderie.

During this time, Willow started her slow and arduous process of locating slayers. When she began to cast her locator spells at home, Kennedy and Miguel decided to start training at a quiet little gym about fifteen minutes from their apartment. The slayer soon found out that Miguel was no substitute for her watcher, Thomas. The Brazilian had skill in different fighting styles as he had told her, but his skill level was behind that of Kennedy. She often had to direct him in the tactics or methods she wanted him to do in order for her to get a proper workout. Kennedy quickly realized how much Sinclair had actually taught her, how invaluable he was in her training. She missed him and his skill as a teacher and mentor. But she made due the best she could and tried to keep her skills as sharpened as possible. Then one day, Kennedy came into the gym and heard strange wonderful music and saw Miguel making swift side to side movements low to the ground. She watched as he continued in a dance like rhythm. When he was done, the slayer questioned the man about his activity.

"It's capoeira, an old African form of martial arts." Just the description had the brunette intrigued. Miguel went on to tell Kennedy the history of that particular form of fighting. In the 16th century, Europeans colonized South America. From Africa, they brought slaves to work for them. These slaves were systematically mixed, one reason so that memories of the African ways would fade. Yet the memory of old ways of combat these slaves brought with them from Angola and other countries never died. In Brazil, once it was discovered how powerful this fighting style was, the capoeira was outlawed. If someone was caught doing capoeira, he or she was tied behind a horse and dragged though the streets. Slaves were not allowed to fight or train, so they had to find a way to do that in secrecy. They disguised their combat techniques with a dance. It wasn't until the 1930's that capoeira became legal, and ever since that time it had been growing and developing.

The format of the style was fluid, dance like movements done close to the ground. With shifty rhythmic movements, combined with the look of playfulness or vulnerability, an adversary would be brought to defeat. The form had become not only for defense but also art and exercise. The basic technique through which the capoeira practitioner developed his or her skills was the Ginga, a shifting side to side movement. At the heart of the art was the music lead by the berimbau, a steel stringed bow instrument with a gourd resonator which was usually joined by other instruments such as an African bell and a conga-like drum. "That's the music you heard when you came in."

Kennedy was instantly drawn to the fighting style. She had Miguel show her what he knew and then researched on her own to get more information. She went to several classes with Miguel and then started to train. Her natural fighting abilities made learning the style much like her ability to learn language; it came easily. Before long, Kennedy was proficient in the technique, a master of the deadly art in all respects. The capoeira fit her personality like tight leather pants; it was sultry and smooth with a hidden power.

As successful as Kennedy's training was going, her witch was running into a wall. Willow's endeavors with her scribing proved to be unproductive. She had been able to sense several entities but not enough to pinpoint location, just a general region. She could feel a block but was unsure of its origin. She made numerous calls to Giles who tried to guide her, as much as that was possible over the phone and several continents away. As frustrated as she would get, Kennedy was always there to give her a reassuring word. Her slayer could offer no technical assistance but Willow appreciated the cheering section. "Will, you've got to give yourself time…this is big, and you're flying solo…don't worry, you'll get it…I know you will." If it wasn't for her girl's uplifting speeches and her emails to Buffy and Xander, the redhead could have easily drifted into despair. But she kept trying.

"That's it…you need some serious distraction," Kennedy commanded after a particularly rough few days. "We, my dear Willow, are going crazy tonight." It was a command, not a suggestion.

Kennedy took Willow to a great little club they found that specialized in urban latin rock; the music had become the witch's favorite. Willow had been surprised at her desire for, and interest in, the many new and exotic experiences she was having. She thanked Kennedy for all of it. Willow realized that Kennedy had a tremendous thirst for the 'new', the 'different'; Kennedy craved variety. It kept her from being bored. After witnessing Kennedy's 'I'll try anything once' attitude, the redhead couldn't fathom how her girl's head hadn't exploded from the monotony that was much of the pre-Final Battle life in Sunnydale. Kennedy wanted to try every restaurant, visit every club and walk down every romantic stone path. Willow willingly followed.

Though admittedly overwhelmed initially by the metropolis, the witch was becoming at ease with her new domicile. This surprised her. She thought of herself as a small town girl. Though she had been through magnificent events in Sunnydale, and certainly didn't think herself wet behind the ears, she knew she never had gotten out into the world. She was no jet setter; hell, she wasn't even sure she completely understood the term. But Kennedy changed that; she grabbed Willow by the hand and took her flying through life, tasting everything along the way. She loved the inquisitiveness and spontaneity of her slayer; the redhead liked how it felt on herself.

Their arrival at Club Rocha was a welcome relief from the struggles binding the witch. "I don't get why I can't locate anyone." Willow was beginning to have serious doubts about her 'goddess' status. She had felt, since the time of fighting Glory, that she was a strong witch. Her resurrection of Buffy, though not only her own handiwork, added to her assuredness. The slayer spell put the exclamation point on the issue – or so she thought. Even after her descent into 'Veiny Willow' the witch knew she had immense power; she was just terrified to use it for fear of losing control and unleashing it on those around her. In Brazil, however, she felt disjunctive and separated from her power. She was struggling to find a balance and welcomed any change that might hurry it along. A night out was graciously received.

As soon as the women walked into the club, their troubles dissipated. Willow instantly got caught up in the entrancing rhythms wafting through the air. Her experiences at The Bronze never prepared the redhead for the musical smorgasbord that bombarded her in Sao Paulo. There was every type of music imaginable. She and Kennedy listened to traditional Brazilian music, third world, techno, ska, and punk. They tried good old rock 'n roll and blues. Much to Willow's amazement, she was pulled in by the modern urban latin rock sounds. Whether it was the rolling beat of the drums or the haunting ballads that captured her heart, the witch wasn't sure. The music had a constant flow like the ever pounding waves of the sea. The instruments were indigenous, the guitars and conga drums, bead covered gourds and wooden flutes; their sounds mysterious and somehow connected to the earth…the soul. The witch couldn't help but begin to sway with the music; it took her floating to a magical reality.

Kennedy watched as her lover absorbed the music. She loved to gaze at Willow as she moved with the flowing beat, all the redhead's problems dissolving for at least a few hours. Though Kennedy preferred skate punk and hard techno, she would never deny this time to her witch. The slayer wasn't sure why she was not bonded to the music which descended from her heritage. She suspected it may have had to do with the fact that the beat too often reminded her of the rhythm sticks of the Truxdeiro. The events of the ritual still too fresh in her mind to allow her complete pleasure in the music. It wasn't that she disliked the style; it just made her uneasy at times. But she loved watching her witch, and enjoyed dancing with her.

And dance they did. Willow marveled at the laissez-faire attitude the people had about 'alternative lifestyles'. Though she never hid her gayness in Sunnydale, and often walked holding hands with Tara, there was a more tangible easiness about the matter in Brazil. Living life to the fullest was the most important mind set; how that was done was left to the discretion of the individual. The women felt freer and they expressed it when they could. That's not to say the lovers overdid any public display of affection. Even if Kennedy had been so inclined, Willow was still far too shy to try anything too risky or risqué. They merely enjoyed being able to be cozier in public but still left the incendiary behavior for the privacy of their home.

The slayer and the witch danced until the moon was high in the sky and then went home and made love until it was touching the horizon. Willow's fears and doubts were erased by the sensual sounds of the music and the magical caresses of her brunette. The redhead was in love with her slayer and was falling in love with Sao Paulo.

Life continued for the couple, and since Willow was still blocked with her witchy locator spells, Kennedy decided she needed to start patrolling, there being no slayers to contact yet. Willow even adjusted her schedule to try locating during the evening hours while her slayer was out. Willow was trying anything to get herself out of her slump. Kennedy started patrolling; she went by herself at first, not wanting Willow or Miguel involved until she could size up the extent of danger. She had envisioned the possibility of Willow helping on occasion but wouldn't chance it unless she was certain there would be no danger to her witch. The slayer patrolled several cemeteries and old abandoned warehouse districts and in the beginning had very good results. Sao Paulo, it turned out, may not have been on a hellmouth, but it did have its demonic past that started to show its ugly head after Kennedy's arrival.

That the city had a demonic presence was no fluke. In fact, every city picked by Giles for the Scoobies had a specific connection with demons and evil of all sorts. Hellmouths, as it turned out, were much like volcanoes. Some were active while others lay dormant beneath the ground waiting for their birth. Throughout time, demonic activity had spread through the world but had concentrated over hellmouths. Like volcanoes, a hellmouth would bubble well beneath the surface and eventually break through spewing negative energy and forces until all its power was drained or the hellmouth was closed as in the case of Sunnydale. This process was as constant as the revolutions of the earth and it occurred everywhere. That was the reason for the differing locations throughout history of the vampire slayers. The Chosen was usually from an area of strong demonic interference. At one point in time that had been China, then England. In recent memory, it had been the United States. However, that didn't mean that evil took a siesta in the 'un-chosen' areas. Vampires and other demons existed, just not in the extensive numbers as over a hellmouth.

Brazil, as it turned out, was beginning to show signals of increased demonic activity; the first sign that energies were shifting slightly to the potential of a new hellmouth, the possibility of an evil 'volcano' gurgling far inside earth's core. Vampires, being creatures in need of blood, chose highly populated cities such as Sao Paulo and Rio de Janeiro for their hunting territory. Kennedy quickly met her city's delegation. There weren't many at first. She'd slay maybe three or four a week. Her patrolling with Faith and Buffy while in LA did give her good practice and tips for her encounters in Brazil. She found the vampires there to be much like those in Los Angeles; she never had much trouble dusting their asses. Her expertise in capoeira proved to be no match for the demons she met. A few quick moves, several unexpected punches to the head and abdomen and the demons would be on their backs on the ground or pinned up against a headstone, a dazed look on their faces as they watched the wooden spike thrust into their heart. Kennedy had actually practiced her Portuguese on the vampires. She'd carry on conversations with them differing the topics, asking them about the weather, directions to a museum and even how they wanted to die-"Want it fast with a stake to the heart or slow by me ripping your head off?" Kennedy never did intend the latter. When she'd get a violent reaction from her attacker, she knew she had said it right.

Though her slaying was mostly uneventful, she did have some injuries more serious than in LA. She took a nasty cut to her arm from being pushed into an old iron gate and she got a dislocated shoulder from throwing a three hundred and fifty pound vamp over her head. That one surprised her; she never knew vampires got that big. None of her injuries occurred because she was in danger, because she was losing a fight or caught unprepared. She felt confident about her slaying which made Willow more at ease when her slayer left at night. Besides her own witchy problems, the redhead also worried every time her brunette left to patrol. She wanted to go with her but wasn't sure if her magick issues might actually hinder Kennedy's work. She wanted to be with her slayer and help and make sure she was safe but knew she shouldn't go if there was a chance she'd make matters worse. Kennedy didn't want her to go because she knew the redhead was struggling with her own duties and wanted Willow to keep her concentration for that. "Don't worry about me Will…I'm ok out there, nothing bad will happen to me…You need to concentrate on finding slayers." In the end, Kennedy was right. But that didn't keep the redhead from holding her breath each time Kennedy stepped out the door and not relaxing until she heard the door open signaling her slayer's return.

Life in Sao Paulo passed quickly for the slayer and the witch; they played and worked and lived like couples do, for the most part. Kennedy trained by day and patrolled at night. Willow kept at her magick but there was a feeling that was pulling at her; she could feel her life segmenting, part astoundingly happy with Kennedy. The other part, a small sliver of her life, was slipping from her, slowly and silently escalating out of control. The uncertainty the witch had was a tiny voice but it had grown in volume and the redhead was beginning to be frightened that it would become a trumpet if not conquered. Willow's query was how to overcome it.

Adrift at sea – that is how Willow felt about her locating spells. After several months, the witch had been able to locate two slayers, both within the state of Sao Paulo, and had 'sensed' more without further luck of identifying a point of origin. She had never had this much difficulty with her power since she first started doing spells. Giles had given her some suggestions but they really didn't pan out. She had tried to change her routine, her dress, even her eating habits – nothing helped. Kennedy was as positive and uplifting as she could be. For that, Willow was grateful. Kennedy could see her witch struggling.

"What's wrong, Will?" she asked one night when her redhead was having trouble sleeping.

"Umm…there's just a lot of things going on up here…kinda busy," the redhead replied while touching her finger to her head.

"Anything I can do to help?" Willow could hear the concern in her brunette's voice. Willow knew her situation was one problem the slayer couldn't make go away, couldn't battle for her. But there was a temporary fix that always worked. Willow rolled over and took her lover in a strong embrace.

"Well, you could distract me…for a while." Chocolate eyes met green, gazing at her seductively.

With a smile, "Ok, if I have to…" Kennedy's diversion worked…and worked the many times she 'helped' her witch thereafter.

In addition, anything that the witch suggested might assist her to get the monkey off her back, the brunette was ready and willing to do or get. Kennedy paid special attention to make sure that Willow didn't have mundane household issues to worry about. The slayer did the laundry, the dishes and the cleaning. If it weren't for the fact that Willow found cooking for her slayer therapeutic, she would have gladly done that too. Willow was in a slump, needing a way out.

"Why don't you go see the coven ladies you talked to before?" Kennedy knew she could offer no real help to her struggling witch; slaying was her expertise, not witchcraft.

"I really don't know them that well…I don't want to impose." Willow was hesitant to seek help from the coven located in Porto Cuyaba, about two hours west of Sao Paulo. She had talked to members briefly when Giles asked her to make contact and inform them of her and Kennedy's arrival. He told Willow they could be of assistance if needed when contacting slayers. Willow wasn't sure this is the kind of assistance the coven would have expected.

"It's worth a shot, Will…you've tried everything else. Who knows, maybe they got some magic Amazonian fruit juice that'll open up your slayer airwaves…If nothing else it'll be a nice ride out there." Willow ingested her girlfriend's words and knew she was right. 'What have I got to lose?' she thought.

"You want me to come?" Surprise was in the brunette's voice. She thought this would be a private matter for Willow.

"Of course I want you to come. I don't wanna do this alone. I'd like you to be there if you want?" Willow wasn't sure if Kennedy's question intimated she didn't want to participate.

"If you want me there, you got me…you know I'd follow you anywhere." The words soft and sure.

Tomorrow came and the two women headed out early in the morning to meet the witches that Willow hoped would have an answer to her most perplexing problem. On the way, the women were unusually quite, Kennedy knowing how serious this was to her girl and Willow juggling the many emotions that were bubbling in her mind. As Kennedy drove, Willow looked at her brunette and pondered how lucky she was to have the woman in her life. When she was with Kennedy, she was as happy as she had ever been. She treasured the girl and loved their time together. She really enjoyed living with the slayer; life was exciting, a new adventure always waiting around the corner. She not only felt like an equal with Kennedy but knew that the brunette, in her heart, saw her as one also. They were partners, completely. Willow was also amazed at the maturity of her girlfriend. No one would know from Kennedy's actions and demeanor that she was only twenty. The woman carried herself with such confidence. Willow gathered that was partly from her watcher but mostly from growing up with the formidable father figure she had. Willow could honestly say that when it came to her relationship with Kennedy, she was ecstatically happy.

