The Sacrifice 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.
Pairing: Willow/Kennedy

Summary: The final battle is over but something terrible is happening to Willow. How far will Kennedy go to keep her safe?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then Kennedy started to feel it. The slow seeping of her strength, her power, from her. Her essence was being pulled from her soul. The longer the chanting proceeded, the weaker she felt. She would not fight the coming of her death; she gave of herself completely, giving godspeed to her witch. It would not be much longer, she knew. She closed her eyes and let her mind meander, taking her where it willed in these last few moments. She saw her father and baby sister and was sad for all the things that should have been. She saw her mother and felt heartbreak for all the things that could have been. When Thomas came to her, she silently said to him, 'I'm sorry, Thomas…I tried my best.' Then her mind came to its final resting place…she saw the beautiful face of her love, her Willow.

"Say it again-" Xander had been keeping time for the spell for quite a while. Each time the command given, the watcher dutifully repeated the words. Initially, nothing seemed to happen to Willow or anyone else. But then, those in the room began to feel a charge, a tingling creeping up their spine. There started to emanate from each end of the staff held in Buffy's outstretched arms a bright concentrated glow. Then there came a breeze seemingly from no where, slight at first, then growing in intensity with each passing recount of the spell. After enough readings, the room had come to take the appearance of a man made wind tunnel. The wind was whipping around and the staff was shooting out bright fibers of white light. Those outside were perplexed with the whirling sounds they heard and the threads of light that escaped through the small opening in the wavering drapes. They were frightened for all the occupants in the room but knew they could do nothing but wait.

Faith got to the end of the dirt road and stopped when she saw the two giant stones described to her by Buffy. She dashed out of the car, turning the lights off but leaving the engine running. She scanned the area for a clue to her next move. Buffy's information ended with the stones. She started to walk around, and that's when she heard it…a low constant beating. The sound came from behind the huge rocks. Faith started towards them. Her vision was attracted to a shimmer on the ground ahead of her. She went to it, stared and bent down to pick up the shiny object – a cell phone. The slayer opened it, pushed the on button and felt relief when the number displayed matched that of the one given by Kennedy to Buffy. She pushed a few more buttons and saw there were seven missed calls over several hours, the last one coming from her, from Kennedy's and Willow's room. Faith knew she was close to the girl. 'Don't worry, kid…I won't leave you behind," it was a promise Faith intended not to break. She put the phone in her back pocket and quickly went to the giant stones, "Let's see what we have in here…" She disappeared between them.

The old woman stood beside the Anointed, listening to his words, the ones that would bring balance to the Mystery and death to the slayer. Old fading eyes locked on the face of the brave slayer, at first seeing nervousness and then tranquility. The chanting increased in intensity, the chiming of the journey sticks grew louder and faster. The ceremony had begun to reach a fevered pitch. The end was near; the old woman sensed that the brunette was giving into the divide. She waited for the answer, for her true purpose in this macabre sideshow that was her people's destiny. Then she saw the Anointed reach for the dagger at the girl's feet and lift it upward.

Giles continued to repeat the spell when directed. Xander was now standing also by the bed, next to Buffy. During the whirlwind of the experience, Willow had begun to move, to make her way ever so slowly back to this world. She was twitching and twisting, though never waking up or opening her eyes. But they flickered; her eyelids began to flutter like picture frames in an old silent movie. The wind had intensified to the degree that Giles had to hold on to the head board and Buffy and Xander to each other to keep from losing their footing. "HOW MUCH LONGER…" Buffy shouted over the noise from the wind. Giles shrugged and shouted back, "I DON'T THINK MUCH LONGER." He could tell that Willow was getting close to consciousness, that she was indeed coming back to life. With this thought, he remembered Kennedy and wondered if she were in any pain or scared. "GILES, IT'S TIME AGAIN." Xander's shouted directions brought the watcher back to the task at hand. And so he repeated the words, wondering if this were to be the last time.

Willow could feel her life again. She heard the voices around her, felt the bed underneath her. She was trying desperately to wake up, take that final leap into her existence again. The witch searched for that last bit of energy, power that had been taken, to rejuvenate so she could shed her present nightmare forever. She wanted her essence, her life…she wanted Kennedy.

Faith made her way through the rocks, and trees and found herself at the edge of the cliff where not so many hours before Kennedy had stood. She was in awe of the scene before her. The first question that hit her was 'where the hell did all these people come from?' She had seen no vehicles or other mode of transportation once she left her car. The clearing was amassed with people, in gowns, chanting and dancing and beating sticks together. As she searched the spectacle before her, she saw the altar up front, with what had to be the two strangers Buffy described. Then she looked harder and saw Kennedy on the altar, the brunette's head moved. 'Oh, shit…she's still alive.' Faith didn't know what to do; she didn't know what would happen next. It was decided for her.

The Anointed could feel the slayer, the focus, was almost at the edge of surrender. He had felt the shift in the focus as soon as he began to chant. There was a gentle caress of white light leaving his body, replaced with that of the palest shade of blue. The new power filtered in, he could sense the dimensional divide seeking that new focus. The Anointed knew that at the instant of submission, when the essence would flow freely, the dagger would be thrust into the heart, ending the physical barriers to the final transfer. The mortal vessel would be robbed of its life force in order to return eternal life to the Mystery. The Anointed felt the rush like a wave flowing through him. The end was almost visible now. He grabbed and raised the dagger high above his head gripped with both hands. His chanting became louder and more urgent.

Faith saw the man raise the dagger. She reacted instinctively. She wanted to get to Kennedy, make contact with her, so that the younger slayer would know she wasn't alone, that someone who cared was there with her at the end. Faith didn't worry about exposing herself, about the danger she might be placing herself in by her actions. She leapt off the cliff and landed in stride to run to her sister slayer. She called out, "Kennedy…I'm here…I'm here." She quickly came up to the throngs of people and began pushing them aside. She pushed and shoved her way through the bodies, trying to get to Kennedy. She clawed her way to the front of the hoard of people, to full view of the altar, just as she saw the dagger come down. "No-o-o-o-o…"

Faith didn't feel the rock that hit her in the back of the head sending her crashing to the ground.

Kennedy never knew that the Anointed lifted the dagger. Her eyes were closed and she was at peace. She no longer heard the chants or the rhythmic pounding. There was only silence. There was only the moment, the one that would last an eternity. One thought…one face…one word…

Willow shot up like a catapult sitting upright on the bed. The witch slouched over briefly then sat up again, violently arching her back as far as possible and inhaling. She forcefully breathed in as if she had never had oxygen in her lungs, like she was breathing for the first time. She held the breath, then let it out slowly when she realized it was safe to do so. Wide open emerald eyes searched the room and found those of her best friends.

The brilliant light in the room was gone as was the cyclone wind. Only the little bedside lamp shed light into the room. Tears fell from the eyes of the three figures standing. They were tears of joy; they were tears of sorrow.

"I'm alive…" Willow knew she was back, she would not die; she was in her world again. Staring at those who had been by her side these so many years, the redhead felt in awe of her life, how precious it was, those who'd come and gone, all leaving a brush stroke on her life's canvass. She wanted to hug them all, thank the friends who were responsible for her return. She wanted to dive into chocolate eyes and kiss her slayer, her protector and savior.

Willow gazed around and, as anxious as a child on Christmas morning, made a quick motion to rollover and get out of bed. Her body would not follow her command and she instead fell, tumbling to the floor, numbness in her limbs. Buffy and Xander were by her side at once, crouching to help their friend sit up again. Buffy's look to Giles was filled with terror, with the possibility that the spell had not worked.

"I'm…I'm ok…just got carried away I guess." The blonde slayer's eyes softened with her friend's reassurance.

"You've been lying in bed for quite a while,,,you've been through a great ordeal. You're still probably weak from that," offering some fatherly concern, "You should lie down again…don't push yourself. Let things come back at their own pace."

"Good idea Giles…don't wanna be breaking any bones at this point." With that, the two friends helped Willow back onto the bed letting her sit, her back resting against the headboard.

"You want something to eat or drink, Will?" Xander didn't know how to act. "Some water would be nice." Xander dashed to the bathroom and quickly came out, "No glasses…I'll go get something from the soda machine at the front desk." The witch nodded in agreement and, before he left, Xander embraced the redhead, "Nice to have you back." He then walked out the door, closing it behind him.

After a moment of silence, Willow asked inquisitively, "So what happened to me and where's Kennedy?"

Buffy and Giles looked at each other, uneasy with the questions, unsure of how or where to start. If bad news had to be told, the watcher decided it would be for him to disclose. He didn't want this talk to be one shared by the two women, one that they would hold as a bonded experience for the rest of their lives. He started the talk that he knew would end in heartache but decided to divert the issue of Kennedy's whereabouts for as long as possible.

"Well, Willow, when you performed the slayer spell, you created an enormous shift in the universe's energy…" He continued to tell the witch of the shift, the imbalance created. He recounted the calls to the coven and council members and their shared theory of the cause.