But deep down, not so deep if Willow really thought about it, there was sorrow in the witch. She tried not to let it show. She had always been the emotional train wreck, the one with 'more baggage than an airport.' Kennedy was the rescuer, the strong one. She knew her brunette was happy in Brazil and she didn't want to detract from that. So Willow tried to keep the feeling buried, but it kept coming back like a bad rash. On the ride to the coven, the redhead examined that feeling; it was one of loss. Plainly put, she missed her friends. Despite her joy with Kennedy, the redhead strongly missed Buffy and Xander…and Giles. They were her support for so many years; they were her family. She missed joking with Xander and having late night hot chocolate with Buffy. There were no more hours of researching and complaints from Xander on how bored he was. Willow missed her talks with Buffy about nothing. The emails and telephone calls eased the pain some, but their physical presence was what she wanted. Sometimes, the more often she spoke to either on the phone, the worse she would feel. Worse yet, she felt almost like she was betraying Kennedy for feeling so bad about missing her friends. She wanted to tell her slayer but feared that Kennedy might see it as a withdrawal from her by the witch, a small retreat signaling the brunette wasn't needed as much. Kennedy had had too much distance in her life; Willow didn't want to do anything that might make Kennedy think it was happening again. The sorrow stayed and she said nothing.

Willow's introspection on four wheels was disrupted when they pulled into the small town and headed for the address on the piece of paper held in the witch's hand. After several right and left hand turns down lazy dirt roads, the women came to a halt in the driveway of their appointed destination. As they got out of the car, several women came out of the small, white wood house and walked in their direction. "Hello, boa vinda dos amigos."

Willow looked at Kennedy nervous. She was picking up the language but still struggled, especially when not spoken very slowly. She felt comfortable in the market, where she was learning the words and phrases for the items they bought. But open dialogue was still a taunting experience for her. "It's ok, Will…they just said welcome." Kennedy then said hello back and asked if any of them spoke English.

"Ah, yes…I…little English…" Just then, another woman walked out of the house.

"You must be Willow and Kennedy…welcome…welcome to our coven." Willow's face relaxed immediately. "Please let me introduce everyone. I am Mishline…that one there…" she said pointing to the heavy set woman in the red cotton dress, "…is Sarianna…and next to her is Olga. I'm afraid I'm the only one who speaks English…although I gather Olga has tried out her sparse English on you already."

"Yes…and she did quite well." Willow smiled back. The women continued to get acquainted and soon found themselves in the house drinking, what else in Brazil but, coffee. They talked and Kennedy tried to speak Portuguese whenever she could. She wanted to learn as much of the language as possible and knew that was easier if she forced herself into it. Even Willow was attempting her best to speak 'Brazilian'. It astonished her how easily Kennedy had picked up the language. She remembered commenting about it to her several weeks into their stay. "Ya know…I guess I've always had an ear for that…it probably helped that I learned Spanish early on…lots of these languages have things in common…so, not so hard to pick up." Willow knew her brunette was being modest. Kennedy really did have a gift when it came to languages. Willow was thankful for that at the moment.

After awhile, Mishline decided to get to the reason for the visit. "You said you were having trouble with your spells, Willow. What exactly is the problem?"

Mishline looked the witch over, concentrating on every inch of her. At times, Willow thought she was looking through her. Several minutes later, Mishline got up out of her chair and said, "Come with me," as she directed Willow with her hand. The redhead stood up and followed as Mishline led her out of the kitchen and out the back door. The rest of the women remained. Kennedy stared at the other two, not knowing what to do or say.

"Mishy good…find witch…way…" Olga stated then smiled, pleased with her English.

Willow followed Mishline as she walked, and walked. They must have traveled a mile before the woman stopped. "Look around Willow, what do you see?" The redhead scanned her surroundings. She was in the middle of the woods, different than back home. Here, there was tall flowing grass underneath a mixture of giant palms, red wood and bachaa trees. The breeze was gently blowing and she could hear birds, lots of them. Willow looked at her hostess unsure what she expected from her.

"That's part of your problem, Willow…you're doubting yourself…you know what you want to say but you're holding back." That was right, Willow knew.

"But that's not all…I sense something inside…something pulling at you." 'She is good,' Willow thought.

"You have so much power inside Willow…you've had problems with control, right?" Willow thought the woman was uncanny.

Mishline smiled. "The most powerful always do…it's a trade-off almost…like the gods decided 'if you get this much power, we need to make you struggle with it'…" She looked intently at Willow. "You'll never get control until you realize your power is entwined with your emotions, on all levels." Willow looked confused.

"You can't bury feelings inside and expect things to be normal…the key is to accept your emotions and channel them. You must learn how to gather those that will hasten your words and divert those that do not. It's not a matter of blocking things out but placing them in the proper area of your psyche.

"I'm not sure I understand…I thought I've been trying to do just that." Willow was totally confused now.

The Brazilian went on to describe to Willow the essence of her mystical power. Being a witch was not only understanding the connectedness of the universe but truly believing in being part of that connectedness. It was not enough to know that energy came from all around; a witch had to understand that she was as much a part of that energy as the earth, the air or the heavens. All emotion, good or bad, was a part of the individual, even if that person didn't acknowledge or accept it. They talked about ways for Willow to get closer to her true life force, that inner gateway to the full power she had inside. The two witches discussed ways for the redhead to cleanse her mind and sweep away the unnecessary in order to focus on channeling her energies into desired actions.

Mostly, they talked about each other, how they got where they were, and why. Mishline was thirty-nine years old, born in Brazil but educated in the United States. She had once thought of a life in medicine at a prestigious big city hospital. But the call of her heritage pulled her back. She was a Wiccan and a few harrowing events led her to the conclusion that her place was with her coven. She never regretted the decision.

After hearing Willow's condensed version of her life story, the Brazilian nodded her head. "No wonder you're having problems…you've never gotten a chance to concentrate on just you." Mishline felt some concern for the redhead. She could tell the woman had always fostered her magick for some cataclysmic purpose. When she was able to take time for her own needs, she over used the magicks, getting lost in their magnitude. She knew the younger witch also had learned magick from books and a few close people. She had never been around a coven, never saw the daily life of witches, those for whom magick was not just something they could do but was who knew were.

By the time they got back to the house, it was almost three. Willow didn't even notice she had missed lunch. She wasn't hungry; she was too intrigued and inspired by Mishline's words to feel hunger. When she and Kennedy went to leave, the coven women invited them back, telling Willow, "You are part of a great lineage, a history of amazing women…you should get to know and experience that." The two women's drive home was nothing like their approach. Willow talked the whole way. She recanted the information from Mishline and Kennedy listened intently, knowing that her girl had found the answers to her problems. The brunette knew her witch would make many more trips to visit her kindred sisters. Both women had a sense that great change was ahead for the witch.

Immense change did occur. It was not as immediate or as dramatic as Scrooge's epiphany after the visits from the three Christmas ghosts, but it was there and tangible. It was as if a dark cloud had been lifted from the redhead. Before her second visit to the coven, she was able to sense, if not actually locate, about a dozen more slayers. This was drastically better than anything she'd done to date. And, it didn't take as much effort on her part. She visited the coven every week for a month after the first visit and also talked to them on the phone. She met additional women who were part of the coven along with a few medicine men, revered for their insight. Afterwards, she visited at least several times a month.

Kennedy decided early on that this was an experience meant for her witch, not her. Though she liked the women they'd met, their focus was on an area that was outside that of the slayer's. She felt like a fifth wheel at times. Kennedy was happy that Willow had found some friends, people that shared her passion, her destiny. The brunette had known for some time that Willow missed her Scoobies; the redhead didn't have to tell her. She could hear it in her girl's voice when she talked to them and see it in her actions when she moped around the house afterwards. Since the visits to the coven, Willow's phone calls to her dear friends changed; she still missed them but somehow she had a revived sense of their friendship, one for which distance didn't bring her sadness.

On the days Willow went on her visits, Kennedy stayed home and read, many times from the magick books Willow brought. Some days, she'd train with Miguel or investigate more of the city, the good and not so good sections. Other times, she'd call her father and update him on their activities and their life. Of course, his first concern was the finishing of her education. Kennedy and Willow had discussed the matter already when they initially arrived.

"Will, you've only got a semester in order to finish…you should do it while we're here."

"But there's no UC Sunnydale anymore. I don't even know where I'd go or how to get my transcript." Willow had thought about her college status since the implosion of Sunnydale. Graduating was very important to her but with all the events that had happened she was starting to think the heavens were against her actually being a college graduate. This was just one more thing weighing on the mind of the witch during their stay in Brazil.

"Transcripts are kept at the state level too…California's department overseeing the Universities in their system will have it. You can either transfer and do your last semester at a college down here or do correspondence courses through a college in the U.S…I'd hate to see ya keep putting this off." Kennedy had done research on the matter, initially for herself and the benefit of her own father.

"It's just that with all I'm gonna be doing, I don't want to take too much on. We're not gonna be here forever…so maybe I should wait til we get back home. Then I'll be able to go to a place that's close…get everything done like it should be." The witch was legitimately concerned with having too much on her plate. A new country, new language and serious slayer related responsibilities had already gotten the redhead nervous. Kennedy could see the concern in her girlfriend's eyes.

"Ok, Will…whatever you think is best…I don't mean to push. I just want you to finish…I know how much it matters to you." The brunette felt like she was causing some stress for her witch because of her pressuring. She backed off.

"I know you just want what's best for me…and this is for right now. When we get back, we'll both go back and finish college."

That remark was based on Kennedy's prior decision, after discussion between the two, that she was going to put off college for a while. She had become a slayer and her life's calling was all she thought about now. Kennedy wanted to concentrate on being the best she could be, on getting used to her new strengths, senses and obligations. There were only two things in her life that mattered – Willow and slaying, and Kennedy knew her loyalty and devotion to each came in that order. She wasn't conflicted about the college issue; it could wait as long as needed.

"But you told your father you'd finish." Willow wasn't going to let Kennedy allow college to pass by. She had seen how Buffy struggled with the issue and how going made the blonde slayer a happier, better person and slayer. If Willow had to play the guilt card using her girl's father, so be it.

"I know Will, but we're talking about slaying…how can college match up to that?" Kennedy didn't want to let her dad down and she didn't like backing away from a promise, but her destiny pulled so strongly at her.

"It doesn't, but that doesn't mean you should forget about college…There's lots of slayers now, and it may not be the full time job like it was like for Buffy…You need to think about your future, Kenne." A small smile crept onto the brunette's face. Those were the same words spoken to her by her watcher. She knew they were true then and now. "Ok, Red…but I'm not thinking about the subject anymore until we get back home." The witch accepted her victory and the issue was never discussed again.

Kennedy wished the same had been true for her father. Every time she talked to him the subject came up. He'd ask if she'd contacted Columbia about readmission or looked into transferring. No matter how many times she told him she was putting things off until she got back, he'd still ask. Kennedy decided her father was just being a dad, a nagging pain in the butt about education being the most important thing. She liked his concern; it showed he was trying to be a part of her life.

While Kennedy found ways to fill up her days during her girl's coven visits, Willow realized that there was never enough time to fit in all that was needed when she did go see the witches. She had come to know the women by name and called them friends. The witch was grateful to be among a group of people that shared in her experiences. Well, no one had tried to destroy the earth, but they all had their own particular story of despair and the struggle back to the light. One woman, Alcrysia, had lost her six year old to meningitis and had sunk so low that anyone who came near her was struck back by a blast of energy. She wouldn't eat or sleep; she wanted to die. If not for the steady and loving presence of her coven she would have. They helped her out of her despair and back to the living. The woman was now the proud mother of twin boys, and despite always having a deep sense of loss for her first born, she was able to move on and do great things.

Willow soon realized that she had never had the deep connection to other witches before; she never grew up as one in a community. She started with witchcraft because of Buffy. What she knew came out of a book. The Wiccan group at college was really a bunch of feminists with a different slant on things, that is except for Tara. The blonde witch was Willow's only real connection and support for witchcraft. Tara had come from a family of witches; that was why she had a better and more revered understanding of the way. But even with Tara, there were still so many blank spots. Tara's expertise and strength were limited; everyone knew that Willow was much more powerful than her meek girlfriend. When Tara died, Willow lost the one attachment, the only support, she felt she had. The coven in England helped and Willow now realized they could have filled in the emptiness, but she was too devastated from Tara's death to view them as such. Her time in England was for her own self healing, just to get her to the point of understanding the place witchcraft held in her life, in her. She was only trying to stay alive in England, to keep the grief at bay so she could breathe in and out and make it through another day.

Now, with the witches she'd met in Brazil, she wanted more from them. She desperately yearned to study the ways of her craft. The initial thing she learned is that you could be a witch and not a wiccan, and visa versa. Wicca was a religion based upon female goddesses being the supreme beings; witches were those infused with magickal powers. Willow liked being a jewish gay witch, it fit her quirky style. The redhead also discovered that witches, much like doctors and lawyers, specialized. There were those, like Sarianna, who were akin to general practitioners, jack of all trades and master of none. Others like Mishline were proficient in very specific areas. "It's no different than some people being good in futebol while others are good with painting." Mishline's gift was vision. She had the keen ability to sense the aura of a person, to decipher a person's internal strife and then, through spells or potions, help the individual to a more tranquil life. "Then there are the few like you, Willow…the truly powerful." Mishy had known almost immediately upon meeting Willow that she was in the presence of great energy and power. The fact that the American didn't yet fully fathom the extent of her capabilities was no surprise to her. 'The great ones always take time,' she said to herself upon meeting the redhead.

Willow's visits with the coven were eye opening. Theirs was witchcraft learned not from a book, but from life, the generational imprinting of the art form on their hearts and soul. It was witchcraft from the mother earth…of the earth. Their magick was from the mingling of native Indian and African cultures, the mystical ways of ancestors from a different land and time. The women didn't know witchcraft; they were witchcraft. All of the delicate intricacies of the art, the potions, their ingredients and the spells were etched in their subconscious. They knew twenty ways to make the same potion, ten ways to word a spell. They aided each other to be better and chastised when some one was going too far astray. They were friends and equals despite their own very differing personalities and qualities. There was a symbiotic way of life which bred harmony. Willow was constantly stupefied by the depths of their generous nature. They helped her and, unbeknownst to her, the redhead gave back also. She helped them see the potential for greatness out in the world, the constant need for further development. They saw her kind nature and thirst for knowledge.