"That's what happened…what it felt like. Something was…draining my power. I could…could feel it pulling. It wasn't good or evil…but it wouldn't stop." Giles couldn't help but wonder what the experience was like. But then Kennedy's face flashed before him and he dropped the thought. He continued with his exposition of Willow's wild ride into the fringes of the interdimensional divide, first discussing how he obtained Jorge Condolenza's name and then the strange visit to the man.

"Those carvings and things you saw are for protection. I studied that not too long ago. If this guy had any part of the mind games I had, I can see why he was scared. It wasn't just the confusion…it started to hurt," Willow grew silent for several moments, "…really hurt…" Her eyes welled up. "…excruciating…the more I tried to get away…the…the worse it got." Buffy, who was now sitting on the bed, took her friend's hand in comfort. Blue eyes looked at Giles telling him to go on with the story.

"Once we returned form Mr. Condolenza's…" Giles then retold the information he eventually gathered about the Truxdeiro and their role in Willow's trip into the abyss.

"So did ya go find them…Did Kennedy find them?' Willow asked softly. There was an awkward feel in the air.

"Kennedy and I had already left for La Founita, before Giles and Xander got back." Buffy tried to say the words without emotion but her tone and darting eyes told Willow she was holding something back.

"Will…I d-didn't know…she didn't tell me…" Buffy choked back the emotion. The redhead stared at the two, first one, then the other and back again. She waited for either of them to unveil the news that she knew had to be bad, even if she wasn't exactly sure of the content.

"Buffy…what's happened to Kennedy." Her voice was adamant. Giles could not bear to see his slayer struggle with this burden.

"Willow…Kennedy wanted nothing more than for you to be well…she loved you…" Willow listened as Giles told her of the spell, of the young slayer's decision to let her life be taken to save the redhead's. At some point, Willow no longer heard the words; she only saw Giles' mouth moving. She couldn't register what was being said. Kennedy was gone?

Without prompt, the witch rejected the watcher's explanation, "No, she can't be…she was there, with me…I came back because of her. Sh-she kept me f-fighting…fighting to stay alive." Then the witch whispered, "She told me she'd find the…answer." That's when the truth hit her. The witch knew Giles was right. She had felt a connection to the brunette and then she grew stronger. She was alive because Kennedy chose to give up her life.

The emotion came crashing over the witch like a tsunami. Giles and Buffy looked on as Willow buried her face in her hands and began to sob uncontrollably. The slayer motioned Giles to leave so she could try to console her friend's despair.

Giles left the room and stopped in front of the other slayers who looked in disbelief. Xander was holding a crying Dawn, bottled water in his hand. He stared at the watcher, not knowing how to ease the girls' pain from the news he had just told them.

"Ladies, I know this is a difficult time. It's hard to grasp…but we must try to hold up for Willow. I know you're concerned…but please, go back to your rooms. We mustn't call attention to our situation." Giles feared nosey motel guests and an unwanted visit by the local police checking out a 'late night disturbance.' The bewildered slayers complied and followed Dawn as she led them away. "We'll keep you informed of everything that happens." The watcher added. They walked away knowing Willow would be fine but that their fellow slayer was gone.

"Xander, I wouldn't go in there now…Willow knows everything…she took the news very hard…Buffy's with her."

"God, Giles…will it always be like this, always a crisis…always somebody dying?"

"I don't know, Xander. We live with the extraordinary; I don't think we can expect our lives to be normal."

"I don't need normal…just not so much senseless pain." His words resonated through the watcher. Giles placed his hand on his comrade's shoulder, his only answer, only comfort he could give the young man.

Willow sobbed into Buffy's shoulder for what seemed like hours. She couldn't hold back the sadness. She cried until there were no tears; until all that was left was her grief. She leaned back from her friend, "Why, Buffy…why would she do that?"

"She loved you, Will – " It was the truth, the blonde knew, " – she told me to tell you that." The redhead's eyes searched her friend's for understanding.

"But she was finally a slayer…how could she give up everything…everything she worked for?" There was confusion in her voice.

Willow's grief was beginning to overtake her again. She could feel the tears coming, feel the lump in her throat and stabbing feeling in her heart. "I never told her, Buffy…never told her how I felt…what she meant to me." The tears began, again. "Oh, Buffy…she died…not…not knowing. Oh, God…why didn't I tell her…" Willow was breathing in gasps, in between pockets of sobbing. "Kennedy, I'm sorry, baby…I'm so sorry…" She covered her face with her hands and let the floodgates open.

Buffy embraced the witch, once more, trying to calm her friend, knowing there was no quick fix, no band-aid for her broken heart. Her friend would have to survive yet another loss. "Sh-shhh, Willow," the slayer whispered. She held onto her friend, rocking, through the long early morning hours.

They must have dozed off from exhaustion because Buffy woke up when she heard and then saw Xander reenter the room. She raised her finger to her lips, a sign to Xander to be quiet so as not to wake the still sleeping Willow. She looked at the clock on the nightstand – 5:19am – Her thoughts drifted to Faith and the status of her mission and whereabouts.

As if the thought willed it, the phone rang. Xander ran to answer it before it woke the redhead, but to no

avail. The witch was startled from her sleep, disoriented to her present location.

Xander grabbed the receiver and placed it to his ear, "Hello..." There was silence on the other end then muffled speech. Xander had a confused look on his face. "Faith? Is that you…you're breaking up…I can't hear you…" He strained to make out the words, trying to block out the crackling noises and the voice fading in and out.—

"Got here…" *silence* "…body…" *crackling* "…trying to get …car…" * crackling * "…Kennedy…" * silence * "…coming back…"

Willow grabbed his hand, "That was Faith?...what'd she say?" The witch was hoping for a miracle.

"I couldn't get it all, the phone was cutting out." Xander didn't want to tell his friend how this would end.

"Faith got there. It sounded like she found Kennedy and is bringing her…" he hesitated, "…body…back. She was on her way to the car, I think. That's it. Then the call cut out." He felt so bad for Willow, "I'm sorry, Will." The redhead let go of his hand and lay back on the bed, looking at the ceiling.

"Could you guys leave me alone…I wanna be alone right now." It was neither a plea nor a demand, just a fact. Buffy and Xander glanced at each other, not knowing what Willow would do if left alone, not sure of her emotional state.

"It's ok, guys…I'm not going to try to end the world. I…I just need some time by myself to think." The two friends trusted their witch. Buffy got off the bed and went to Xander's side. They turned to leave, Xander leaving the bottled water on the nightstand. "We'll be in my room if you need anything…Ok, Will?" Buffy needed her friend to know she had a life line waiting. The witch smiled sadly, "Ok, Buffy." The two started to leave. Willow sat up.

"Buffy…Xander. Thank you. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you, too. I can't say anything big enough except…thank you...and I love you both." The slayer and the childhood friend gave a weak smile, recognition of their small part in Willow's recovery. Then they proceeded out the door, leaving the redhead to her memories.

Willow got off the bed and walked around the room. The bedside lamp threw light out into only part of the room, but it was enough for Willow to examine the contents of her temporary home. There was no evidence of Kennedy's existence, no clothes, jewelry or pictures, nothing to show she was ever a part of the redhead's life. Willow wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm proof you existed." She stated out loud. "Because of you, I'm still here." Her mind recounted her battle with the Mystery. "It's you I heard when I was ready to give in…you I saw when I thought I couldn't go on…you knew I was strong enough."

Even her time with Tara hadn't turned the redhead toward death. Reflecting, she realized she hadn't wanted to give in then. She thought back to her dream. She never went to Tara, never said she couldn't live now without her, never said she loved only her. Her words to Tara were those of someone who had let go, who had learned to carry the love in her heart without shutting herself off. She didn't give up because she wanted Kennedy, needed the girl…loved her.

"I love you, Kennedy-" She said the words out loud hoping her slayer was listening.

It all became clear to her. She loved Kennedy but had been too scared to let her in. Too frightened to chance losing another. Too scared she wasn't over Tara, that is was too soon. Too worried about a future with a slayer. The brunette was not a meek person like Tara. Willow had often felt like she had to protect the blonde witch from harm, which concerned her at times because the redhead considered herself anything but a fighter. Kennedy was just the opposite. She trained for danger, her destiny was fighting evil. The redhead knew the girl would place herself in harm's way to save an innocent. With Kennedy, Willow's worry wouldn't be a stray bullet taking her life, but the slayer's very real day-to-day confrontation with the evil in the world. The idea of Kennedy being on the frontline terrified the witch.

But now, looking around the tiny room, hearing Kennedy's soft whispers from when they made love the night before, seeing her radiant smile, Willow discovered she would gladly deal with her fear if she could just have the girl back in her arms. To get lost in chocolate eyes, kiss soft inviting lips, feel the strength that exuded from the brunette. She now wished she had pushed the girl to let her in, to lower her defenses and share her fears. Guilt came washing over the redhead, shame for not having given the time and energy to the girl that she deserved. Kennedy had brought Willow back to life in every way. Now the witch couldn't share that life with the one person who had made it possible.

Willow suspected there were those who weren't lucky enough to find true love. Even among those who had loved and lost, only some would find the devotion again, for many probably only after much struggle. Then there were the very few, the truly lucky like her, who lost only to have love come pounding at their door, pushing to get in. Kennedy was that insistent passion. She was there holding herself out, hoping for the witch to be brave enough to take another chance. Willow now realized it wasn't the time between loves that mattered, that determined the depth of it. It was the love itself. The time between Tara and Kennedy didn't decide the genuineness of their relationship, because the young slayer's love was real, and Willow shared in the feeling. "If I only could have told you how I really felt."

She glanced at the clock – 7:41am – 'This is it.' This was another moment she would carry with her for the rest of her life. She was pulled by her need to see her slayer, though what she would see brought panic. Would the body be limp like Tara's or would it be different, because of the ritual. Her heartbeat quickened and she found herself holding her breath. The redhead had to do this. It would be her responsibility to call Kennedy's father with the sad news, her duty to make sure her rescuer was laid to rest in peace. She followed Xander.

When Willow got outside, the Altima was already stopped, driver's side facing her. Faith was out of the car, making her way to the front passenger door. Willow's legs wouldn't move at first, then gave in to her brain's demand. She rushed around to the passenger's side as Faith opened the door.

Then she saw her, her slayer. Her clothes were torn, soiled and blood stained, dirt was in her hair and on her skin mingled with the caked on blood. Then she saw the eyes, those dark brown eyes. She stood there looking at the figure, unable to move or speak.

"Hey Red, looks like you're feeling a lot better." A smiling Kennedy said as she stood up from the seat of the car.

The dagger went to the sky and the old woman's mind raced for sense out of the madness. She searched the recesses of her life's experience to capture the meaning of the act that was imminent before her. She wanted a reason for being witness to the death of one so worthy of life, an answer for cutting short a life so full of possibilities. 'Why the end for this slayer when there are others who care not for life…others who have outgrown it…' Her thoughts stopped frozen.

The old woman then understood why she was still in this world; she realized her destiny's end. The old woman had to be here for this ceremony, had to the one to be brave enough to alter the path. It was as if she had known all along. She had been left on this earth to fulfill one last obligation, to perform one last act of freely given kindness. The old woman let go of her life.

As the dagger came slicing down, the old woman threw herself onto Kennedy and took the blade deep into her back. It plunged in, cutting through her heart, passing through her ribs…and into Kennedy.

Kennedy's thought of Willow burst when she felt a weight land across her. Then she experienced a sharp stabbing pain to the middle of her chest. Brown eyes opened and saw the old woman draped across her. Blood was Kennedy's next visual sensation. The crimson liquid was seeping off the body onto the brunette's shoulder and neck. The brunette lifted her head up and her eyes followed the river of scarlet up the old woman's body and stopped at the dagger protruding out her back. Disorientation quickly left the slayer as she understood the scene before her, on her. Her hands went to the shoulders of the figure and Kennedy lifted her up, the dagger sliding out of the brunette's chest where it had made its final stop. Kennedy could feel the blade slip out and was relived when she realized the wound was not fatal. She could tell it had pierced the skin and hit, but not broken, her sternum. In one motion, Kennedy sat up, and held the old woman as she flung her legs over the altar side. She got off the slab, old woman still in her hold, and rested the woman on the ground on her side, kneeling beside her.

The Anointed, during this cosmic change in scene, was dumb founded, and shocked to the point of stillness. He stood there and watched as the blood and life poured from the old woman's body, as the brunette rose from the would-be dead and laid his clansman to the ground. He stared as Kennedy took the dagger from the woman's back and tossed the bloodied instrument to the side. He could not move until the old woman was placed on her back, and he saw the bubbling red life trickle out the side of her mouth, forcing out tiny crimson bubbles with each gasping breath. He could not comprehend how she was still alive, why her tattered heart still beat. The Anointed went to the woman, collapsed to his knees beside her and placed his hands behind her head, lifting it up hoping to make her struggle for breath easier. He was no longer the Anointed, just an artichoke farmer who was losing a mentor, a friend.

"Why…why did you do this?" he said softly to the dying woman, the mother tongue still stuck to his words. A barely audible reply crept between the gasps as she looked at the man, "It w-was meant…to…to be…my time to go…it was m-my…choice." Ageless eyes then turned to Kennedy and a blood covered hand reached for Kennedy's cheek. "Live slayer…it is done…" The declaration bare in English. The old woman's body heaved a final gasp of air and then went limp. The slayer knew at that instant her redheaded witch was alive, that the obligation was fulfilled. She had no time to think about the ramifications.

Aguilo, still holding the woman's head in his hands cried out, for the pain of the death to his clan, to him. He laid her head down and glared at the brunette. Springing forward, he grabbed her by neck. "What have you done…" he screamed, the language of his people having been discarded in his rage, "…do you see what you've done?" He pulled Kennedy's face down into the old woman's, smearing the blood onto the brunette's face. The man pushed her back up when he noticed the commotion overtaking the crowd.

Once the clanspeople realized the spectacle that had occurred before them, they became confused, horrified and angry. They began to crowd together, creeping their way closer to the front of the clearing. Many started to shout; they looked around, seeking guidance from anyone to answer their cries of shock. There was movement from the back of the throng and loud discourse. It grew stronger as clan members were forced from their position, pushed out of the way by fellow clan who dragged a body between them. Two clansmen hauled the unconscious Faith to the altar area and threw her to the ground beside Kennedy. Aguilo leaned over, bewildered at the sight of yet another intruder, another broken link in the ceremony's events. He touched her face and felt the power rush through him again. 'another slayer', he knew instantly.

The brunette shocked by the sight of her fellow slayer, placed her hand to Faith's throat, searching for a pulse, relieved when one was found.

"Why is she here?" Aguilo shouted angrily, his mother tongue regained. He feared an ambush on his people or a conspiracy meant to expose them to an unaccepting, non-believing world.

"I d-don't know…I didn't know s-s-she was coming." The bewilderment in the words matched that in the brunette's head. Kennedy went to stand up but was struck by one of the clansman who had dumped Faith by her side. She fell to the ground out cold.

When Faith woke up she immediately realized she was restrained. She looked around and saw she was chained to hooks in the rock behind the altar. Much to her surprise, she saw Kennedy likewise shackled beside her. 'I saw you die…' the older slayer thought to herself, '…or did I?' Faith tried to recall that last scene before she lost consciousness. She recalled Kennedy on the altar, the man holding a knife high above his head and another beside him, the old woman. Then the knife came down. 'No…the knife started to come down…I didn't see it go into Kennedy.' Faith looked around her and saw something on the ground beside the altar. It looked like a small body, covered by one of the robes worn by the people in the clearing. She could see blood pooled around the figure. Then the pieces started to come to her. She remembered being fixated on the knife and then there was movement out of the corner of her eye just before her voyage into darkness. She realized the person lying dead underneath the bloodied garment had to be the old lady and that she had taken the knife for Kennedy.

Faith then slowly glanced around and saw a man to her right away from the altar guarding them. In the clearing she still saw people, but the number was miniscule compared to that on her arrival. There were only about a dozen or so left – some women, mostly men. Those who remained were no longer in ceremonial garb but typical American fare, sweatshirts, flannel shirts and jeans. They were in loud discussion. She then scanned the still sleeping Kennedy and nudged her with her shoulder. "Kennedy, wake up," she whispered, smiling that she would not be retrieving a dead slayer.

The brunette eased her way back into consciousness, wincing at the dull pounding ache at the base of her skull. She swept the cobwebs from her brain and turned to look at Faith. "What the hell are you doing here?" She questioned softly.

"Nice to see you, too, K. Thought you could have a party without me?" There was happy sarcasm in the whispered reply. Kennedy understood the risk the once dark slayer had placed herself in and she softened her approach.

"Sorry…I'm just…surprised to see you." She stated apologetically. "So, why are you here?" Faith then proceeded to very quietly and discreetly tell Kennedy of the events that lead her to her present predicament with the brunette. Kennedy was deeply moved by the older slayer's concern and loyalty to her. "Looks like getting me outta here now is going to be a bit more of a challenge," she softly chuckled. "Hey, you're alive…we'll figure the rest out." The two women shared a moment of gratitude, then Faith said motioning her head to the crowd, "I'm pretty sure they're deciding what to do with us." She added, "I don't know how long we've been out or what time it is."

With those last words, several members of the clan in the heated discussion turned, motioned to the slayers and began to talk violently as they broke from the group, walking towards the women. It was obvious to the slayers these members had already chosen their desired course of action. They swept down on the two chained women, drawing clubs and knives from behind their backs, aiming them at their faces. They were screaming in their ancient dialect, getting ever so closer to their decided enemies.

Before they were able to do harm with their weapons, the clan guard stepped in front of the slayers and shouted back at the renegades, causing them to halt immediately. Aguilo, who had also been in the crowd, came up behind them quickly, yelling at the vigilante rogues. He pushed them to the side and pointed back to the clearing. The punished members sulked back to the crowd like disciplined children. The guard stepped back to his sentry post and Aguilo moved forward, directly in front of the slayers, staring at them.

"I'm sorry about your friend, " Kennedy said heart felt then paused. "But why are we chained? The ceremony's over and there's balance…please let us go." The brunette knew there was no longer reason to hide her intentions behind a foreign language.