After many hours with her new sisters, Willow started to realize how lost she really had been. Her first understanding was that, if not for Kennedy, she truly would have never made it as far as she did. It was that beautiful brown eyed whirlwind that brought her back to life, made her believe in herself again and gave her the lust for life. But underneath that happiness, and she was happy with Kennedy, Willow realized she was like a ship lost at sea, drifting without a rudder, without true direction. She had always had Buffy to lead the way and set the course; Buffy to decide the action needed. Willow still saw herself with Buffy, and in life in general, as a sidekick. She knew she had always felt like that in relationships; she had with Oz and even Tara. Kennedy, though, was different. The brunette had from the start thought of her as a powerful person. Willow knew Kennedy's view of her wasn't based on the fact that she was younger. In many ways, the redhead knew Kennedy was more mature than she was. Kennedy had always viewed her as, at the very least, an equal, always saw Willow as a leader, even if the redhead didn't.

Willow grasped that she was scared to take the plunge of being in charge, a leader. Her security of failure being someone else's burden would be gone. She would have to go out on that stage and do her best, make her own decisions, and hope it was enough for the on looking crowd. The coven and Kennedy planted the seed that she was an in-control, powerful witch, commander of her own destiny. She decided to help that grow and flourish. "It's the difference between knowing you've done your best and accepting the consequences, even defeat…and hoping you've done your best and that it'll be enough to win." The words Mishy told her finally made sense. Willow was beginning to truly come into her power in an all encompassing way. She believed.

"I could wake you up this way all the time…if you'd like," Kennedy said smiling as she wiped her mouth and kissed her way up back up Willow's body, infant beads of sweat starting to glisten off the witch's aroused skin.

"Wouldn't work…every time you do this, we stay in bed for another couple hours…we'd never get any where on time." Willow was still coming down from the waves that had ripped through her body.

The redhead had to admit she loved being pulled from her sleep by the expert techniques of her slayer. It always started like the feelings were part of a dream; she often dreamt of her and Kennedy together. Then the urge would increase until the veil of slumber gave way to semi conscious realization. That's when her mind would let go; the boundless expanse of the dream world pleasures mixing with the real life physical feelings. Willow often wondered if that's what sex was like on an acid trip, everything enhanced and surreal. Then full consciousness would take over and her body would react to every touch from her slayer, spiraling her out of control.

In the months since their arrival in Sao Paulo, Kennedy had become an aficionado in making love to Willow. Her natural abilities in the subject matter were taken to a whole new height after discovering the subtle moves and moods that brought her witch to the brink of ecstasy. And Kennedy was anything but redundant. They'd made love in every room of the house; on most of the pieces of furniture, the coffee table being too dangerous but the kitchen table fine; and in all the various positions Willow knew and some she didn't – she was sure Kennedy improvised on those. The brunette was also anything but predictable. She could be gentle and tender as if their love making was a holy sacrament; other times she was wild and primal like a panther stalking a mate. Her moods always matched Willow's, never pressing for intimacy of whatever form or disposition.

But Kennedy was not the lone initiator in their relationship. Since Willow's trips to the coven and her 'discovery' of her true inner self, the redhead had found a new source of desire. There were times when the redhead's body felt as if it were humming with sexual tension as she waited for her slayer to walk through the door after a night of patrolling. Kennedy wouldn't even be able to put down her spike or crossbow before Willow was all over her, kissing and roaming hands over her lover's taught muscles fresh from the fight. Her worry for the safe return of her girlfriend only added to the redhead's heated want of the brunette, for the worry turned to craving upon hearing her footsteps at the entrance. It wasn't only patrolling episodes that spurred the witch. She had become more demonstrative in general.

Kennedy observed and welcomed the new 'sexed-up' Willow. She was still shy and respectable in public, but was definitely coming into her own when they got behind closed doors. One morning, a naked Kennedy was in the kitchen, standing at and facing the counter, looking at nothing while she drank her coffee. Willow, wearing only a thin satin bathrobe, came out from the bedroom and saw her slayer. Kennedy's lack of modesty and total ease with her own body fascinated the redhead. She sensed that Kennedy didn't have doubts of her body image, that she knew she was beautiful, that she always had been. The redhead wondered what it would feel like to look in a mirror and never see that skinny, gawky fifteen year old that still haunted her at times. Seeing Kennedy, that skinny girl receded and the mature yearning redhead took her place.

She quietly walked behind Kennedy and gently wrapped one arm low around her waist, barely grazing the golden skin with her fingers. At the same time, her other arm made its way up and across the brunette's chest until her hand rested on the slayer's breast. Willow never made a sound; she merely started to massage her lover's breast and glide her hand in a gentle figure eight across her stomach. Lips teased the side of Kennedy's neck and worked their way behind her ear, across her shoulder. The witch kept her movements and added the contact of skin on skin as she pressed into her girl. When she elicited a soft moan from her slayer, who by now had placed her cup of coffee on the counter, the hand on the brunette's stomach slowly made a southern descent to a waiting and ready, wet center. Willow's fingers first rubbed and then, when she had her slayer's body rocking to the desired fervor, dipped inside. Neither her lips nor other hand ever faltered in their missions. The witch maintained her silent barrage on Kennedy until she felt the girl's inner muscles tighten and the spasms roll through the brunette. Willow hung onto her slayer as her muscles contracted and twitched in delight. When the ride was over, the redhead kissed her slayer's ear and whispered, "Good morning, baby…" Then she let go and walked back into the bedroom. All that just from the sight of her slayer in naked form.

The couple's love life was not the only thing that was going well. Willow's locating spells had also taken flight. Though not an overnight turn around success, within a few weeks of her initial visits to her wiccan friends, the mojo magick juices were flowing. The witch had located, pinpointed and named eight slayers in and around Sao Paulo. By their fifth month in the country, Willow had found fourteen more. There were still other slayers out there; she could feel it. But because of the difficulty they had in making contact with some, the woman had to focus some of their time on that part of their mission.

The meeting with the first slayer they contacted, Maria Guzman, went terribly. The women took Miguel with them as an interpreter if needed. That was the only thing they did right. Maria was a sixteen year old who lived just outside the city proper. The three 'welcoming committee' members decided the upfront honest approach was best. Kennedy recounted how it had worked for her watcher. The three proceeded to walk up to the girl's house and, when not invited inside by a man who introduced himself as Maria's father, gave the man a speech about the destiny of his daughter, right from the front porch. The door got slammed in their faces. When the door opened after they knocked again, they were met with the barrel of a shot gun. At that moment, they deduced their strategy needed tweaking and hurriedly left the premises.

They finally did make contact, but with Maria first while she was walking home from school, and they didn't gang up on her. The first time, it was only Kennedy who had learned a few choice sentences in Portuguese in order to break the ice and let the girl know she wasn't alone, that there were others like her. Once trust was established, the rest came relatively easy. The three discussed with Maria the slayer history, Willow's spell and her resulting new destiny, if she wanted it. When Giles and the rest were setting up their plan, they knew that the new slayers would have to come to their duty willingly. The shear number of slayers due to the spell allowed the girls to have a choice: be a slayer and fight evil with all its consequences or stay with their life as is and keep secret their slayer powers, never using them for personal gain or ill will. Maria decided, after a calmer and less firearm loaded meeting with her father, to join the fledgling international slayer network. Maria kept in contact with Miguel and eventually moved into an apartment building that the new Council had provided in Sao Paulo for just that purpose. She started training with Kennedy and Miguel. Kennedy, however, didn't take her on patrol. The training of newly found slayers was left to the discretion of Miguel and he wanted the girls he took under his wing to be of strong mind and body before they challenged the forces of evil.

Contact with other slayers went more smoothly after that initial blunder. For some girls, it took more time to explain their destiny; others caught on immediately having instinctively known their new body had a purpose. Most girls chose the slayer's life, but a few declined. In a couple instances the contacts were mere children, ten and eleven years old, respectively. In those cases, Kennedy insisted that the parents and child be informed of their daughter's station. But she refused to let the girls start slayer training. She had lost a great deal of her own childhood, her innocence, because of her potential as a slayer. She had been through emotional battles brought on only due to her strive for the slayer perfection. She didn't want to see that happen to other girls, especially now that there were so many. Kennedy just wanted the little girls to be able to be little girls for as long as they could be. "You're absolutely right, Kenne." Willow saw the protective side of her girlfriend come out on this particular issue and she also didn't want another to go through what her brunette had. Even Miguel understood; the importance of a girl's childhood was not lost on the bachelor.

Not all slayers were easy to contact. Some were located in the Amazon and other environmentally or politically sensitive areas. Travel into and out of some of the locations was dangerous or forbidden altogether. This caused unexpected delays in contacting the new slayers. On those assignments, Kennedy asked Willow to stay home and she went with Miguel. The man had become a life source in many ways. He was an enormous assistance with the language. He was well informed about his country and had many contacts which came in handy when they were in particularly dangerous scenarios. Kennedy and Willow soon concluded that the man was trustworthy and honest. He kept his word and always did as requested. On the trips where Willow stayed behind, she felt a little less worried knowing that the Brazilian was watching her slayer's back.

By the end of December, twenty-four slayers were found and contacted. Several were living and training in Sao Paulo, while others made weekly or semiweekly trips. Whoever showed up at Kennedy's training facility got a workout. The slayer's days of leading training sessions at Buffy's house flooded her mind. She much preferred her current situation; these girls were slayers waiting to be made better, faster and smarter. Kennedy liked her role as a leader and teacher. She had learned much from her watcher, Sinclair, and tried to bring that same dedication to the new slayers. Between that and her increasing confidence in her own slaying proficiency, the brunette was on cloud nine. Having Willow by her side pushed her happiness further still.

In the months that the two women shared in Brazil, they celebrated many things. They always rejoiced on their mother country's holidays like Labor Day, Halloween and Thanksgiving. On Christmas, they invited Miguel and the other slayers over. Even though she was Jewish, Willow still enjoyed the sentiment of the day, if not the religious connotation. On that day the witch and the slayer also enjoyed a long conference call with Giles, Buffy, Dawn and Xander. Even Faith and Andrew were in on the call. Everyone jabbered about how they missed the rest, how their lives were going and the status of their own particular slayer finding mission. The Scoobies traded stories of the events in their lives and thanks went around to all after presents sent internationally were opened. It seemed also that romance was in the air. Buffy mentioned the name of a few suitors that were dogging her in Italy. The listeners even heard Xander drop the name of a slayer that the rest could tell he thought highly of. Faith said Wood was fine but Willow and Kennedy gave each other a look that signaled that neither could tell if the two were still together. All in all, it was a great, if not unorthodox, Christmas holiday.

It wasn't only the big holidays the lover's celebrated. On December 7^th, in the early evening, Willow came back from a trip to the coven. Her eyes widened with the view as she walked in the door. There were lit candles everywhere, soft music in the cd player and a bottle of expensive wine on the kitchen table next to fresh flowers. Willow saw Kennedy standing in the middle of the living room, wearing nothing out of the routine-jeans and a t-shirt, but the woman looked dazzling nonetheless.

"Welcome home, Will…happy anniversary." Willow's mind was a blank. She had no idea what Kennedy was talking about. Their first date, resulting in that first tumultuous kiss, wasn't until February and they hadn't slept together until three months later. Willow didn't know what to say. Seeing the confusion in green eyes, Kennedy continued.

"It was one year ago today that I walked into Buffy's house and first saw you." There was a big smile on her face. Instant remembrance washed over the redhead's face, 'I shoulda known that' she thought.

"I'm sorry, baby…I didn't remember…" This was obviously important to her brunette; it would be important to Willow also.

"That's ok, Red…I didn't expect you to remember…I do because that's the day my life changed, forever…because of you." Willow could hear the sincerity and love in the words. She went to her girl and took her in her arms. "I love you so much, Kenne…more each day." The women celebrated their secret holiday by emptying the bottle of wine and then another. Their observance of the newly crowned anniversary continued in the bedroom where both women took extra effort to show the other just how much she really was loved. The two eventually started drifting to sleep entangled in each other arms, slipping into the dream world thinking that life was perfect and they were perfect together.

The package arrived the day after they returned from Rio. Willow had located a slayer in Del Greattio, Rio de Janeiro. The two women had actually been working very hard and both saw this as a chance to mix business with pleasure. Miguel couldn't go, so the slayer and the witch took the one hour flight to Rio then rented a car at the airport to find their newest slayer. Their meeting went well, one of those where the girl, a seventeen year old by the name of Layla, knew something extraordinary had happened to her several months back and was waiting for some explanation. By the end of the day, they had another convert to the slayer world. Kennedy gave her Miguel's information and told the girl to contact him.

After their work was done, the lover's went to a nice hotel on the beach at the south end of Rio and took in a little rest and relaxation for the next two days. Kennedy had wanted to go to Rio for some time. She had heard it was a paradise and the place to let lose and get lost in a good time. She'd heard right. Willow and the slayer spent two days basking in the sun – the weather was beginning to scorch it being summer in Brazil – and clubbing throughout the night. They drank and danced and made love, albeit inebriated and hurried, in a secluded and deserted cabana on the beach. It was a hedonistic few days; just what the two women needed. When they left to go back to Sao Paulo, they were certain Rio had not seen the last of them.

Their flight home was the last of the day and they didn't get to their apartment until late. They went directly to bed. The two woke up the next day, refreshed, invigorated and ready to take on the world. Everything in their lives was on course and running smooth. At ten thirty that morning, a FedEx truck pulled up in front of their complex and the driver exited with a small package in his hand. His knuckles wrapped on the door to the couple's place. Willow answered and signed for the package from Kennedy's father addressed to the brunette. "Kenne…it's a package from your dad." Since their 'showdown' at the Prescott mansion, Kennedy's relationship with the man had changed. She couldn't say it was great, but it was better than it had been. Although, given the state of their relationship beforehand, Kennedy realized anything had to be better. But, they did talk more on the phone, real conversations. Jackson Prescott was told of Willow's propensity for witchcraft and the couple's mission in Brazil. Her father, on occasion, sent papers to Kennedy concerning the trust fund established for her by her grandfather, the one that had been paying her a monthly allowance since her eighteenth birthday. "So that's where you get your money…" Willow had wondered but thought it impolite to ask.

Willow handed Kennedy the package and headed for their bedroom to change. The brunette thought nothing of it, expecting yet more paperwork for her to review, sign and send back. When she took the FedEx envelope off, she turned the rectangular, brown paper wrapped package over to see the front side. That's when she froze. She just stared at the object in her hand. She didn't know how long she had remained that way when Willow finally came out of the bedroom, dressed for the day. "What he'd send, Kenn?" The redhead also assumed it was financial paperwork. Receiving no response, the witch turned to her girl and saw the look of total bewilderment on her girlfriend's face.

"It's not from my dad…" She corrected herself, "…it is but not the package." She handed Willow the small note that had been taped to the front of the box. Willow read it out loud. "I'm sending this to you…for you to decide what to do with it."