Aguilo was not so convinced of the recent events to drop his mother tongue. "You cannot go. Our obligation is a holy secret. The outside does not know nor could they understand our duty…You will talk; it is inevitable. Then my people will be doomed and cast out…I will not allow that." Aguilo was father to the clanship, protective as a father bear. But he knew there was another reason for the girls' retention.

"You know I wasn't the cause…she chose that herself…you heard her." Kennedy pleaded.

The man didn't respond. Aguilo contemplated the situation. His clan had lost a strong and powerful force, lost wisdom and a linchpin in their unity. But he also knew the old woman went willingly and for this he knew there must be a reason. Still as the anointed, he owed his people loyalty and that meant no exposure. He was once again caught between the man and the obligation, Aguilo and the Anointed. However, this time his opinion was not the only decider. There were other elders and they wanted death for the slayers. Torn, Aguilo walked back to the group, hoping for resolution to his warring soul.

The two chained women knew they were in trouble and needed to escape. Kennedy scoping the area noticed that the guard to her left was the man who had chained her before the ceremony. Looking at Faith and moving her eyes in his direction, she said in a soft voice, "He chained us. He's got the key."

Faith understood the brunette's message. They could not rest their fate in the hands of these people. They had to get out and they would only get one chance. "Faith, this is a circular enclosure…rocks all around it. We're at the front I know because I came in from the other end."

"Yeah, me too. I left the car on the road where you and B were…but we won't make it trying to go back out that way. We'll get filleted even before we make it to the pit." Faith's brain was churning for a plan.

Faith scanned the area. "That just might work, kid…If we can get back, the car's running. We could be outta Dodge in no time."

Both women scrutinized the rock formations. They ones behind them were sheer cliffs. However the ones to the other side on the right were grouped with fissures and jagged edges that followed through the rocky masses. Faith tilted her head to the right, "There's our best chance over there…but we need outta these god damned chains." She was already onto the next dilemna.

Kennedy looked again at the guard. "Get him here and we knock him over and…" Faith cut her off.

"Can't…the others'll see." She strained for a solution. "I know…get ready to follow my lead…get him over here somehow…pretend you're getting out of your cuffs or whatever."

Kennedy did as she was told and began to shake and twist her arms and wrists, pulling at the shackles as if she was slipping out of them. The ruse worked for the guard went to her upon seeing her motions and knelt down in front of her. He leaned forward to take her arms. When he did Faith took both of her bent legs, twisted swiftly and side kicked the man in the gut. It happened like the flick of a whip and just as fast. The man completely winded, grunted and started to fall forward.

"Grab him…" Faith quickly commanded, "…keep him up…make it look like he's kneeling over you, fixing the chains." Kennedy pushed the guard upright with her hands. She then looked the man over, searching for the key. Seeing it on a chain around his wrist, she snatched it with one hand keeping the other against the man's chest to keep the deception alive. She unlocked her shackles and quickly freed Faith, never letting the guard move an inch.

Slayer eyes viewed the sight around them. No one had seen a thing; they were still in discussion. Looking now at Kennedy, Faith murmured, "Ok, on three we run for the rocks...one…two…" On three, Kennedy pushed the guard to the side and the slayers sprang to their feet and headed for the waiting rocks. The clan members were brought out of their discussion with the sudden noise and movement. They saw the women running and instantly several started after them.

Kennedy and Faith ran, and as they jumped over the body of the old woman, the younger slayer silently thanked her for her sacrifice, for a kindness that the brunette knew she could never understand but for which she would be eternally grateful.

The two slayers made it to the rock formations and started up them in stride. They frantically climbed up and over the boulders and across crevasses making their way farther and farther into the enclosure's boundary markers. They could hear clan following like a pack of wild dogs.

As they made their way through, Faith fell into a deep crevasse and her foot got stuck between the rocks. Kennedy was behind her instantly, pulling at her leg to dislodge it. "What…this isn't hairy enough for 'ya…you gotta get stuck so the 'Deliverance' boys can catch up…" Kennedy quipped sarcastically as she tugged one last time, freeing Faith's leg. She pulled her sister slayer up and they were off again. Their progress was quick but hampered slightly because, being out of the clearing, there was only the scarce moonlight through the trees to light their escape. The moon was low in the sky and few moonbeams managed to creep through the overhanging foliage. But they kept moving forward. They could hear the clan behind them, getting closer. Glancing back, Faith saw the torches, heard their voices and the constant marching towards them.

The slayers kept running through the rocks, stumbling, falling until they ran out into an open field, leaving the woods and rocks behind them. They stopped. They could see around them only because of the unobstructed view for the moonlight. "Where are we?" Faith asked out of breath.

Kennedy was searching also gasping for breath. "We must be on the other side…there were trees lining part of the road where Buffy and I were. I bet if we follow the edge of the woods here, it'll lead us back to the road." So the two slayers started running once more.

It wasn't long after the slayers left that the vigilante clan members also came running out of the rock and wooded area. Aguilo was the last to emerge. He stopped and listened. "They're going for the road." The men started running; the hunt was on.

"They're getting closer Faith," Kennedy shouted. Just then, as she jumped over a dead tree limb on the ground, the brunette's left leg landed in a gopher hole; she heard her ankle break as it twisted. She fell to the ground. "A-a-g-g-h-h," she screamed as she grabbed for her leg. "Fuck! I think I broke my ankle." She gritted her teeth, trying to push the pain out of her mind. Kennedy attempted to get up only to fall when the foot touched the ground and the leg buckled. She could see the torches behind them, gaining ground. "Faith, go…they're right behind us…get outta here…" she pleaded to her fellow escapee.

Faith ran back to the girl, grabbed her underneath both arms and pulled her up. She placed Kennedy's right arm around her shoulder holding it there with her own and placed her left arm around the waist of the injured brunette. "You go where I go, kid…you think these guys just wanna talk sports?" Faith resumed running, pulling Kennedy along, the girl writhing in pain as she tried to make both feet work to get them to freedom.

They finally made it to the road. "We made it Faith…where's the car?" Faith hurriedly searched and spotted the vehicle about thirty yards below to the left. The older slayer pointed. "There it is. Let's go." They were off again. When they got about half the way to the car, the chasing clan members reached the roadside.

Faith dragged Kennedy to the front passenger side, opened the door and sat her down. She rushed to the driver's side and got in. "Shit!" The engine was off and there was no key in the ignition. "Where the fuck did the keys go?" Faith hastily canvassed the interior, touching everything like a blind man, finding nothing.

At that moment, the clan descended on them. One opened the driver's door and pulled Faith out by the arm. Another two were on Kennedy's side; they grabbed her by her good leg and jerked her out, dragging her on the ground. The one grabbing Faith started clubbing her. The slayer put her arms to her face and head, shielding herself from serious damage. She sprang back out of the opposition's range and caught her balance. The slayer immediately went into a fighting stance. She glared at the man. "You really want to do this?...Ok, let's dance, asshole." The slayer charged the man, grabbed his club and, while it was still in his hand, turned it and shoved the end into his ribcage. He had the breath knocked out of him before he knew what happened. Faith then took the staff from his hands and brought it straight up, hitting him under the chin with it like an uppercut, knocking him out. She had no time to strut in her victory for two other clansmen attacked her with knives.

Kennedy was busy trying to keep her two attackers off her. They were kicking and stomping their boots on her. She felt ribs crack. There was dirt in her eyes and she had trouble seeing where her assailants were. When she saw a shadow come at her, she twisted and blocked it with her bad leg. Kennedy then reached down with her hand and grabbed onto a boot. She flipped it over, sending the man attached to the boot to the ground. He fell into the other assailant knocking him off balance and backwards. That gave Kennedy enough time and space to stand up which she did in excruciating pain. She stood there, her left leg lifted slightly so her foot was dangling just off the ground. The first man to fall quickly righted himself, and seeing the wounded prey went to pounce on her. Kennedy was ready. Though her slayer skills were still new to her, she adjusted to them quickly, knowing her capabilities as if she had held them for years. She waited until her assailant was almost upon her and, when he lunged, she bent over, sending the man onto her back. She then lifted up with all her strength and sent the man sailing through the air behind her. He landed heavy on his head, flipping over on end. He stopped and stayed motionless.

The second man attacking Kennedy jumped her as soon as his clan brother hit the air. He pushed Kennedy to the ground, and had his hands around her neck, choking her. She easily pried his fingers loose, and in one quick motion, head butted the man, sending blood gushing down his forehead. The brunette punched him in the face and pushed him off her, where he rolled several times reeling in pain. She crawled away making it to the car where she used the open door to help her stand up.

Faith thought she was ready for her two knifed assailants. She was set to make quick work of the first to run at her, but just when he was almost to her, she eyed Kennedy in her peripheral vision standing up by the open car door with one of the clan about to hit her from behind. It was enough to distract the older slayer and she missed the man who lunged at her, his blade cutting across her arm. She quickly regrouped and caught the back of his shirt as he passed. She whipped him around and clothes lined him with her other arm. He fell, the knife twirling through the air, his hands to his throat, choking. The time Faith spent on that clan member allowed the other to move to her right, in her blind spot for a surprise attack, or so he thought. When her back was turned, he came at her. Faith's slayer hearing caught the sound of his shoes on the dry grass and she bent down as he swiped at her with knife in hand. He missed her completely and lost his footing. Before he had a chance to fall over, Faith had twisted around and grabbed him by his shoulder length hair. She jerked him to the ground, and straddled him, with one knee on each arm. She snatched the weapon from his hand and put it to his throat. Rage filled her. Everything inside her told her to push the blade across his neck, to do to him what he had intended to do to her. She pressed the cold steel against sweaty flesh, staring at terrified eyes looking back. Then something crept into her thoughts, 'Do this and it's back to the old me.' Reason took over rage, and brought calmness to her mind. She was no longer the wild renegade; she was a true slayer. She eased the knife from the man's neck; there would be no more human life lost. She threw the weapon far into the open field, and stood up bringing the man with her. Then she shoved him, sending him yards away, crashing to the ground. She scanned the area and saw Kennedy standing beside one of the clan kneeling on the ground, beside the front of the car.

The brunette heard her third attacker before she saw him. She was standing, leaning on the open door, when her slayer hearing picked up on the slapping of a hand on metal. She turned her head to the left and saw another of the clan bolting across the front of the car, his outstretched arm placed on the hood for leverage. But he never made it to her. Kennedy squatted and the man went over her. She grabbed him by the collar after he hit the ground. She then lifted him up and shoved him into the back passenger door. There was a loud thud as his head met hard steel. He too slumped to the ground.

The young slayer quickly found Faith still in combat with her two knifed clansmen and was about to go help when another clan came into her view, seemingly out of darkness. He had somehow gotten by her side, so close he could have touched her. It was then she saw the dagger in his hand; the same implement that she had taken out of the old woman's back, the same one that had been driven into her flesh. She turned slowly and brown eyes stared directly into those of the Anointed. The two didn't stir, neither spoke, each searching for the right move, the good decision. They stood and waited. Kennedy thought she saw conflict on the stranger's face. The brunette still made no motion, only allowing her breathing to turn even from ragged. She knew she had to wait for the man to decide…to choose his clan or the legacy of the old woman. Time seemed stuck in thick mud. Then the Anointed made his choice. He started to lift the dagger slowly and awkwardly, like his muscles were battling against his brain's directions. His hand began to shake, his fingers to open…and the dagger fell to the ground. And so did the man, to his knees. He bowed down his head. Aguilo, the man, had won over the Anointed. He could not take this life; he could not desecrate the righteous act of the old woman. He placed his hand in his pocket and slowly took out an object – a key on a chain. "Take this and go…these men will recover soon…and the other elders will be upon us soon." Aguilo talked like a defeated general, proud but shamed of his loss. He couldn't look Kennedy in the face. He had failed his clan and his holy duty because he could not be less of a man than he was.

It was the fact that the words were in English that made the young slayer feel sorrow for the man. What penance his clan would extract she didn't know but she was certain it wouldn't be as wrenching as the punishment the man would keep inside him because of this night. She took the key from him. "Thank you." It was said with the utmost of respect.

She turned around to see Faith running towards her. "You alright, K?" Kennedy glanced back at Aguilo and then told her, "Yeah…let's go." She threw the keys to Faith and hobbled to the passenger's side.

The two women got into the Altima and Faith quickly started the engine, put it in drive and floored it. The back wheels spun, sending dirt and stone everywhere. She spun the car around and headed back up the long winding road.

As the Altima grew smaller, the clan who had been beaten by the slayers began to wake up. They stood and went to the anointed. Behind them, more clan made their way through the mammoth rock entranceway. Within seconds, they were all watching the car speed away.

"Go after them…but only to the highway…we can't afford further exposure." Aguilo knew the men would never catch the slayers, but it would at least give them false comfort of knowing they tried. Some of the men ran to the far side of the sentry rocks and disappeared only to appear minutes later in trucks and cars driving by after their prey.

Faith drove as fast as she could down the serpentine road. They both laughed out loud when they turned left onto the main street. The older slayer checked her arm and decided the cut was not serious; with her heightened healing ability, it would be gone in a few hours. Other than that, she came out of the fight unscathed. Looking at Kennedy, Faith could see she did not fair as well.

"I think I broke some ribs…and the knife that went through the old lady went into me, too…but that's not serious." They were tracking injuries like store inventory.

Kennedy said nothing, then looked at Faith puzzled. "Faith…what the hell does that mean?" Faith furrowed her brow. No one had ever asked her that in all the times she said it. "It means strong and clear…an old military communication term." The younger slayer accepted the answer, looked ahead then turned back to the once dark slayer with an expression that said 'military stuff?' Faith saw the expression.

Faith then sat up quickly like she had just remembered something important. She shoved her hand into her back pocket and took out the cell phone. She flipped it open and hit the recall button. "Gotta call home, let everyone know you're ok." She was beaming with a smile that took over her whole face.

Just as someone answered, a car swerved out from a little side street behind them. Then a truck did the same. "Shit…I don't think this is over, yet." Her voice was filled with concern. Faith gunned the gas and tried to lose the trailing vehicles while still attempting to get her message to the waiting person on the other end of the line. She listened for a voice. "Great…the reception sucks, too…so much for 'Can you hear me now?'…" The stalkers had gotten closer and the truck was coming up fast on Faith's side.

"Faith, what do 'ya want me to do?" The older slayer knew the brunette was in no shape to do much. "Just hold on K…you've done your share…let me do mine." Faith swerved the car to the left, trying to force the truck away from them. Then she heard a voice on the phone; she knew she had to talk fast.

"Xander…that you?...listen, I gotta talk fast…I got here and Kennedy was still alive. Somebody knocked us out. The Truxdeiro were trying to get us…to kill us, but we escaped. We're in the car now…Tell Willow Kennedy is fine…we'll be coming back soon…"

That's when the driver's side window crashed in from a rock thrown by someone in the truck which was directly beside them. Glass went everywhere. Faith jumped from the blast of the window and the cell phone flew out of her hand and out the shattered window. "Fuck! There goes the phone…I don't know if he heard me." Kennedy looked back, "Shit…the other one's right on our tail," she yelled to Faith. That's when she saw the sign. "Faith…up ahead…to the right. It's the exit for the highway…we need to get on open road." The brunette could see this was their only chance.

"Hold on!" Faith shouted as she floored the gas again, heading for the exit. She waited until she was right on top of it and turned to the right sharply, screeching the tires and coaxing the vehicle out of its desired path of straight ahead for the veering one that would put them on the highway. The Altima responded, it stayed on the exit ramp and they were soon speeding down a six lane expressway. The two women instantly noticed that neither the truck nor car followed.

"They didn't seem like the type that gives up." Kennedy had seen too many strange things in the last couple days to believe they were out of the woods that easily. "Just keep moving, we gotta assume they're still after us…they may get us from the next on ramp…hurry Faith."

And so, the two slayers sped into the night, heading back to the Deering Motor Inn. They didn't stop, they never slowed, suspicious of every car that came close or passed them. They didn't speak; they kept a watchful eye on their course, ever ready to continue the chase of the vigilante. They didn't notice the sunrise as they drew closer to their destination. A new day was creeping its way into their lives even if they couldn't let go of the one that had almost been their last.

Faith was the first to see the exit sign for Santa Bruallo. The longer their journey, the more confident she was getting that they had survived the Truxdeiro. Upon seeing the sign, she became sure. "Look K, we're almost there…we made it…Red is sure gonna to be happy to see you," she said cheerfully. "And after she finds out what you did…she is gonna owe you big time, girl…" Faith laughed.

Kennedy laughed with her, smiling. Then the smile left and a look of dread took its place. The brunette was quiet for a while and then blurted out, "Stop the car, Faith." When the older slayer didn't respond she said it again, louder – "Faith, please stop the car." Looking at the brunette, confused, Faith pulled the car to the shoulder of the road, and stopped.

Kennedy tried to make sense with what was going through her head. "I'm supposed to be dead."

"Yeah…but you're not…and if you haven't figured it out…that's a good thing. You saved Willow and you're alive…Kennedy, that's called a happy ending." Faith couldn't believe the mood change in the brunette.

"I wasn't gonna have a happy ending." All it took was a moment of thinking how Willow would react to her return for her doubts of their relationship to come crashing back in, taking control. There was no epiphany from her experience, no gained inner knowledge that Willow really did love her. Everything that had happened to her since her arrival at La Founita was dismissed; she was the same conflicted girl as when she left. She wasn't gentle Willow's next great love, just a transition.

Faith could see Kennedy was serious. "What do ya mean?" She asked gingerly, not wanting to scare the brunette into silence. She had never seen this side of Kennedy, the insecure little girl.

Kennedy stared out the window. She was confused and scared, and she couldn't hold the pain inside any longer. Tears formed and she spoke so quietly, like a frightened child around strangers.