Then Willow looked at the package. It was addressed, hand written, to Kennedy at her New York home. "Who's it from?" Willow still didn't know what would make her slayer so silent.

Kennedy heard the words but didn't know if she actually said them out loud. She stared at the hand writing on the brown paper. After fifteen years, she still knew her mother's script, her looping y's and t's. Brown eyes seized onto the return address:

"She lives here in Brazil-" the brunette said softly. She immediately realized her mother assumed she still lived with her father.

Willow barely heard her slayer speak. She watched as Kennedy just stood there, eyes glued to the package in her hands. The redhead couldn't imagine what was going through her slayer's mind. She went to her girlfriend and gently placed her hand on Kennedy's back.

Willow kept silent; she didn't know how to proceed. The redhead was certain for the both of them that this event before them was the last thing they ever expected to happen. Kennedy had told Willow the sad story of her mother's desertion, the blink of an eye visit when she was ten and the absolutely no contact in all the years following. The brunette described how she felt as a little girl thinking her mother had left somehow because of her. She painfully told her redhead how, for the longest time she prayed every night to God to bring her mother back to her and how, as time passed, she lost faith in both her mother and God. The memories were so powerful that the slayer fought back the tears from the pain that had been buried for so long. During her fifteen years without the woman, Kennedy had longed for her mother's return, then hated the woman for abandoning her, and finally pretended to be unaffected by her desertion. She resigned herself to the fact that she would never see her mother again and had accepted that reality.

Now, there Kennedy stood holding her abandoned past in her hand. After several soundless minutes, she walked over to the bookshelf by the rocker and placed the package on the top shelf by the edge. She stared some more then went into their bedroom; Willow followed. "Baby…are you ok?" the words treading light.

"I'm fine…I just don't want to think about it right now…can we go to the market like we planned?" Willow didn't want to push her brunette on this monumental incident; she knew Kennedy had to work out her feelings without being coerced into rushed analysis. "Sure, Kenne…let's go."

Kennedy kept coming up with places that the two had to visit and had managed to keep them out of the house for most of the day. When they returned, the slayer walked through the living room, taking a quick look at the package, and went into the bathroom for a shower. She ignored the object and the subject for the rest of the night. In fact, the package remained in that exact location for two days. On the few times Willow tried to broach the subject, Kennedy snipped at her and told her she hadn't decided what to do and didn't want to talk about it. On the morning of the third day, Willow noticed that the package had moved. It was still unopened, but was now resting on the coffee table. She had no idea when Kennedy had moved it or what brought on that particular action.

That night, Willow was stirred from her sleep. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table – 4:03am. The space beside her was empty. She quietly got up when she heard a muffled sound. She walked to the end of the short hallway and looked into the living room. The full moon's rays shined through the kitchen window, immersing the room in subdued light. There, sitting cross-legged by the coffee table was Kennedy. On the table was the blue box she had brought from New York, her mother's articles laying on the lid that sat next to the small container. She was holding the packaged box in one hand, tracing her other hand's fingers over the hand writing…and crying.

Willow's heart broke for the brunette. Her brave, confident slayer was sobbing like a scared little girl lost in a sea of strangers. All the redhead wanted to do was take Kennedy in her arms, cradle her and wash away all the sorrow; let her know she was loved and that her witch would never leave her, that she would never be left alone again.

Slowly Willow walked to Kennedy who, hearing her footsteps, looked up at her witch. She quickly turned away and tried to stop the tears, not wanting her redhead to see her emotional collapse, but she couldn't stop the pain. It flowed out of her. After some time, the tears subsided and she wiped her face with her shirt sleeve. Grief-filled brown eyes searched those of green for an explanation.

"I don't know, baby." The redhead felt useless, not knowing what to say to ease her slayer's pain or how to make sense of the matter. She did the only thing she could think of; she sat down by her lover and gently held her. Kennedy put her face against Willow's chest and the tears resumed again. Then the brunette fought for control, took in a deep breath and composed herself. She looked questioning into green eyes.

"What do I do?" There was a tone of complete turmoil. Kennedy, the sure, take charge woman, was in a total state of confusion, drowning and not knowing which way to swim to shore. The brunette's past came crushing down on her. She experienced every raw emotion she had ever felt towards her mother in the last fifteen years. Why now? Why hadn't she kept in touch? Why did she leave? Kennedy remembered that short visit when she was ten and saw her mother for the last time, how it devastated her that her mother hadn't come back for her, had barely said hello. The woman didn't explain her absence, and her quick departure left Kennedy with a fresh gaping wound in her heart covering the scar that the woman's exit had caused five years earlier. Kennedy couldn't go through that again. Her life was full and she had all the love she needed from Willow; why chance on heart ache again. She could just throw the box away and forget about the woman forever. But she had a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that somehow this was different; she knew she certainly was. With Willow, she could handle any storm to her heart or head. She was conflicted and looked to her witch for help.

The redhead honestly didn't know how to answer her slayer's question. How could Kennedy, anyone for that matter, be expected to see clearly after all those years of abandonment, the death of a maternal relationship? Did the woman think that she could walk back into her daughter's life as if she'd never left? That's when it dawned on Willow; Kennedy's mother wasn't expecting anything. She knew her grave mistake and was leaving the decision to her daughter.

"She didn't have to put her address on it…she's leaving it up to you…do you want this to go further?" Willow knew Kennedy's choice was to open the package and her past or toss the thing out never to think about the woman again. Seeing the scared face of her girl, Willow knew the brunette's heart had already chosen the only real option.

"I need to know…once and for all." With that, Kennedy gingerly took off the brown wrapping paper and lifted the shallow lid off the white box which was inside. She found a necklace made of rubies, diamonds and gold beads..and a note. Kennedy took the paper, its words in the same handwriting as the address, and read it to Willow.

"Your Grandmother would have wanted you to have this. She loved you very much." Then after a pause, "I hope someday you can forgive me." She put down the note then studied the necklace.

"I remember…this was my grandmother's…she mustuv died." Kennedy sounded sad; she liked her grandmother from what she could remember of the old woman.

"I think she's hoping her daughter is the kind of person she never was…strong…and you are Kenne." Willow now knew Kennedy had to see this through to its end, heartbreaking or not. This part of her life had to be put to rest.

The slayer picked up the paper with her mother's address and put it with the note on the table. She stared at both, grasping the necklace in her hand. She was silent for a long time, the tears and anxiety replaced with serious contemplation. She was tired of the rollercoaster feelings for the woman that had plagued her for so long, tired of hours spent hypothesizing the reasons the woman left. She wanted answers; she needed answers.

"I have no life…" Those words haunted Gabriella Maria Gonzalez Prescott for years. She had left her husband and child fifteen years ago, those words the only explanation given. She had remorse for the fact that her innocent daughter had to be party to the departure; the girl was supposed to be in bed. But given the choice to stay or leave knowing Kennedy would carry that scene with her for life, Gabriella Gonzalez knew there was only one option – leave. She was suffocating to death, living a lie that was tearing her soul from her. Looking back at her decision now, the woman saw the terrified girl that she was and the price she had paid for allowing herself to give into the fear alone.

Gabriella was born in Costa Rica to a Brazilian mother, Francesca Arrujio, and a Costa Rican father, Alberto Gonzalez. Her mother had had three miscarriages and had resigned herself to being barren and childless until Gabriella was born when the woman was forty-one. She was the Gonzalez' only child and coming from a prominent and rich family, she was spoiled. The family moved to Brazil, first Olinda and then to Belo da Bahia, a few hours outside of Rio. Alberto was in real estate and within several years was one of the country's largest developers. Gabriella, or 'pajaro' – bird, as her mother nicknamed her because of her delicate voice, grew up in style and class. Her mother was a world traveler and her daughter went along on every trip. The girl had friends all over the world and as she grew up, she reveled in a life in the fast lane. By the time she was twenty-two, Gabriella knew most big world cities like the back of her hand. She was used to stepping out her front door into the whirlwind existence of a frantic metropolis. And she loved it.

Just as tantalizing was her view towards men. Gabriella was beautiful and she knew it. She had long, black raven hair, the darkest of brown eyes and light honey skin. She was tall and slender with a shape any woman would die for and every man wanted to possess. She was refined and well educated to add to her many charms. The woman could sweet talk a man out of his life's savings. Gabriella was well aware of the affect she had on men. There were always two or three men trying to court her once she turned sixteen. At first, she turned them away, but within a short time she began to play the men off each other, seeing what lengths they would go to try to capture her heart. None of them did. That's not to say that Gabriella was a virginal girl. Early on, she learned the difference between love and lust; she knew most of her gentlemen callers wanted what was between her legs more than that in her heart or mind. But the young woman was keen and she soon turned even that to her benefit. She led men on, taking the presents they gave her based on an implied promise of her in their bed. Paradise never came. She always managed to find some reason to break her deal, usually the reason was a wife that she knew about but had never initially let onto.

As cold as she could be with some men, whom she rationalized deserved to be made fools of, she was just as blazened with others. Gabriella Gonzalez liked attractive men, particularly American men. She lost her virginity at seventeen to a blonde blue eyed surfer from Hawaii who was in Rio "catching waves." Although she had been brought up to 'save' herself for marriage, the girl had too many raging desires to abstain until an event she wasn't even sure she wanted. On a blanket behind a sand dune, late one foggy night was the setting for her 'deflowering.' What she realized some years later was that her surfer boy had been, luckily, an amazing lover; he set the standard for others who followed. Having experienced sexual gratification, Gabriella searched for more of the same.

It wasn't that she led a double life; her parents knew she went out a lot. They, like most parents, just assumed their little girl was being 'good'. Gabriella kept her night life to herself, always playing the obedient, respectable daughter. Her late night rendezvous and slow descent into the drug scene of the dance clubs were hidden from all. The woman never really got 'into' drugs; she was never addicted or even a steady user. But she did find that cocaine took her to another level that completely freed her inhibitions, what little she had left. She was a casual user and had gotten to know several unseemly individuals because of it. When she nearly got busted during a stake out at one of her favorite dance establishments, she knew it was time to slow down. Her life was, though not out of control, certainly speeding well above the posted limit. So by age twenty-four, Gabriella stopped all forms of recreational activity that had been her main stay. She went back to being the dutiful daughter, shopping with her mother, and traveling with her father.

When she met Jackson Prescott, Gabriella Gonzalez lost her breath. He was handsome and charming and rich. She knew instantly that he was enamored with her. There was something about his confidence that was different from all the other men she'd met. After only a few minutes she wondered what he was like in bed. After inviting herself to dinner with him, she got to find out. They made passionate love that first night together and as they lay in bed afterwards, he sleeping soundly, Gabriella thought to herself 'this one is different.' The two were inseparable after that. She learned all about his family history and he, hers. They went traveling and jet setting. What the woman didn't know was that Jackson Prescott had been in rebellion from his family duties after meeting her. He had pushed his hectic business driven life to the side to be with the woman. In the beginning, she was all he wanted. After they had been together for a while, the adventurous life pulled at Gabriella once again. Her instincts told her that her lover would welcome the experiences; she was right. Together they lived that self-indulgent lifestyle that so often leads to danger. But with each other, they dipped their toes just enough to feel the excitement but never enough to be pulled under.

"I love you, Gabriella…please marry me." Jackson Prescott proposed after eight months. Gabriella knew that the man loved her with all his heart; he would have died for her. It was her feelings she was dissecting. She loved Jackson, she knew that much; he was everything she wanted in a man. But he lived in New York, and although she loved the city, she didn't know if marriage was a fit for her. She loved the free, independent spirit she had; no rules set by another or society. Marriage meant settling down, growing up and having a family. She didn't answer her lover's question right away. It wasn't until Jackson told her they wouldn't become like every other married couple, that they would stay free spirits that Gabriella said yes. That promise from her man and the not so hidden 'hints' from her mother to marry convinced her. She became Gabriella Maria Gonzalez Prescott three months later.

Almost immediately she got pregnant. That was the first time that Gabriella felt a piece of her float away. By the time Kennedy was born, they had moved into the mansion in West Mahopic, New York. She tried to be happy and when she held her child in her arms for the first time, she was. She stayed that way for several years. Her parents visited and she made trips with Kennedy in tow. Her and Jackson were going out and enjoying the city life. She loved her daughter and found pleasure in the fact that the tiny girl had an adventurous streak like her. Even before she could walk, Kennedy would hastily crawl about the mansion, never fearing where she was going, never searching to make sure mommy was near.

Slowly, over time though, the free, wild life yearnings came back to the mother. It coincided with her husband's renewed dedication to his family business. He spent hours telling her how important it was to him and them that he carry his responsibility. He was home less and less; she was alone more and more. Gabriella was a city girl and the solitude of the countryside was deafening to her. She needed noise, lots of bustling noise. As time passed, she became resentful of her situation. She began to take trips to her family. At first, she took Kennedy, then she went alone. After a while, she would say she was visiting relatives and then disappear for a few days. She didn't talk to her husband about her feelings, how she felt like she was slowly dying. He was blissfully ignorant, thinking the trips were what his wife needed to keep her happy.

By the time Kennedy was five, Gabriella knew she had to make a choice. She couldn't live the life of the good mother and loving wife. The love she had for her husband had dripped from her heart; her desire to live a 'normal' life a memory. The woman needed to be free…from everything. Each time leaving entered her thoughts, Kennedy's sweet face would coming rushing in. Gabriella knew only a heartless monster could leave her child, only the worst of society couldn't care for their young. But Kennedy wouldn't be alone she would tell herself; she had her adoring father. The woman fought between her need to leave and her love for her child; and she did love Kennedy – 'but not enough,' she resigned herself. For every time she convinced herself to stay for Kennedy's sake or to take the girl with her, a voice would creep back into her psyche and tell her she'd never be happy with her daughter in tow. That selfish drumming of reasons would tell her that she couldn't possibly live the life she wanted, needed, with the responsibilities entrenched in caring for a five year old. No matter how she struggled with it, she answer was always the same – she had to leave them both.

After her departure, Gabriella went back to her family in Brazil. She stayed there until her mother pressed her to go back to her husband. "This is a phase, pajaro, you can't abandon your family…your child." Francesca Gonzalez had been told by her daughter she had left her husband and daughter for good. The mother approved of Jackson; she knew he loved her daughter dearly. The grandmother thought the world of her grandchild. Kennedy reminded her of Gabriella. She wished she could have spent more time with the child, teach her their language and how to sew. Francesca was certain the storm created would blow over and her daughter would return home. Six weeks later, when her daughter moved to the city and filed for divorce, she understood the ramifications of her daughter's actions. She told Gabriella she would regret deserting her family. Later, she began hearing rumors of her daughter's wild behavior with some not so respectable elements of society. Having raised her daughter to honor the family name and her womanly responsibilities, the mother felt betrayed by the daughter. Her heart was broken and she turned her back on her only child. "You are no longer my daughter…you are nothing to me now." She said those words as she watched her daughter walk away from her, discarding her life like an unwanted wrapper.

Gabriella Gonzalez' life did not turn out as she planned; she never quite became that free spirit again. She dropped her married name after the divorce and struck out on her own. Without the financial or emotional support of her family, she soon found herself in a desperate way. Luckily, she had a college degree and was able to find work in an ad agency, in Costa Rica. She had traveled around a bit and ended up at the doorsteps of distant relatives, ones who weren't aware of the 'scandalous' actions of their second cousin once removed. In the beginning, she led the blithe, unchained life she so desperately wanted, and thought she could not live without. But even free from familial obligations, she wasn't satisfied with the merely unrestrained single life. The underbelly of society eventually cried to her. Little by little, she lost grasp of the free spirit woman she was and started to slide into the cesspool of the illicit. She began to party and drink heavily. Soon the drugs started again. She found comfort in a series of men's arms. These were not seedy or violent affairs but ones of mutual use, by adults who were getting what each needed out of the liaisons, even if that was a lie of devotion. It wasn't too long before Gabriella thought herself worthless and lived her life as such, letting herself fall even deeper into the dark.

She hit bottom eight years after leaving her family. By that time she was in Mexico City, Mexico and was living with a man named Ricardo. Through the years, she never found another that loved her like her Jackson, but then again, she soon decided after her departure she didn't want nor deserved that kind of love again. Ricardo was a hard man, but he didn't beat her and he kept her in some semblance of a decent life. His only real problem was that he was a thief; it's what he did for a living. His propensity for things not his own caused them to move a lot, to keep one step ahead of the law. They would slither into a town and within a few weeks Ricardo would make the necessary connections to line up a few jobs. Gabriella had to admit, he was good as far as thieves went; he picked his targets well and did all the research and casing to assure success. Ricardo liked to tell his lover that his ability to stay clear of the police was because he was smart and lucky. His luck ran out two weeks after he hit a jewelry store during their stay in Mexico City.

The thief had received information about a private collection of precious stones and jewelry owned by a successful diamond broker in the city. Through the right channels, Ricardo got the lowdown on the other individuals interested in the job and talked his way into partnering with them. There were four altogether for the hit and they planned it out for weeks. The actual robbery went quite easily; it was the aftermath that caused his demise. Unbeknownst to the robbers, the jewelry owner had connections to the Russian mob who didn't take kindly to their property being taken so rudely from them. The mobsters had snitches throughout the city and within twelve hours knew the names and locations of the four thieves. Retribution came thundering down. By twenty-four hours after the theft, none but Ricardo remained; his three comrades having met the reaper in the form of a single bullet – point blank, right between the eyes. Ricardo only escaped initial capture because of Gabriella. He had made her stay away from his preparations those several weeks beforehand, and her existence was unknown to the hunters. Ricardo managed to get to her at their designated secret location, an Ibis hotel on the edge of the theater district, and they raced to Costa Rica. They never made it together.

Ricardo knew why he was being stalked so ferociously. He was the one to steal the ring, the gem of the owner's collection; a ring so beautiful and rare that its existence was known but to a small handful of people. It was a ring so valuable that its whereabouts had stayed a mystery for generations, holders of the ring too mistrustful to let their ownership be known to the world. There was something about the ring, its indescribable stone, that captured every owner; they couldn't let it go but knew there was danger in its possession. It was as if the ring cast a spell over the poor soul who was lucky enough, or unlucky depending on the point of view, to gaze upon its beauty and grasp its magnificence. Ricardo had originally planned to sell the ring, to an absurdly rich and arrogant Argentinean who gave little mind to 'silly fairy tales.' Once he had the ring, though, the thief felt its command and decided it would be sinful to leave such splendor in the hands of such vulgarity.

Ricardo's plan was to steal away with Gabriella, scamming both the jeweler and Argentinean. Fate had other plans. Gabriella actually got to Niaguo, Costa Rica ahead of her lover and found an apartment for them. Ricardo was to meet her two days later; he never showed. She looked for the man and eventually found him in an abandoned warehouse. Friends of friends of the man had told her where he was. When she went to the rat infested room where he was, Gabriella found him dying, a gunshot wound to the back. The hitmen sent to find him had done their job, almost. He managed to kill both, but not before being mortally wounded. He still had the ring. During his time in the warehouse, as death made its slow walk to his side, the ring spoke to him. At least that's what his mind was telling him; he could feel the ring seeking life somehow. It wanted to be out in the world, not locked up in a steel box guarded by twelve inch titanium reinforced doors. Ricardo knew the ring had to live and not kept hidden from the world. With his dying breath, he told Gabriella to take the ring. She had the thirst for life that would keep the ring in the sunshine, only she had the same craving for freedom as the ring. "T-take the r-r-ring, Gab…don't ever take it off." He died before she placed it on her finger.

That moment was her hell. She had traversed to the bottom of misery and was trapped. The woman eventually let go of her lover and stared at the blood around her, on her clothes, her hands. She didn't know how her life had twisted so out of control. It had to stop, she knew. "It stops here," she commanded to herself. She left that room, ring on finger, and never looked back. Gabriella took what little she owned in the world and started over. The first few years were a terrible struggle; so often, she wanted to give up and slide back to into despair and the dark. But she didn't. There was still some miniscule speck of the adventurous, free spirited decent girl that seemed dead all those years before. She knew she had some worth, even if she had to go through layers of nothingness to get there.

Four years after her fall into the abyss, Gabriella had returned to sun. She was gainfully employed at a good job. She had left her wild, illicit existence for dead. To anyone not knowing her tragic past, they'd have thought her a well rounded forty-two year old woman. But Gabriella still had demons that haunted her daily. The closer to respectability she got, the more mature she became, the harder it was for her to forgive herself for deserting her daughter and mother. There was a period of time when she had nightmares every night about abandoning her family. She had often thought about reaching out to her daughter, but every time she did, she would remember the fiasco that occurred when Kennedy was ten and she had tried to say 'hello.'

Gabriella was on a trip with one of her rich amours, still engrossed in her bohemian lifestyle and decided to see her daughter. The decision was made in the fog of a two day binder. She knew enough to act appropriately when talking to her ex-husband who, she could tell, still harbored great animosity towards her. "This isn't about you and me, Jackson…I just want to see Kennedy…explain to her…" She could have been an actress with her performance. Kennedy's father agreed and told his ex that she could see Kennedy at Sinclair's. He never told the woman who Sinclair was.

By the time for the appointed meeting, Gabriella had sobered and was aware of the monumental mistake she had made. She could not explain anything to her ten year old daughter; her life didn't make sense to her. She had no excuse for leaving, only that she had no choice at the time. The woman thought of not showing at all, but there was an unexpected need for her to see Kennedy. So she went and saw a beautiful young version of herself looking at her with eyes that had a world of hurt and pain in them. That's when Gabriella realized Kennedy was better off without her, better not knowing the disappointing past of her mother. The only words she could give her daughter were, "You're better off with your father." She left because staying would have made her have to face her biggest failure. She never tried to see Kennedy again.

Gabriella's regrets were also directed to her mother. She felt ashamed for the dishonor she caused the woman and her family. She finally got the courage and self esteem to try to reunite with her family. She didn't call or write; she merely showed up one spring day at her mother's front step. She had never been so nervous as when she rang the doorbell. When the door opened, Gabriella saw the loving eyes of her mother, who now looked older than her years.

"Mama, I've come home…if you'll have me…" The words cracked from her voice as she pleaded for forgiveness with her eyes. Her mother stared for a moment, then put out her arms and took her daughter in a loving embrace.

Francesca Gonzalez took her daughter back and never talked of the past. Over the next four years, they were as close as any two could be. Gabriella stayed on the path of the clean life and gained some small piece of happiness in a small house in Bruna Juanto, Sao Paulo. But she was never able to discard her shame for the desertion of her daughter.

"Go see her, Gabriella…she'll forgive you," her mother would tell her over and over.

"I can't..she hates me…I saw it in her eyes…" Gabriella didn't believe she had the right to enter Kennedy's life again; she truly thought she didn't deserve another chance. Francesca Gonzalez tried one more time with her daughter, this time while she lay in a hospital bed dying from ovarian cancer. Through strained breathe, "Promise me…you'll try…I know she'll forgive you…she loves you…as I always did…." Those were her mother's last words.

After her mother's funeral, when she was sorting through her things, Gabriella found her mother's ruby necklace. She remembered how Kennedy used to play dress up with it during those precious visits so long ago. The words of her mother came back to her and she knew she had to keep her promise to the dead woman. She had heard nothing of her daughter or of her father since that one fateful day. She assumed they still lived in the same mansion and, after a few more bouts of uncertainty, decided to send the necklace to her daughter. It took two days to write the note. She had initially tried to pen an explanation and apology to Kennedy but got stuck on how to put into words the disaster she had made of her life. Then she tried to explain that she did love her daughter and had thought of her often; that sheet was also sent to the trash. 'How can I write I love her…what kind of love was that…' she chastised herself. She eventually ended up just asking for forgiveness, knowing that, if it didn't come, it was of her own doing. She wrapped the article and placed her address on the outside. "It's up to you, now," she said as she traced her fingers over Kennedy's name.

It was the longest ride of her life. Kennedy was so nervous that she agreed to let Willow drive the four hour trip to Bruna Juanto, where the brunette expected to face her tragic past. She refused to call beforehand; she didn't want to 'break the ice' with a telephone conversation with the woman that fifteen years before had abandoned her. This was no reality tv episode with the forgone conclusion of a happy reunion. Kennedy really didn't know how she would react once she actually saw her mother. The fact that their trip would be for nothing if the woman wasn't at home didn't cause any concern. In fact, it brought calm to the brunette and occasionally, during that four hour ride, she secretly hoped that the house would be empty.

The decision of when and how to meet Kennedy's mother was a calculated matter for the slayer. The brunette didn't want this cloud over her head, so she decided the meeting would be on the upcoming Saturday morning when there was the best chance her mother would be at home. No warning ahead of time. She would show up the way her mother had left, out of the blue. The brunette had a speech all planned, so long as her nerves didn't fail her. There was a list of questions memorized in Kennedy's mind, things that she was ready to drill her on, queries the ten year old Kennedy never knew to ask.

"If you want me there, I'll go." Willow would stand by her girl through anything.

"I do." For the first time, Kennedy didn't want to face a challenge alone; she needed the redhead's support and calming affect in the event her temperament got the best of her.

Saturday came and the women left at 5am. Kennedy didn't speak for a long time. She sat there with the blue box on her lap, all items left behind by her mother stored inside along with the newest addition, her grandmother's ruby necklace. Willow wasn't sure if her girl's silence was due to the hour of the day, Kennedy wasn't exactly a morning person, or if she was engrossed in the upcoming events. She surmised it was the latter. Every once in a while, the witch would divert her attention from her driving to glance at her slayer. Kennedy kept a constant vigil on the scene passing by her window; brown eyes locked on an image that Willow couldn't see, one that was in the brunette's mind and not outside the vehicle. About half way through their voyage, the redhead noticed that Kennedy had started to tap her fingers on the edge of her seat; the girl was extremely nervous. Willow placed her right hand over those anxious fingers and gave a slight squeeze, to help calm her slayer and let her know everything was going to be fine, regardless of the outcome of their trip. Kennedy looked briefly at her girl and a strained smile crossed her face.

Willow had never seen Kennedy so obviously tense. During all the time she had been patrolling in Sao Paulo, Kennedy never left from or returned to their apartment with the look or action of a person who was worried or nervous, even though she faced real threats every time. When she was a potential, the brunette went into battles with the surety of a tested soldier. Even the First Evil didn't get her scared. She marched into war, confidence on her face and in her stride. The greatest evil that ever existed didn't make her tremble, but a long gone mother did. A mere mortal, the woman that had brought Kennedy into the world and then abandoned her, made her slayer fidget with doubt. Such was the power of blood.

The women continued their silent journey, Kennedy concentrating on what her meeting might be like and Willow on keeping her girl from being too on edge. Had this been any other drive, the two would have noticed the beautiful countryside, the flowing, winding roads through hills and valleys that meandered them into and out of a dense forest. Had this been a pleasure trip, the sight of the magnificent trees surrounding them, with the early sun's light shattering rays off their trunks and branches would have made them hold their breath in awe. Instead of the inspiration of mother nature, they saw only a road lined with brown trees; instead of the beauty from the dawn's light, they merely took it as the reason to turn off the car's headlights. Such was the pull of their destination.

Bruna Juanto was not a small, sleepy town often characterized as a typical 'South American' homestead. It was a decent sized city that was mostly upper class in its residency. When Gabriella returned to the family flock, she was instantly also returned to the financial assistance she had known before her departure so many years before. She wasn't spoiled and pampered as before; she would not have allowed that even if offered. Mother though did insist on helping her purchase a nice quaint house in a favorable section of the city and she was given a small monthly sum to help with her recapitulation into respectable society. Gabriella made herself a home in that house and, after her mother died, stayed mostly within its confines, except for work and community obligations. She had had two life's worth of the nomadic existence. She treasured the day time hours. Rocking on her front porch swing or tending to her garden fit her disposition at that time in her life; she wanted nothing more than the excitement of watching her tomatoes ripen and her beans mature. On weekends, she preferred not to sleep in, waking at her usual 6am time. She'd make coffee and have pressed buttered bread and fruit for breakfast. Then, if the weather permitted, which was most times, she'd sit outside on her swing and watch the city pass by, saying "Bom Dia" – good morning, to anyone who would listen. By mid morning, she'd have enough fresh air and would go inside to begin her weekend chores of cleaning and washing. It was an otherwise boring routine she gladly accepted.

Gabriella's sedate life, though, had been undergoing some perplexing changes in recent months. After the death of her mother, she began to experience what she at first thought were panic attacks. They happened always at night and always when she was alone. She would have the brief feeling she was being watched or followed. Sometimes, she could have sworn she saw someone in the house, in the dark corner of a deserted room. Her heart would begin to race and she'd break out in a cold sweat. There was always a feeling of lingering fear which would leave shortly thereafter. When the events started to increase in frequency and intensity, she decided they were the symptoms of her guilt ridden conscious, her mind's way of doing penance for all the heartache she caused her dear mother and harm she had done to her daughter. The episodes continued to grow in number and force to the degree that she thought she had an actual physical ailment, a brain tumor perhaps causing the psychotic outspringings. She became so worried that she went to a specialist in Sao Paulo to confirm or deny that theory. The doctor found nothing physically wrong with the woman and suggested counseling. That's when Gabriella knew her problem went deeper than the flesh.