"Willow doesn't love me…I know that…I did what I did because I love her…I didn't do it so she'd owe me…I wasn't supposed to come back…" She felt her heart pounding. "I didn't expect to get anything from her." Kennedy turned to Faith. "What if she thinks she owes me something now…what if she feels she has to try to love me out of guilt?" She forced a laugh, "You know Will, she never wants to hurt anyone's feelings…Faith, I can't go through that." To Kennedy, false love out of pity or guilt would cut the same deep vein as hearing Willow tell her she didn't love her. That would be something the brunette couldn't pretend didn't exist. The girl squeezed her eyes shut and ordered herself to gain control. She had let too much show, knowing there was no Hollywood ending to this love story.

Faith said nothing at first, then smiled and finally laughed out loud. She looked at the brunette and said calmly, "You, have got your head up your ass." Kennedy jerked her head around to see the woman who had just insulted her deepest emotions.

"You think Red doesn't love you?...You're so off base, K…I know she does…I was there…I heard her." Faith's tone was getting more certain as she spoke. "When she was lying there, dying, there was only one thing she said that made sense…only one person she called for…that was you, kid…" Faith lowered her voice, "Kennedy…the only thing that Willow cared about, the only thing that made it out from whatever she was going through…was you…that's love, girl…and you're an idiot if you don't want to go back to that." Faith knew what she was saying was the truth. She knew the witch and the young slayer had found the real answer to life's trepidations. She sat there, not pushing, waiting for Kennedy to realize how lucky she really was. The wait didn't take long.

She heard the words – 'Hey Red…', saw her stand and it still took ages for Willow to realize, and believe, Kennedy was alive. The witch kept staring at her until it took hold in her brain. "You're alive!" she called out. Willow then threw herself at Kennedy, wrapping her arms around the girl's neck, holding onto her like she was hanging onto a life preserver on the rough open sea. "You're alive…" she said again softer as she burrowed her face into the brunette's neck. Kennedy, leaning back against the car, embraced the witch, holding her tight.

She and Faith quickly realized the older slayer's frantic call from the car must not have been received. "The stories of my death have been greatly exaggerated," Kennedy tried to joke, to ease the shock. When she felt tears on her neck, she choked up as emotion over took her. She whispered softly, "Willow …please don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry."

Willow leaned back from the embrace but not undoing it. "But how…how…" She was speechless from the surprise.

"It's a long story…let's just say we caught a break." Kennedy was too happy to delve back into the harrowing events of the night.

Willow wiped the tears from her eyes with one hand and then placed it gently on Kennedy's cheek. Emerald eyes captured brown, and she leaned in again, rejuvenated lips touching those of her slayer. Their lips barely touched at first, then the witch pressed for more contact, to confirm the reality before her. It was a soft, welcoming kiss. Willow moved her arm from around the brunette's neck, lowering it to her side, placing her hand onto the slayer's waist. Kennedy winced in pain.

The redhead gently but quickly stepped back, "Kenn…you're hurt…I'm sorry…what happened to you?" Concern filled the witch's voice.

"She broke a few ribs and her ankle," Faith said before the younger slayer could try to down play her injuries.

"I'm ok, Will…they're not hurting so much anymore." Kennedy looked her witch directly in the eyes to emphasize her statement and calm her girl's concerns. Her words were the truth. The terrible pain from the ankle and throbbing ache from the ribs had eased. Kennedy had noticed the change during the ride back to the motel. She could actually feel her bones mending. She smiled at the redhead, "Slayer healing…helluva thing." She knew seeing her witch again had also help to deaden the pain.

By this time, there had developed quite the gathering around the returning slayers. Buffy had gone to her room after she left Willow several hours earlier. She woke up Dawn and told her of Faith's impending return. Then she lay on her bed and quietly cried, for her fallen fellow slayer and for her witch. Xander had remained outside. He couldn't bring himself to continue the normal routine of life; he wanted to be there when Faith arrived, to show her his gratitude for her act of loyalty. Giles also made a path of remorse back to his room. He sat in his worn out chair by the window, the drapes still open, staring out into nowhere. He was exhausted, hungry, happy and sad. He kept staring; he couldn't bring himself to fall asleep.

When Xander saw the Altima approach the intersection that led to the motel, he ran to Buffy's room to inform her and Dawn of Faith's return; he then did the same with Giles. Xander knew his next stop had to be to Willow even though he wished he could have spared his friend the pain. They all gathered at the edge of the walkway by Willow's room and watched as the redhead made her way around the car to see the body of her slayer.

They were just as surprised and elated as Willow to see Kennedy emerge from the car alive. Buffy, Xander and Giles hurried and stood by Faith, patting her on the back and welcoming her home. They questioned her with quick looks and upraised eyebrows. But the reformed slayer was too interested in Kennedy's reunion with her witch to care to answer the stares. Dawn quickly ran and starting pounding on the doors of the other slayer's rooms and even went and woke up Andrew. In short shift, the rest of the new slayers had also made their way to the parking lot and were encircling the group. Andrew was the last to show, rubbing sleep from his eyes and still buttoning his shirt as he stumbled to join the group. Everyone had smiles and were shouting congratulatory remarks to Kennedy and Faith.

Seeing Kennedy's nervous face as she stood there now beside Willow, Giles was the first to realize that the homecoming was becoming overwhelming for the girl. Waving his hands in the air, he said commandingly, "Alright, everyone…please, they just returned…we need to give them some space…there'll be plenty of time for celebration later. Please return to your rooms or go get breakfast. Kennedy and Faith…and Willow need time to sort things out."

With that, the new slayers started to disperse, telling the two triumphant slayers "way to go" and "talk to ya later" before busily chattering amongst themselves about the newest development. Andrew was the last to leave, walking up to Kennedy and hugging her. She winced with the embrace and Willow had to tap him on the shoulder to make him stop. "I'm just so happy you're not dead," he said. Kennedy gave the witch a 'Don't ask me where this came from' look. Andrew started to walk away and almost embraced Faith, only stopping when he heard her declare, "Don't even think it."

With the crowd dispersing, Willow had the chance to really examine her slayer. "Oh, Kenn…baby, you need your ankle looked at…and I need to clean you up."

"I don't know what good cleaning up will do, these are the only clothes I have," she said as she grabbed at her blood stained shirt.

"No, wait…you're good on clothes…I got some for all you guys yesterday. I'll go get 'em and bring them to your room." Dawn then headed to get the clothes.

Buffy walked up to Kennedy and stared at her. She wanted to yell at the younger slayer for deceiving her, for being pig-headed and not trusting her with the plan. She wanted to lecture her about not doing foolish things. But she couldn't because she knew, had roles been reversed, she would have done the same for her friend. The brunette's punishment was a big embrace, "I am so happy you're alive, Kennedy." The younger slayer understood the interaction. She was no longer a foot soldier, but an equal to Buffy. She smiled back in affirmation.

Xander and then Giles also took their time to personally welcome Kennedy back with a gentle but heart felt hug. With his turn, Giles leaned in and quietly said in her ear, "You are a very brave woman."

Faith then cleared her throat and shoved her hands in her jeans' pockets. "I am starving…how 'bout I get my clothes from mini-B and someone buy me breakfast?"

"Yes, that's an excellent idea, Faith, " the watcher stated, "we can go to the restaurant next door and you can fill us in on your adventure."

"I'm coming too…Will, Kennedy – you want me to bring you back something?" Xander knew the couple needed time alone. Seeing Faith's emerging slayer hunger, he also knew the younger slayer would probably have the same affliction.

Willow looked questioning to Kennedy who responded, "I could eat." The deal was done. Everyone but Willow and Kennedy started to leave. Faith stopped when she felt Kennedy's hand on her arm. The two slayers looked at each other for a few moments. "Thank you." It was all that was needed to be said, all that could be said.

"Anytime, kid…" Faith replied awkwardly, then softer, "…remember what I told you." She pulled out of the grasp and went to walk away only to be pulled into a hug from Willow.

"Thank you so much, Faith…thank you." Startled by the affection shown by the witch, the ex-rogue slayer stood there not sure what to do. Genuine feeling was a new commodity and she was still uncomfortable with its affects on her, like an adolescent's first crush. She finally backed up and plainly said to the witch, "She was worth it." The slight raise in the corner of Willow's mouth let the slayer know she agreed.

As the crew once again tried to leave, a very bewildered and distressed motel manager came running up to them. "Ricky," Kennedy said with reserved optimism. His car had not faired so well in the night's events. Giles, aware of the arrangement made between the brunette and the young man, took charge and placed his arm around the manager's shoulder, turning him around before he even had a chance to utter a word.

"Young man…I understand we have some settling up to do with you…please if we could go back to your office, I'm sure we can straighten this out." He began to lead the man away, then turned his head and mouthed, 'I'll catch up with you.' Faith instantly ran up the watcher and whispered in his ear before heading to her pit stop for clothes. As Giles and Ricky walked away, the others could hear him ask, "So Ricky, what do you think about those new camera cell phones?"

Willow didn't wait for the others to leave the parking lot before she placed her arm around Kennedy's waist and helped to their room. The brunette still limped badly but could tell the ankle was definitely healing since she was at least now able to place some weight on it.