Along with the general feelings of unease she experienced, the woman also had flashes of the dire events in her life. It wasn't long before the scenes focused on were those of Ricardo dying in her arms…and the ring. Her mind kept coming back to the ring. Every eerie episode she underwent was laced with an almost tangible feeling from the ring. Her exquisite ring, the thing worn to remind her how close she came to ruination, had become the symbol of her miserable past, the pain caused and the wasted love. She never took off the ring because she also felt she deserved the horror that awaited her almost everyday. Despite her attempts to be a happy person by day, she was slowly becoming a tormented soul by night. She remembered contemplating her self-made imprisonment while sitting at a restaurant the day she went to Sao Paulo. Though she wanted to be happy, forgiven for her indiscretions and selfish ways, she decided she was caught in a never ending cycle of punishment. That was also part of the reason for her package to Kennedy; she forced hope that the black karma engulfing her might recede if she could make amends to her daughter, the one most damaged by her actions. Her simulated anticipation was tainted by the terror that filled her nights.

Willow reached the address just after nine thirty. She parked the car in the driveway and shut off the engine. She sat there, waiting for some motion or word from Kennedy. The brunette stared at the house for several minutes, for Kennedy it seemed like hours. Her legs wouldn't move and her mind was racing; every possible scenario was speeding through her head. It went into overload and the slayer placed the blue box on the console, put her hands over her face and leaned forward until her the back of her hands rested on her thighs.

"I don't think I can do this-" the words barely audible. Willow leaned in and put her hands gently on her lover's shoulders.

"You can, baby…you can do this." She waited for her brunette to realize the strength in her spirit.

After a few moments, Kennedy sat up, looked at the house once again and opened the car door. She stood up and Willow got out also. She waited until Kennedy looked at her. "Will…can you wait here…I think I need to do this part by myself." Kennedy realized that the first moment of contact with her mother had to be made by her alone. She had to stand before the woman one on one, on her own two feet, showing her in that split second that she hadn't been defeated by the woman's actions. She wanted to look in her eyes to see what was there when her mother realized who she was. Kennedy told herself at that instant, she wouldn't be the one to flinch.

As Kennedy looked at Willow for understanding, the redhead nodded her head knowing Kennedy needed to face her mother alone. She watched as the slayer walked up the pathway, then up the porch steps to the wooden front door. The brunette could feel her heart beat faster. Kennedy hesitated and then lifted her arm and knocked. She waited. After a few moments with no response, the brunette raised her hand again and just before she could knock, she heard a voice inside. Then she heard footsteps growing louder. Her heart started to pound and her mouth became dry. She saw the doorknob begin to turn. Her heart was racing.

The door finally opened and standing just inside, Kennedy saw her mother. She recognized the woman instantly. 'She looks the same-' was Kennedy's first thought. The daughter didn't move or speak; she just stared at her mother. She didn't even blink. Gabriella looked at the young woman at her door and after a few moments her eyes squinted slightly, like she was concentrating intently, then her face took on an expression of disbelief. She tilted her head slightly to one side and looked at the girl some more. That's when she knew.

Everything Kennedy had planned for that split second upon the door opening vanished from her mind. The only truth she knew was that her mother was standing in front of her. All those childhood prayers for her mother's return flooded back. For that instant, she was that little girl again and her mother had returned. She softly said the only word that came to her.

"Mom." Though she hadn't uttered that name since the dreaded visit ten years before, it flowed off her tongue so naturally.

Gabriella was shocked to see her daughter before her. The young woman had those same beautiful brown eyes that the mother remembered from so long ago. But she was no longer a little girl. If she had seen her on the street by accident, Gabriella still would have known it was her daughter. "Kennedy…it's really you…" She didn't know where else to start.

The moment of fantasy was gone for the brunette and she regained her control. "Yeah…it's me." Her tone had lost that young girl innocence.

Gabriella stood in the doorway awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. A sudden urge came over her and she took a step forward and raised her arms as if to embrace her daughter. Instantly, Kennedy took a half step back. Her mother froze then stepped back into the house and rested her arms by her side. She chastised herself for making such a foolish advance on the girl who, in reality, couldn't have thought of her as family. The woman then darted her eyes around and finally spoke in fractured sentence, "Uh…um…would you…like to come…inside?" She needed some evidence on her daughter's part to show there was a reason for her visit other than just to get a look at the deserter.

Kennedy squinted her eyes in deliberation, 'this is it…it starts now,' she thought to herself. Inside that house were hopefully answers to many of her most intimate questions. She turned her head and looked at Willow in the driveway still standing by the car. Gabriella glanced past her daughter and seeing the other woman, "Please, your friend can come in, too." Kennedy turned back to her mother for an instant and then back to Willow, waving her hand slightly, just enough to let the redhead know she was being requested to join her slayer. Willow immediately walked over next to her girlfriend and also stood before her mother.

"Hello, I'm Gabriella Gonzalez. I'm Kennedy's…mother." The woman said the word knowing it was true but feeling she had no right to utter it. She thought gesturing for a handshake would also be awkward in this situation.

"This is Willow Rosenberg," Kennedy said and then took Willow's hand in her own. "She's my girlfriend." Kennedy wasn't holding back; she decided her mother didn't deserve any subtleties on her part.

Gabriella glanced down and saw her daughter squeeze the slender woman's hand; she knew just by that gesture they were lovers. She looked back up at both and a small accepting smile came to her face. "It's nice to meet you, Willow…please won't you both come in."

For Kennedy the scene was dreamlike. She and Willow sat with her mother at the woman's kitchen table. There was awkward silence at first, no one talking, no one knowing the proper protocol – if there was one. Then there was a suggestion of coffee. That at least caused movement. Finally, the discussion snailed its way into existence. The conversation was polite like strangers meeting for the first time. But there was a dark history looming in the air that no one acknowledged. The talk began about the couple's reason for being in Brazil. Kennedy lied and said they were there on a college foreign study program. When asked, the brunette told her mother that her father had sent her the necklace package. With the mention of her ex-husband, Gabriella stiffened slightly, knowing that he too had been a victim to her desertion. She then started to ask her daughter about her life in Brazil and about her and Willow. Homosexuality didn't bother Gabriella. She had learned from her hard life that mutual respect and love were the only things that mattered; what form they took was irrelevant. As much as the woman wanted to know, Gabriella was terrified to probe any where near the areas she knew would cause tension for her guests. Kennedy's past and her feelings about the actions of her mother would have to come from her daughter, when she was ready.

It was when her mother started talking about Brazil and the wonders of the country that Kennedy started to feel the anger inside. Here she was, the daughter she hadn't seen in ten years, and all her mother could ask about was the present. Kennedy wondered if the woman was even interested in what she went through without her. The thoughts raced through her head as she tangentially heard her mother and Willow in light chit chat. Then her mother was speaking again, asking her daughter a question, one that Kennedy didn't hear or care about. Mid way during her mother's sentence, Kennedy stared at her and coldly said, "Why'd you leave?"

Silence cut through the room. Gabriella was stunned by the timing of the question but not by its utterance; she knew it would be thrown at her eventually. Her problem was she didn't know the words to answer that would make her daughter realize the complexity of the situation at the time. A small voice whispering in the back of her mind told her she didn't deserve to have her daughter understand, that she shouldn't try. Gabriella searched for the words, unconsciously fidgeting her fingers on the gold ring on her index finger. "Kennedy…I was young…a-and…I…I didn't know…I felt…like I was…suffocating. I know it's not enough for you…but at the time…I felt I had no choice." Gabriella knew she couldn't expect her daughter to accept such an ambiguous answer to such a monumental question. She was right.

"What you mean you were suffocating?...you lived in a mansion…" Kennedy's infant anger started to build with her mother's answer. "You just left me." Kennedy sat rigid in the chair. The changing demeanor of her girlfriend was seen by Willow. She remained quiet, sensing the brunette's shifting emotion and hoping for restraint. The redhead also noticed Kennedy's mother's shift in manner; the woman seemed restrained yet fearful. And she kept twitching her fingers at the ring on her hand.

"Kennedy…I can't explain it so that you'd understand…I wanted excitement…" The woman stumbled for words knowing she wouldn't find any. She stopped trying. "…I knew you'd be in good hands with your father…I just couldn't stay with him, he didn't…" Kennedy cut off the woman.

"DON'T bring Dad into this…he stayed…you're the one who took off…" Her voice got louder. As many problems as Kennedy had with her father, she would not let her mother attack him. He wasn't the deserter; he kept his responsibility to his daughter. He was her family and the brunette wasn't going to let this woman who she really didn't know say one word to his detriment.

Gabriella saw Kennedy rally around the honor of her father and knew it was not for Kennedy to know the character flaws in the man that helped lead to the woman's departure. "I'm sorry…I don't know what you want me to say.…" 'She hates you…' the voice in her head whispered.

"Do you regret leaving?" The answer to this question more than any other terrified Kennedy. Deep down, the slayer knew she could never understand how her mother could have left her. She was too close to the pain to see a reason, any reason that could soothe her disappointed heart. She didn't have the weakness in character that her mother had; her heart wasn't as selfish.

"I regret what my leaving did to you…that I caused you so much pain." Even now, Gabriella felt that she did what she had to do at the time. Age had given her the insight to know she had squandered her opportunity to have made the best from her difficult decision. She also knew she had paid and was still paying for her sins of the past. "I hope you can forgive me, Kennedy…I always loved you." Gabriella said the words, meaning them with all her heart. Through all her dark days, she never lost that spark of love for her daughter, even if she was too blind to see it. She had to say the words because she didn't know if she'd ever get the chance again.

Kennedy couldn't believe what she just heard. Her anger swelled. Willow saw her slayer clench her teeth and her jaw line become rigid. Her eyes filled with indignation. The camel's back had broken. "You love me?" She mocked in disgust. "What do you know about love?..."

Everything that had been inside Kennedy since she was five came charging its way out. Her emotions were a raging flooding river, bent on devastating everything in its path…and that was her mother. It all came spewing out.

"You don't love me…you never have…y-you're selfish and small…you didn't even have the guts to find me…you…you w-waited until Gramma died…what, are you lonely now?" Kennedy was leaning out of her chair, chiding the woman, her voice strong but not yelling. "…Is that it?...you're alone now…starting to feel guilty?" Kennedy began to see the woman for what she was – weak and small. Kennedy couldn't understand how she had ever thought so highly of her. She looked at her mother intently.

"You didn't want me before…I'm not going to be your leftovers now…" Kennedy looked at Willow and then back at her mother. "I have all the love I need…I don't want yours." With that, Kennedy got up. "Let's go Will." She didn't give her mother time to respond; she turned and started to head for the front door.

The witch had sat frozen through the entire episode. She had never seen Kennedy so upset. Even her confrontations with Buffy were child's play compared to this. A part of her was glad in a way that Kennedy finally got rid of the poison that had been trapped inside for so long. But mostly, she was sad because Kennedy once again didn't have a happy ending, one more time she was disappointed by the one's in her life that were supposed to care the most. The redhead had had such high hopes for the mother and daughter reunion. Everything in their lives was going so well, she had hoped some of that good luck would rub off on this trip. Now, all she could do was help console her brunette and reinforce to her the redhead would never let her down.

As Willow got up to follow Kennedy, Gabriella took her arm. "I know she's angry now…and I understand if she can't forgive me…but please tell her I was wrong to leave her…" Gabriella started to cry. "…I'm sorry…I'm so ashamed of what I've done to her…" The voice whispered again in her head, 'You should be ashamed, you've ruined her life…you should be punished.' Gabriella couldn't make the unseen intruder go away.

The redhead looked down at the hand on her arm. She saw skin that matched her slayer's; she saw that ring, an exquisite piece of artistry. For a moment her eyes were gelled to it, captured by some strange force pulling at her. Then Gabriella let go of Willow's arm and slumped back into the chair. The redhead watched the woman for a few moments. She was beaten and lost but still tapping at the ring with her finger. Willow would have felt sorry for the woman had she not been the reason for most of the sadness in her brunette's life. The witch shook her head then went to her slayer and followed her to the car.

Gabriella Gonzalez remained in the chair and cried for the loss again of her little girl. Though it was the daughter who walked out this time, the woman knew it was of her own doing. She had given Kennedy no choice, her daughter's actions now had been set in stone that fateful day when she was five. The woman's hope for salvation crushed; her unrealistic expectation for calmer nights gone. In her soul, she knew all along she couldn't let Kennedy forgive her. She had taken a part of her daughter's innocence the day she left. She now knew that haunting voice that tormented her nights was right and would be with her for the rest of her life.

Kennedy and Willow headed back for Sao Paulo; their return trip solemn and even quieter than their early morning drive. Attempts by Willow to calm her slayer were initially met with angry looks then apologetic smiles. "I'm sorry, Will…I can't talk about it now," was all the brunette would say. As much progress as she'd made expressing her feelings to Willow, this was one area where Kennedy still had the emotional barrier partially erected. She felt she couldn't talk to Willow about her feelings until she knew what they were. She wasn't interested in traveling down this painful road with her girl at this time.

Kennedy continued to drive, hands clutching the steering wheel, the rage still evident. The box remained on the console though Kennedy never looked at it. She had intended to question her mother about the contents, to get the true history behind the objects to replace the thousand of made up stories she carried with her. That was all gone now. She only felt anger for the woman and a desire to just leave her in the past like she had been. Kennedy's vision of a mother's return went ablaze like a match stick house set on fire. Underneath the anger, there was sadness for the chance of reconciliation that wasn't there and probably never had been.

The entire event, which lasted a few hours, didn't sit right with the witch. She knew Kennedy had every right to be angry and even unforgiving to her mother. Her brunette had finally been able to say those things to the woman that had been eating at her for years. For that she understood the confrontation had to take place. But there was something else beneath the surface, deep beneath the facade, that nagged at Willow. Kennedy's mother had wanted her daughter to make contact, of that she was certain. And yet, the redhead felt like the woman hardly tried to give Kennedy her version of the facts, tangible pieces of her life to give reason to her actions. It wasn't that Willow expected the woman to have a story that would make Kennedy instantly say, "Oh, I get it now…you were right to abandon me"; but the woman hadn't even made an effort, like she wanted the retribution, as if she had already decided Kennedy shouldn't forgive her. Willow spent the ride home thinking; her attempts to soothe or distract her slayer were fruitless. She knew Kennedy needed time to sort through her emotions, to see what was really left over when the rage subsided. Willow's thoughts kept coming back to the ring. She didn't know why it had caught her attention, but once it had she was engrossed with it for reasons unknown. It was an unforgettable piece of jewelry, but why, Willow couldn't pinpoint. And what did it have to do with the implosion of Kennedy's meeting with her mother? Something wasn't right and Willow knew in time she'd figure it out.

"She's dying…and they can't save her…" Willow said the words out loud so that she couldn't deny their truth. The redhead was standing in the middle of the surgical waiting room. She had seen the OR personnel working to keep life in her slayer. There was nothing that modern medicine could do that wasn't being done. But having projected into that operating room, and seeing the devastation done to her girlfriend's body, the witch knew that it would not be enough. If left to the devise of mortal ingenuity, Kennedy would die. Even a slayer's body had limitations; even her tough and ever confident brunette couldn't survive through everything. Willow recognized that a regular person would have been dead instantly. She was just as certain that many slayers wouldn't have been able to survive as long as Kennedy had so far. Her brunette was nothing if not strong of body and spirit; she was also stubborn; she'd hang on just to prove she could. But Willow could feel that Kennedy was slipping, her will to fight being snatched from her.

The witch understood that if her lover was to live, it would have to be with the intervention of witchcraft. Magick was Kennedy's only chance; Willow her only hope. The redhead started to mentally wade through all of the different types of spells and conjures that she knew, those from her days in Sunnydale and the ones learned from her new friends while in Brazil. One by one, she went through them, discarding those that needed extended preparation or a host of ingredients. There were spells for healing, like that she had done for Kennedy's injuries after her return from the Truxdeiro, but that needed her to be in the physical presence of Kennedy where she could touch the affected area. She had repaired flesh before, when Buffy got shot by Warren on the horrible day Tara was killed. A vengeful Willow, filled with the dark magicks, had summoned the bullet from Buffy's chest, restoring flesh and saving her life. Though Willow knew she could do the same without the forces of evil in her veins, she was still defeated because it needed her physical presence with Kennedy. She realized she couldn't just show up in the surgical room and exclaim, "You can relax now…I can save her."

Willow hunted through the wealth of knowledge in her mind, seeking out the answer that would save her lover's life. The coven women and medicine men had taught her that there was not one right way to perfect a result. Spells and potions were like poetry; there was not one perfect form or rhyme. Willow explored areas that fit into the aspects of the mission confronting her. "I need to mend flesh…" That was one part. "…It can't be done with me actually being with her…" Part two was set. "…and it has to be done immediately…" This was the toughest to overcome. "There's so little time," she reminded herself.

Willow struggled with her dilemma, knowing each passing minute meant death slithered a little closer to her slayer. She walked nervously for a few minutes then sat in a chair to the left of the doorway and at the end. The first thing she really learned to do while in Brazil was how to concentrate; the step by step procedure to turn her mind into a vast open connection to the wonders of magicks or the dimensional world. Her mind could be made into a cosmic receiving station, where she could sense the knowledge of the universe flowing through her.

Once in her 'state', Willow let the thoughts speed by, examining each one for a fit into her parameters. It was like trying to spot a down feather floating in the wind from the window of a high speed train. As the endeavor was proving to be fruitless, another notion jumped into the witch's head. Did she really have to save Kennedy? Or could she make Kennedy save herself? The witch's mind jammed on the mental brakes. Her eyes opened instantly. "That's it!" The words were soft but said with complete certainty.

Willow realized she didn't have to fix Kennedy's physical problems herself. She just needed her slayer to stay alive long enough for the surgeons to fix her. The witch needed Kennedy to keep her mental and metaphysical will and energy strong enough so that the doctors could bring her physical being to safety. Her slayer just needed to want to stay alive. She had to let Kennedy know that the slayer needed to fight, to not give into to the darkness.

It seemed so ironic to Willow that their positions had reversed. Almost one year ago, it was Kennedy who had convinced Willow not to give into death, to fight the pull for death from the Great Mystery. The redhead now had to return the act in kind. Her responsibility was to connect with Kennedy and convince her, help her to hold on to her life, their life.

Back then it was the slayer spell that caused the cosmic imbalance that almost led to Willow's demise. This time, it was Kennedy's slayer obligations and daughterly love that had led her to death's doorway. Willow knew Kennedy's dire state was the result of coming to the aid of her mother, Gabriella. It was because of that damned ring. The redhead hated the woman for an instant for ever sending Kennedy the ruby necklace that started the pursuit, for ever coming back into her daughter's life. Willow loathed herself for the role she played in bringing the two back together. The moment was then gone and the witch felt shamed because she knew, deep down, her slayer would have acted the same for any one in the same position. Kennedy was a slayer and she protected the innocent, even if that was a mother who had abandoned her. That righteous protectiveness was a quality the girl possessed even before Willow's spell; it was one of the reasons the redhead had fallen in love with her. Now it was one of the reasons driving her to try and save her brunette.

The solution to the present predicament shot at Willow, a variation on the mind meld she did on an almost comatose Buffy when Glory was after them. She knew she could do it, but not without its potential deadly consequences. However, Willow didn't care about the hazards; she wanted her lover with her; she wanted always to be with Kennedy. She would get that one way or another. "I'll never leave you, baby…I told you that…"

The initial days after the meeting with Kennedy's mother were rough for the brunette, and Willow. Kennedy's silence on the matter flowed over into her interactions with her girlfriend. The slayer was distant and quiet. Instead of the lively conversations they usually had about Willow's locating spell's, Kennedy's nightly patrols or even what to have for dinner, there was silence. When Kennedy did talk it was only to agree with whatever Willow was happening to be suggesting. The only emotion Kennedy showed was when it was time to patrol. Willow surmised the slayer was taking her anger and disappointment out on some very unsuspecting, yet deserving, vampires. Within time, though, Kennedy's mood had lifted and she was almost back to the same confident, brunette Willow loved. The redhead could tell her slayer was still bothered by the event, but at least she was to the point where she could talk about it.

"I don't wanna see her again, Will…she doesn't really care, and I can't keep believing she does."

"I'm not taking her side, but she did say she was wrong…she knows she shouldn't have left you."

"It's too late, Willow…I can't forget what she did." Kennedy's tone was filled with hurt.

"I'm not doing anything…I tried, Will. I really did." There was resigned disappointment in her voice. Willow gave a small supportive smile. She knew her slayer was hurting; she wouldn't push.

"Besides, I've got other things to concentrate on for the moment." Kennedy's disposition and tone improved dramatically. "You have a birthday coming up and there are celebration plans to consider." Kennedy went to her witch and hugged her. "Twenty-three…big number…getting old…we'll have to take that into account," the brunette mocked.

"Oh, you think I'm getting old, do you?" Willow spun Kennedy around and they landed on the couch, Kennedy pinned beneath her witch. "I can still keep up with you." The devilish smile worked its lips to the brunette's chin and planted soft kisses while an alabaster hand found its way underneath Kennedy's shirt and to the lace bra covering her breast, caressing upon its arrival.

Kennedy smiled back, raising her eyebrows. "Oh, yeah?...prove it." The redhead promptly did.

Willow's birthday was on a typical hot, balmy January day in Sao Paulo. It hadn't taken the women long to get used to the reversal of seasons; hot, humid weather just meant more sun 'n fun, when they weren't working. The redhead's birthday started by being woken up from a sound sleep with the smell of pancakes, eggs and coffee. As she opened her eyes, there stood Kennedy, tray in hand, filled to the brim with the aforementioned items, along with juice and a flower in a small vase.

"I thought in honor of your birthday, we'd do a typical American breakfast." Kennedy went and placed the tray beside Willow after she sat up.

"Yeah, so if it sucks, remember…it's the thought that counts." The slayer wasn't one for cooking, of any sort. Breakfast didn't suck, in fact it was quite tasty and the redhead began to deduce that her girlfriend wasn't cooking challenged, just cooking lazy.

Willow ate her breakfast, Kennedy declining to join her, "I ate while I was making yours." Afterwards, the two hung out at their apartment; Miguel had told them a delivery was coming that day and they had to be home to sign for it. At ten thirty, a truck pulled up to the complex and the two passengers got out and opened the large rolling door at the back of the cab. Willow and Kennedy watched as the two men carried out a beautiful bookcase. They walked to the women's place and were met at the door by Willow who asked the men, in her best Portuguese, if she could help them.

"Você pode assinar aqui? When the man speaking saw the concentrated look on the witch's face he tried again. "You sign for dis?"

"Sim, sim…of course." Willow signed the sheet handed to her by the delivery man who then made several other statements which the redhead missed. She looked at Kennedy.

"Oh…" Willow looked around and then said, "We're gonna need to switch things around…let's put it next to the back French doors." After relaying the information, the two men did their duty and left, giving Willow an envelope as they did. She opened it and read the letter which was inside out loud.

Willow was astounded by the gift. The bookcase had four shelves and was hand carved on the top and bottom. The wood had deep rich grains of grays, blues and browns, almost as if looking at a tiger, in the moonlight, stripped of its color. There were sporadic smears of deep red at the crests of the swirling grain. The carvings in the piece, hand crafted at the top and base, were intricate piping designs interlaced with delicately finished winged birds. It was a work of art. Willow was giddy. She looked at Kennedy her face aglow with excitement.

"This is incredible…he shouldn't have gone to this extreme." The witch really was moved by the gift.

"He respects you, Will…and he knows you'd appreciate it." Kennedy had not known the specifics of the gift only that Miguel had told her he was sending something to her girlfriend. Kennedy had to admit, the man had great taste.

Willow got her wish and she was able to thank her Brazilian friend in person. Though Kennedy had particular events planned, she didn't tell her redhead, instead letting Willow think the day was hers for the making. She finagled an unknowing Willow into having lunch at a quaint café in one of their favorite neighborhoods. Kennedy had an ulterior motive for that particular establishment.

"Will…do you mind going to the post office next door, there's a package waiting for you…some mail guy called me yesterday and told me." She hoped her ruse would work.

"Who sent me a package?" questioned the redhead. She had already received gifts from her parents and her Scooby friends around the world.

"Beats me…I'm just telling you what the guy told me…I'll meet 'cha at the restaurant…I've gotta stop at the photo store." This was a lie; Kennedy needed Willow out of her sight so she could get a present out of the car trunk. Besides, she wanted to secretly watch when her redhead opened her package. Willow acquiesced. "Ok, I'll get us a table." And off the two went.

At the post office, Willow was given a package addressed to her with a return address of Primix Publishing in Los Angeles, California. She then went to the café, got a table and waited for Kennedy. After about ten minutes, the redhead couldn't control her curiosity and opened the package. Unbeknownst to her, Kennedy had stealthily situated herself behind a palm tree so that she could take in Willow's actions. Kennedy smiled with satisfaction upon seeing her girl's reaction. When Willow unwrapped the delivery, she viewed, much to her amazement, her Sunnydale High School yearbook. She couldn't make sense of it. Her yearbook had gone the way of all her other personal articles; they lay in ashes at the bottom of a chasm. The article she held in her hands had been lost for good, or so she thought. With a perplexed look on her face, she searched for Kennedy and then started to leaf through the book. There were memories of her past she'd thought were gone forever. She flipped back to the first page and noticed writing on the inside cover.

Willow placed her fingers over the sentiment and smiled warmly. That's when Kennedy walked out from behind her blind and over to her redhead. Willow looked up and took the slayer's hand in hers. "This is wonderful, Kenne…how did you do this?" The brunette then explained that yearbooks all over the U.S. were put together by three main publishers. She called each one to find out which did Sunnydale High's and placed an order. "I also got ones for Buffy and Xander…I thought they might like one too." Willow loved the generosity that flowed through her slayer. It could be so touching. "They'll love it…just like I do."

Kennedy sat down and got more serious. "I hate that you lost everything you had. You should have more than just what's in your head…so, I hope this helps a little; happy birthday, Willow." Kennedy gave Willow a gift bag, nicely decorated. The witch stared at her brunette unsure as she placed her hand inside the bag; her brows crinkled a bit as she took the contents out. In her hand was a stack, tied together with satin trim, of photographs, pictures of her and the Scoobies before the battle with the First. Willow still wasn't sure what she was looking at as she untied the bow and began to inspect the photos. There were pictures of her when she was young, of her and Xander in fifth grade. These were pictures she knew had to have come from her parents. But there were others; ones with Buffy and Xander before the arrival of the potentials, before Kennedy. A few had Dawn and Giles. She stared at several in particular; they were of Tara. Willow was completely dumbfounded. Green eyes stared at Kennedy.

"I got some from your mom…the others, you actually have you to thank. When I was at Buffy's I noticed you used an online service to develop your pictures…" Willow remembered she had a digital camera and had started downloading her pictures for development. Kennedy continued. "…I wasn't spying, I just noticed it when I sent and got emails from Emma." Kennedy didn't want Willow to think her initial attraction to her had gone so far as stalking. The brunette then told Willow that she had been told by her father that some internet companies keep a back up of picture files sent to them for developing, in case something goes wrong in the shipment of the actual hard copy photos.

"It took me a while to remember the name of the one you used, but when I did, I contacted them and lucked out…they had one of your orders still on file…and here it is." Kennedy had actually started the process for this particular present not long after returning from their visit to New York. She'd had the pictures for some time. Kennedy waited for Willow to speak.

"I-I don't know what to say…this is simply amazing…I thought these were gone forever…" Willow recalled taking the pictures, of others taking pictures with her camera. She had gone so long without downloading them. And then Tara died and she couldn't deal with them then, knowing her image would be there. Eventually, she overcame the grief that held her back and finally sent them to her favorite internet developing company. They had been in the top drawer of her dresser the day Sunnydale was lost forever. She thought they had met the same fate. Kennedy brought them back.

With watered eyes, Willow embraced her brunette. "I can't believe you did this…that you figured out a way…." The witch then said softly in her lover's ear, "I love you, Kennedy…more than you know." Kennedy buried her face in her witch's neck and smiled; she had made her Willow happy.

Kennedy's birthday surprises didn't end with the pictures. After a delightful lunch with a very joyous Willow, the two made their way to an older section of the city, a part known for its bookstores, antiquity shops and stores for the unusual. They parked next to an old building.

"I found a great bookstore…I know how much you love them, so I thought what better way to spend part of your birthday than going book shopping." Willow lightly kissed her brunette.

Like a starving man at an all you can eat buffet – that's the excitement Willow had canvassing the rows upon rows of books at 'Finders' bookstore. It specialized in hard to find titles, of all genres – including the mystical. Kennedy had discovered the place through, of all things, ebay. She went to the store during one of Willow's trips to the coven and bartered a deal of which her witch was about to reap the reward. As Willow browsed through the magicks section, she carefully scanned each title; she was always on the lookout for a book or manuscript that would assist her in gaining further insight to her craft. Half way down her third isle, she stopped. She reread the title of the hardback caught in her sight. 'It can't be,' she said to herself. Willow was looking at the 'Chronicles of the Han Nurrabi.' The tome was a history from the original mystical witches, before modern time, before Stonehenge even. Legend had it that these were the witches that had first walked upon the earth after man had slithered out of the primordial ooze. The witch had been searching for that book for as long as she'd known about it – for years. She had even told Kennedy about it during one of their book sorting nights not long after their arrival in Brazil. And there it now was, within her hand's grasp. She called for Kennedy.

"Kenne…" she said with excitement, "…come here. You gotta see what I found." Kennedy already knew and tried to restrain her smile.