Kennedy was surprised by the condition of the room. The bed was still away from the wall, the candles in a circle on the floor. The curtains were closed and there were some loose pieces of paper on the floor. Kennedy saw that one of them was the spell she'd given Buffy.

"Love what you've done with the place," she joked as she took the witch's hand from her waist and hobbled around the room.

Willow looked a bit embarrassed. "Yeah, well…still not sure what happened here…you'll have to ask Xan or Buffy." Scanning the room, and knowing what Faith had told her about Willow's failing condition before the ritual, the brunette realized her witch had to have gone through a hellstorm. She had traveled to the edge of this world and back, something few people survive. She turned to the redhead and gently traced the back of her hand down the witch's arm.

Willow wanted to tell her slayer she was more than fine, she was perfect now that her brunette was back. She wanted to tell her that plus a thousand other things but knew from the tired look on the girl's face now was not the time.

With that said, Kennedy headed for the bathroom with Willow right beside her, helping her walk. The brunette looked at the bathtub and shower head. "I don't think I can do a shower…still a little too hard to stand for that long."

"That's ok, baby…I'll run you a nice hot bath…and help you with whatever you need." Willow had turned into a mother hen. She started to fill the tub while Kennedy tried to take off her clothes. Every time she lifted her arm or tried to move it back, Kennedy flinched, the pain evident on her face. Willow took an intermission from bath patrol to help her girl. "Let me get you outta those clothes," the words were sweet and innocently said and yet they still made the brunette's skin shiver.

As the clothes peeled off the slayer, Willow saw the numerous bruises on the brunette's back, stomach, legs and arms. They were everywhere. From their size and coloring, the redhead knew they had been severe. She saw the swollen, purple ankle that didn't look like it was in the latter stages of healing yet. Then her eyes spotted the cut on Kennedy's chest. She lightly traced her finger over it, and tears began to form.

Kennedy took Willow's hand and removed it from the wound. She stared intently into green eyes. "It's nothing, Will…probably won't even leave a scar." The brunette was still trying to hold back, not let Willow see the pain, unable to rid herself of that overcoat of detrimental self-reliance. She turned to get into the bathtub and, instinctively, Willow ended her wordless questioning and acquiesced, assisting her.

Once in the tub, the witch took the small washcloth and bar of soap and began to rid her slayer of the evidence of her heroic actions. She washed away the blood and dirt, being ever so gentle with her touches. Willow cleaned her hair, back and arms, and every other inch of skin before she came back to that spot, the mark. And again she grazed it with her finger tips. This time Willow had to know.

"What happened, Kenn…what did they do to you…" There was reserve in her voice, an implied knowledge that the answer would be frightening.

Brown eyes looked at the hand touching the wound, those elegant fingers the brunette thought she would never see again. She took them in her own hand. Then her eyes gazed upward to those of green. There was such compassion in them. Kennedy took in a deep breath. "It's from a knife…that they used in the…ritual…" The slayer told her witch of the night's events. But only a white washed version. She did not expose the whole truth for fear that guilt would enter the redhead's feelings for her. She briefly described the clearing and told the witch about the garments and dancing. The brunette was factually accurate, though very thin in detail, in her description of how she didn't die and ended up with the mark on her chest. "The old woman got in front of the knife. She died instead of me." She then went on to explain Faith's appearance leading to their eventual escape and return. "It was quite a night." She joked to cover her emotion. What she didn't tell the witch was how she thought only of her at the final moment, only of her to calm her soul. Kennedy could still not free herself from her self-made prison, still hearing Faith's proclamation but not truly believing it.

Willow kept staring at the wound; she was numb. Her mind couldn't grasp the enormity of the events or of Kennedy's actions. The graphic pictures in her mind of Kennedy being stabbed and beaten made the witch remember that this was the fear that she was afraid to face. She became overwhelmed. Her mind was empty of a worthy response to the epic she had just experienced.

"Baby…I'm so sorry…I…I don't know what to say…it was so terrible, what happened…" Kennedy knew that she had said too much, had besieged the redhead with the painful story. "It's alright, Will…it's over."

Willow gave her a sad smile. "I think there's another towel in the other room…for your hair." The redhead got up and walked out of the bathroom, almost closing the door behind her. She then walked around to the exterior side of the bathroom wall and leaned against it. She couldn't hold the emotions back; they pushed their way out. She held her hands to her face and began to cry, for all the pain her slayer went through for her. She tried desperately to quiet her sounds; she didn't want Kennedy to see her fall apart. For once, she wanted to be strong for the brunette.

On the other side of that wall, Kennedy heard the muted crying and that insidious little doubt that wouldn't leave told her that Faith was wrong and the sobs were the sound of Willow's guilt. She forcefully closed her eyes, tried to hold back the sadness and let her exhaustion take hold.

Willow's 'freak out' came to an abrupt end when she heard a knock at the door. She quickly wiped away tears, fixed her face as best she could and went over and opened it. Dawn came busting in, "Hey Will, sorry it took so long…got held up with Faith…" She walked over to the table beside the chair and placed a large, full plastic bag on it. "…she didn't like the clothes I got her…thought I was doing her a favor by expanding her wardrobe…besides it's not like leather pants are everywhere…" She finally stopped when she saw Willow's puffy red eyes. "Are you alright, Willow?"

"I'm fine Dawnie…just a lot of stuff for us to deal with…you have the clothes?...Kennedy's done with her bath." As much as Willow loved Dawn, she didn't feel up to the teenager's effervescent demeanor.

"Sure, it's all right here…I knew your size, so you're clothes should be fine…I wasn't so sure about Kennedy, so I got her some sweat pants and henley shirts…I hope that's ok."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. Thanks for doing all this, Dawn. It really helped a lot."

Dawn felt a bit of pride for being able to be of some service in this entire whirlwind. She could also see that she would be of further help if she left the two women alone. "Help's my middle name…so if you need anything, just ask…I'm going to go now." Before she left, she hugged her friend. "I'm so glad you're better…and that Kennedy's here." Then she was gone.

Willow went back to check on Kennedy and found her sleeping. 'You look so peaceful.' She walked back to the table, took out the clothes and proceeded to change. She cleaned up the room and moved the bed. Then she went back to the brunette. "Kenn, baby…wake up," she softly said touching her shoulder. The brunette slowly left sleep behind, her mind moving toward the subtle touch and fae like sound.

"Nothing to be sorry for…but I think we should get you outta here…starting to look raisinesque."

So Willow helped Kennedy out of the bath and got her clothes while the brunette dried herself off. After the new, clean twig-free clothes were put on, Willow directed Kennedy over to the bed, watching her limp the whole way. Kennedy noticed the candles were also gone.

Willow motioned Kennedy to sit at the head of the bed. She then sat on the bed by the brunette's feet. She picked up Kennedy's left foot by lifting her leg above the bad ankle. Kennedy winced with the movement.

"The ankle…actually the ribs aren't bad…I think the ankle only is because I keep walking on it." The patient replied.

"Well, I can help you with that…if you want…" Willow wasn't sure how receptive the brunette would be to her coming suggestion. "…I can do sort of a meditation thingy…it takes energy from me and all over..and helps you heal faster."

The witch chuckled back. "Well…less with the cosmic shifting and more with the Eastern medicine philosophy…done it before…no essence sucking anywhere, promise."

"The goodest…I just want you to be ok with it…I know you're not a big follower of the magick stuff."

Kennedy smiled, "Oh,yeah…about that?...I was an idiot…big believer now. So if you're good, I'm good."

Willow leaned up and gave her slayer a soft kiss. "Ok…lie back, close your eyes and relax. This isn't a foot massage, but it's the next best thing."

Kennedy did as she was told and within minutes began to feel a warm sensation radiating throughout her ankle and into her foot. A calm relaxed state seeped into her with every touch, every press by Willow. Soon her mind was drifting and she followed it to sleep.

Willow had been working on mending the brunette's broken ankle when she felt the tension leave her girl's body. She actually felt an emotional mass of stress and worry drain from her. In its place was peaceful, quiet sleep for the slayer. After her meditation was complete and the ankle restored, Willow slowly got off the bed, so as not to wake the brunette, and sat in the chair by the window.

The need for self interrogation that had pursued Kennedy while in that chair now made Willow its next victim. The redhead sat there looking at the angelic figure in the bed, amazed at the courage of the woman. She knew that Kennedy had acted out of love for her. She also knew that love had to be overpowering to allow her to accept the executioner's price. 'Why didn't I feel that?' she wondered. 'Why didn't I know she was still alive?' Willow tried to put her mind around it. She had no answers, only more questions. 'Does that say something about me?'

The witch's trip into the land of self doubt was cut short by a knock on the door. She quickly went to answer it, not wanting her resting slayer to be disturbed. It was Xander holding a paper bag from which Willow could smell the wafting aroma of eggs and pancakes. "Come on in Xan," she said taking the bag from him. She placed it on the small table. Xander saw Kennedy sleeping.

"Was wondering when the fuel tank would hit empty." Then he looked at his friend. "You should eat some food and then rest, too…you must be exhausted after everything's that happened."