Willow felt like she had just found a buried treasure. She quietly, but quickly, took the book off the shelf. "We need to find out what they want for it. It'll be a fortune I bet…but this is something I'm sure Giles will gladly spend Council money on." Kennedy laughed to herself that her witch didn't have a clue. They went to the woman at the front desk and Willow placed the book on the counter. Slowly, to get the words right, she asked how much the book was in Portuguese. The woman glanced at the book then Kennedy. Her attention went back to Willow.

"We got special rate for witches." Willow looked at Kennedy who shrugged her shoulders as if to say 'what could it hurt?'

"How did you…" The light bulb went on in Willow's head and she turned to Kennedy. "You found this book, didn't you?" She was once again amazed with the ingenuity of her girlfriend.

Willow graciously took the book and the two went back to their car. Once inside, Willow hugged her slayer. "Kenne, you didn't need to do all this. The yearbook and photos were plenty." Willow was overwhelmed by Kennedy's generosity.

"The other presents were for your past…this is your present…your magick. You're an incredible witch. I knew that right from the start…Whatever I can do to make you better and stronger, I will…gladly." Kennedy meant every word, her initial skepticism in magick had long given way to true belief.

"Kenne, you're too much…what did I do to deserve you?" There were times when Willow felt like she didn't deserve to be so happy again, to have someone who loved her as much as Kennedy. This was one of those times. The brunette shook her head. "You've got it all wrong…I don't deserve you." The lover's settled the dilemma with a slow, sweet kiss. Then Kennedy pulled back and said mischievously, "I think it's time to go back home."

Willow's birthday celebration continued in a more intimate fashion once they arrived back at their apartment. Kennedy whisked the redhead off her feet as soon as they stepped inside and took her to the bedroom. Willow had to practically toss her presents on the kitchen table to keep them from making the short trip with her. The brunette didn't release her girl until she had her resting in the middle of their bed with Kennedy above her, weight on her hands and knees.

"Love it," the witch said as she brushed a stray raven lock behind her lover's ear.

"Well…let's see if we can kick it up a notch." The tone was sultry. Kennedy then leaned in and started grazing her lips over the cloth covering Willow's breasts. She instantly felt Willow react to the touch, her breathing becoming slightly thicker and her nipples hard. Kennedy loved how easily her witch's body reacted to her touches, like she was in constant expectation. That minor change was all it took for Kennedy to feel a sensation deep inside. The brunette repositioned herself so she was straddling Willow, pulling the witch up into an embrace. Kennedy kissed and lightly licked under Willow's chin and up to her mouth. Hands webbed through shimmering crimson hair, pulling inviting lips closer. Mouths opened and the lover's engaged in a familiar intimate connection, the rhythm of movement known only to them. Their breathing quickly turned labored, their chests heaving with each new wave of pleasure washing over them. Hands started to caress, then urgently pulled at shirt hems and buttons. Then the phone rang.

After a momentary cessation of movement, the lover's continued their barrage on each other. The phone rang again. Through frayed breath, "Fuck it…it's probably a wrong number." Kennedy's desire was a runaway locomotive and there was no putting on the brakes. She attacked Willow's mouth again. After two more rings, the answering machine picked up.

"Happy birthday to you…happy birthday to you…" There was a chorus of voices singing on the other end. After the song was done, "…Hey Will, you guys there?...We all want to wish you happy birthday." It was Buffy. In the background, "If you're there, stop the tonsil hockey and pick up the phone." Leave it to Faith to hit the mark. Kennedy and Willow ceased their lustful actions, touching foreheads while their breathing steadied. Willow then leaned over and picked up the receiver.

"Hey everyone…we're here…we're here." Kennedy raked her fingers through her hair and then moved beside Willow, sitting up at the head of the bed. She watched as her redhead's face lit up with elation from the birthday conference call. Everyone was in on the call and they all took turns wishing the witch well and being thanked for the wonderful presents received. Kennedy could see how much the call, in fact all the calls they got, meant to her redhead. She knew Willow missed her friends tremendously.

The gang once again caught up on life in general and slayer happenings in particular. They found out that Buffy had a beau, of the not merely human kind- as usual, and Xander had, as suspected, taken an interest in a Moroccan slayer, named Rhianni. Xander's only comment was "At least she's not a demon." He promised to send more details and a picture in his next email. Faith was as closed lipped as ever and Kennedy and Willow were positive something was up between her and Robin. As for the couple, when asked, they stated that events were going well and they were happy. They didn't mention the episode with Kennedy's mother. No one knew about that; Kennedy had asked Willow to keep it between themselves for the time being. They also noted that Miguel was handling the South American branch of the Watcher's Council quite efficiently and competently. Everyone agreed that the slayers that had been found, and that had decided to accept the slayer obligations, were worthy candidates. The whole gang, and Giles in particular, had high hopes for the future.

After all was said, and another round of Happy Birthday sung, the friends said good-bye. "You can go back now to whatever it was I'm sure we so rudely interrupted." Faith always knew how to end a phone call. The call over, Kennedy noticed a slight melancholy to her redhead.

"I do…but I wouldn't change anything right now." Willow meant it; she wanted to be no other place than with her slayer.

"So…where were we before that horrible distraction…" Kennedy put her arms around her witch's waist from behind and began to nuzzle against the side of her neck. Willow twisted around quickly and had Kennedy beneath her.

After the couple finished their afternoon triste, Kennedy told Willow to get ready for her birthday dinner. They took turns taking a shower, knowing that if they took one together they'd never make their reservation. While Kennedy was occupying the bathroom, Willow looked through her yearbook and photos again, happy and sad memories flooding back. The persistence and insight of her slayer astonished Willow. How Kennedy's mind worked in such a way as to discover the right gift or thought at precisely the right time was a mystery to the redhead. She was only glad she was witness to it.

Willow then browsed through the Chronicles. 'This had to cost a fortune," she told herself. It was still difficult at times to accept the nonchalant ways of her brunette when it came to money. She resisted Kennedy's impulses to buy her jewelry or clothes or the dozens of other things she'd see Willow look at or comment on. She had to admit, though, Kennedy's financial status came in handy when they had to make trips for whatever reason. Connecting with new slayers or checking out other slayer leads was exhausting. She enjoyed being able to have nice accommodations.

As she flipped through the ancient book's pages, Willow got a sense of the magnitude of witchcraft. The book she held kept the history of the craft and its followers through the ages. It was a roadmap to the toils and tribulations of those before her. She had read that the book revealed its secrets to only the truly worthy, those able to accept the responsibility. Willow felt the cover, its old weathered leather cool to her touch, the pages made by a process abandoned centuries ago. The etched lettering was worn in places but still carried an aura of mystery and authority. When Willow heard Kennedy come out of the bathroom, she nimbly flipped through the rest of the pages and closed the book. She didn't notice the page that had a picture of the ring worn by Kennedy's mother.

Dinner was at a secluded outdoor bistro overlooking the beach's edge. It was a traditional Brazilian affair, with local exotic fruits and spices to add to the special nature of the evening. They listened to the music being played by a trio of guitar players. They drank the national drink, caipirinha, enough to make them slightly tipsy as they headed for a walk along the sand. The glow from the sun spread out over the horizon. The lover's could hear the enchanting music flowing from the restaurants and clubs they passed on their slow and lazy journey. Willow heard the repeating rolling beat of the percussion and got caught up in the sensuous rhythms of the music. She couldn't hold herself back; she closed her eyes, tilted back her head and started to slowly dance to the music, swaying her body and arms to the inviting beat.

Willow became a part of her surroundings; she wasn't in the experience, she was the experience. Everything she had learned from her sister witches over the past months exploded before her eyes. Her life had been a raft ride down a raging river; she had almost drowned in the swirling whitewater of grief over Tara's death. Even in times of past happiness, there was still a part of her in silent dissent. Those times felt like ancient history now. As Willow got lost in the music, in the night, she came to the realization she was completely at peace with her life. Each piece of her life's little puzzle had fallen into place. She wanted no more from life, needed nothing other than what she had in her heart and soul. Dancing on the beach, being with her brunette – Willow felt a lifting of her spirit, as close to the intangible connectedness with the heavens as possible while still being a part of the physical world.

Kennedy watched in awe. The scene before her was magical. The back drop to her witch's expression of freedom was a palette of pastel reds, pinks and blues blanketing the sky. The setting day's lights, seemingly radiating out from behind wispy clouds, basted the water with a streak of red and yellow, snaking its way up to the shore and colliding off the sand. Behind Willow was an Impressionist's canvass, silhouetting the graceful, angelic figure of the witch. Willow had never looked more beautiful, in her silken clinging top and flowing sarong. If ever there was perfection on earth, Kennedy knew she was gazing at it that very moment.

"I'm gonna spend the rest of my life with that woman." The brunette spoke the words softly but with surety to let the heavens know the force of their truth. Kennedy had often thought of Willow as her everything, as being 'the' person for her. This was the first time, however, that the girl actually thought of the two of them together in the future. She saw a picture in her mind of her and Willow years from now, still deeply in love, still by each other's side. Their commitment to each other wasn't a feeling any longer; it was fact. She would be with Willow until death. She was filled with a sense of safety and happiness she had never known. This fleeting moment was one Kennedy would remember forever. Looking at her lover, the brunette sensed Willow was unlike every other person she had loved in her life; Willow wouldn't leave. A feeling of inspiration came over her. 'I love you…and I will…til the day I die.…' The thought filled her mind.

[I love you too, baby]. Kennedy went to respond and realized the voice she just heard was in her head; it was Willow speaking to her but not talking to her. She quickly sought out her witch who was well out of hearing range. Bewildered, she thought her slayer hearing must have kicked into overdrive from her emotional state.

[Do you hear me, Kenne?]. This time the slayer knew for certain the voice was in her head. She looked at Willow by the water's edge.

[Don't worry, baby…you're slayer powers aren't going wonky]. Willow walked back to her girl.

"Did you just talk to me in my head?" Kennedy knew Willow had been able to do that with Tara and even Buffy and Xander.

"Yes…did it freak you out?" Willow remembered the scared reaction she received from Xander the first time she did it to him.

"I won't do it again, if you don't want me to." Willow didn't want to push her magick on Kennedy. The girl hadn't had the best of experiences with it.

"Yeah…there needs to be a strong connection for it to work…I felt you looking at me and then I heard what you said to me…or, umm…thought to me."

"Loud and clear…and Kenne?..." Willow got closer to her brunette, so close Kennedy could feel the breath of her lover on her cheek. "…I'll never leave you…."

The witch and the slayer stood embraced in a kiss engulfed by the darkening sky, the last light of day giving way to the twinkling lights of the bustling street life. But they didn't hear the clatter; the synchronized beating of their hearts was the only sound flowing around them.

Willow's birthday came to an end as it began, with Kennedy pampering her in bed. This time it wasn't a meal delighting the witch. When the couple got home, Kennedy once again swept her redhead into her arms and headed for the bedroom. This time, the brunette disconnected the phone – there would be no unexpected calls interrupting her plans. She made Willow sit on the bed while she went into another room. She was gone but for only a minute or so. Kennedy came back into the bedroom, hands behind her back. She went to Willow and sat beside her. Then she brought her arms around; sitting on the palm of her hand was a present, a box about the size of a cd and three times as thick. "Happy Birthday, Will."

"Kennedy…another present…you didn't have to…" Willow was taken aback by the overly generous nature of her girlfriend.

"The others were for your past and present…this is for your future." Kennedy fought with herself about the gifts she wanted to get Willow. She didn't want to over indulge, knowing money was an issue for the redhead. She didn't want to seem like she 'outdid' Willow when it came to their birthdays, but this was the first time the brunette wanted to make someone truly happy, to give a perfect birthday celebration. She wanted everything for Willow, and so she gave into the part of her that told her to splurge.

Willow unwrapped the present and lifted the lid off the box. "Oh, baby…it's beautiful." Inside, lying on black felt was a platinum necklace of intricate weave. At the middle of the strand, and as a part of the piece, as if holding the links together, were two hummingbirds, facing each other, their beaks and wings touching. The figures were fragile, the delicate features expertly worked into the precious metal.

Kennedy watched as her redhead studied the object. "I found it at a jewelry shop next to the Jewish deli you like. The guy told me the chain has a pattern common from Jewish communities at the turn of the century." Kennedy wasn't sure if she believed the story; the man may have told her that just to make a sale. She didn't care, it sounded nice. "Hummingbirds mate for life. I looked it up in one of your books…they mean devotion." Kennedy took the necklace and placed it around Willow's supple neck.

"I know this necklace isn't very original, but…" Willow cut her off with a quick kiss.

"It's perfect…like everything else…like this whole day." The witch had never had such an amazing birthday. It was because of her slayer. "Thank you Kennedy…thank you for the best day of my life." Willow was truly happy again and she wanted her girl to know. She leaned in and kissed her slayer, deeply. Willow pulled back startled.

"I know, I took it out." Kennedy had removed her tongue piercing. "You want me to put it back?"

The brunette wanted to give herself to Willow, just her, naked in all respects. A tiny part of her wanted to show Willow, and herself, she could make the woman agonize in pleasure without the aid of a piece of metal. She gently embraced her witch and they both collapsed on the bed, in a passionate kiss. Kennedy spent the next several hours, for which she thanked her slayer stamina, making love to Willow. After getting her witch naked, she kissed or caressed every inch of her lover. She sucked on her nipples while her hands stroked the inside of her lover's thigh and grazed the silky curvature of the witch's side. Kennedy's mission on Willow's aroused skin was not complete until she heard moaning pleas from the woman begging for more. Her mouth played with the witch's ear lobe and neck, her tongue searching and finding an ever yearning partner.

Kennedy brought Willow to thundering release throughout the night, once while Willow grabbed raven hair as the slayer's fingers and mouth did their magic on the witch's throbbing center. Another time was while sitting behind the embraced witch, Kennedy's hand dipping into that intimate place that was waiting for the rhythmic motion of expert fingers. The final ride into the orgasmic netherworld came for Willow while straddling above Kennedy who held onto the witch's hips. The redhead was facing and grasping the headboard, trembling to the sensations caused by her brunette's mouth on and in her core. Moans weren't enough, and for the first time, Willow called out her lover's name, "K-k-ennedy…oh, god…Kenn-n-n…" The feel of Willow's release above her and the sound of her own name were enough to send Kennedy over the edge.

After the lovers were spent and their bodies tangled together under the thin bed sheet, the words came softly, "I love you, Willow." The reply was just as tender. "I love you, Kennedy." The moment was an eternity of perfection for the lovers.

Neither would have ever expected that their lives were about to be drastically altered.

Main What's New Fiction by Author Fiction by Pairing eBooks

Subject Index Submissions Gallery Forums Links Awards Contact Us

If you find problems on these pages please email your host.

Alterations With Time

by LilBit

Copyright © 2005

Epallen@tampabay.rr.com