"No, not sleepy." The way the redhead said the words made Xander know there was something brewing in the witch's head.

"Will…what's wrong?...come on, I know you too well…and I know something's up."

Willow had to admit her childhood friend really could see right through her. An expression of uncertainty came over her face. "Can we go outside…I don't want to wake Kenn." Xander nodded, intrigued with Willow's sudden change in demeanor. They quietly went outside, closing the door behind them.

"Why didn't I know that Kennedy was still alive? I shoulda known…I should have felt her."

Relieved, Xander smiled at his friend. "Is that what this is about? You're freaked out because your witchy radar malfunctioned?" Willow went to answer but was cut off. "Willow, if you haven't figured it out yet…you were dying…that big unknown god in the sky was messing with your mojo…how could you expect to be working full throttle." The redhead gave a small nod of approval. "Give yourself a break Will…I'm sure everything'll be normal again. Then you'll be back to sensing life forces with the best of 'em." The speech ended on a confident note.

"Maybe you're right…it just seems that with the energy that Kennedy was putting out, it shoulda got back to me."

"Ya know Will…maybe it was there and you just didn't recognize it through everything that was happening to you…I mean, your thing with Kennedy is new…maybe the signs are different than what you had in the past." Willow knew he meant her connection with Tara. She thought about his proposition.

"Yeah, maybe that's it…I hope it is." There was reserved optimism in her voice.

"She told me about it…how the old lady got stabbed instead of her." Willow quickly recounted Kennedy's version. Xander looked confused. "Why isn't that how it happened?" Now Willow had the confused look. "Not exactly," he stammered. Xander then proceeded to tell Willow the story that Faith told at the restaurant, deep in detail and horror. When he finished, the redhead looked as if she were going to faint.

"Maybe she's scared how you'd take it…you know Kennedy…she doesn't want anyone feeling sorry for her."

"But I don't…I'm proud of her…amazed with her…" then after hesitation, "…I love her."

"Does she know that?" Xander hit the mark. He saw Willow's resigned expression. "…maybe she should, Will."

The witch stared at nothing for awhile, then at Xander. She put her arms around her best friend. "Even with one eye, you still see perfectly." Xander smiled and withdrew from the embrace. "I'm gonna leave now…I think you've got unfinished business to attend to." He walked away, while Willow went back into the room.

She watched Kennedy still peacefully sleeping. Willow thought about the dramatic changes in her life since that girl entered it only five months before, the transformation that had occurred only because of the brunette. Despite the inviting aroma of pancakes, there was only one thing the redhead wanted and needed at that moment. She went to the bed and lay on her side next to Kennedy, snuggling her head into the crook of the brunette's shoulder. She draped her arm over the slayer's stomach and nestled as close as she could. She could feel the warmth from the girl and that sense of safety came flooding back, showering over the redhead. She knew she had found a new home. Willow fell asleep knowing that she would soon tell her slayer everything that was in her heart.

Buffy, Faith and Giles walked back from the restaurant, meeting Xander not far from where he had his heart to heart with Willow. "Hey Xan…how'd the food go over?" Pancakes were Buffy's idea.

"I'm sure fine…Kennedy was sleeping…but you slayers, I'm sure the smell will wake her up."

Giles was the first to respond. "We need transportation and some of the girls need to get back to their homes. I suggest we have a meeting."

"Yeah Giles, chill…wheels and home for the powder puff slayers doesn't take an act of Congress. Have Dawn help ya. She's become Ms. Command central." Faith didn't want to sit in on some boring meeting; she had other plans.

Before Giles could leave, Faith blurted, "Yo, Giles…I'm gonna go to the hospital to see how Robin's doing. Can I have cab fare?" Everyone could tell by Faith's words and tone that she wanted to go, no longer was she hiding behind nonchalant bravado. "He's probably been watching soap operas this whole time. Wait'll he hears this story." Giles walked up to the ex-rogue slayer. "Of course I'll give you cab fare, it's the least you deserve." As they walked away, Buffy and Xander could hear Faith say, "Can you believe Kennedy knows Spanish?"

There the two remaining stood, both staring at Willow's and Kennedy's room. "Do you think they''ll come out today?"

"Not likely, " Buffy said devilishly, "…couldn't blame them for wanting to be alone."

"I sure hope so, Xander…I sure hope so." Buffy said smiling. "Come on, let's go see Dawn drive Giles crazy." And the two strolled off.

Kennedy slowly stirred, washing away the sleep. She blinked her eyes, for a second forgetting about the Truxdeiro and her close call with death. Then it all came back, but just the memories, not the pain. She felt much better; neither her ribs nor ankle pained her. She wiggled around to test the extent of her recovery. Other than her muscles feeling a bit tight, she had no residual affect. She felt the redhead in her arms and any lingering pain waiting to appear vanished. She kissed the top of her witch's head. Willow gently woke up.

"Hey beautiful…your meditation really worked, I was out like a light…and the ankle's all better." She kissed her witch's head again.

"Mmm…glad I could be of service…I must have been more tired than I thought…I laid down just to snuggle…what time is it?" Kennedy glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "Quarter after one...and I don't know about you, but I feel great."

Kennedy turned on her side and propped her head up with one arm and placed the other around Willow's waist. "You know…I never did get to properly say hello when I got back." The brunette then leaned in and captured the witch's lips with her own. This was not a chaste kiss, but one filled with desire, yearning from too much time passed between real contact. Their mouths opened and tongues rediscovered; Willow once again amazed with the sensation to her body from her brunette's tongue stud. The kiss grew more immediate, their passion quickly rising. Willow's fingers began a slow journey on the golden skin of Kennedy's arm, tracing up from her slayer's fingertips and ending with caressing touches of her skin hidden underneath her shirt sleeve. The witch's hand didn't stop there. It continued its holiday by glancing over cloth, working down the brunette's shoulder, barely grazing the side of her breast and coming to rest on the bare skin of Kennedy's stomach, exposed between shirt and pants.

Willow's performance brought shivers to the slayer. She deepened her kiss on the redhead. But Kennedy was not satisfied with the kiss alone. Her need to touch the witch overwhelmed her. She shifted her weight and soon had the witch in her arms. Her tanned hands pressed against her witch's back, caressing down to the small of her back then under her blouse and back up to the delicate curvature of her shoulder blades. The hands skillfully meandered back down again, fingertips tracing along the alabaster skin that met with the band of the redhead's pants. Kennedy's fingertips felt pure joy. Willow let out a soft moan, "Mmm…" Kennedy broke from her kiss and lips then kissed their way down Willow's delicate jaw line, across the redhead's neck up to her ear. Her tongue playfully searched there, sending a tingling sensation down the witch's spine. The slayer whispered softly, "I thought I'd never touch you again." Kennedy was lost in Willow; she wanted to be lost, needed to be.

Willow was being swept away by her physical necessity for connection with the brunette. She felt Kennedy's desire. The redhead knew she had to tell Kennedy her feelings. But she knew she had to get through to Kennedy, had to break down the barriers that the girl had built. She wanted Kennedy to let her in. So she caged her physical desire and pulled back from Kennedy's embrace, sitting up facing the girl.

With uneven breath, "Kenn…baby…I thought I'd lost you, too…what you did for me…"

Kennedy, who sat up also, struggling to will her body and breath back under control, interrupted her, "Will…we've been over that…"

This was Willow's chance, her window to Kennedy's inner heart. "But you didn't tell me everything…Xander told me what Faith said…about the altar…the dagger…you almost dying…for me."

"Only because of the old woman…because she chose to die…like you…" Kennedy's eyes had diverted away from Willow. The brunette felt she was getting dangerously close to her true emotions for Willow bubbling over into spoken recognition.

Willow placed her hand on Kennedy's cheek and brought brown eyes back to those of green. "Why would you give up being a slayer…your destiny…you shouldn't have…" Green eyes burned into the slayer.

Kennedy was motionless, her mind churning for an answer. She wanted to just yell out to her witch that she loved her, that she was the reason for everything she did. But years of distance, of letting no one in, nagged at her, telling her that honesty would beget honesty, meaning Willow's feeling of guilt over her actions would surface. The brunette battled with her inner demon; she didn't want it to win this time. She told herself the doubt was wrong, that for once she had to walk out on the tight rope and risk falling. She told herself that after all that had happened, she deserved a chance to be loved, needed. She took the step.

"Of course I should have…I had to do it, Will…I-I…" Her heart was pounding; she took in a breath, and then said easily, "…I love you, Willow Rosenberg…I love you…" Kennedy embraced the witch, hiding her face in the redhead's neck, repeating those three powerful, little words, "I love you…" over and over, softer each time until the words were replaced with crying.

Willow was filled with love for the woman, for the fragile girl in her arms, naked to the world. She had to let the brunette know she wasn't alone anymore; she didn't have to carry the weight of her world by herself any longer. "Kenn…"

Kennedy pulled out of the embrace quickly. "Willow…you don't owe me anything for…" This time it was Willow who interrupted. She leaned in and kissed the slayer gently.

"Kennedy…you saved my life, and nothing could repay that…I wouldn't even know where to start…I'll always be thankful…But you're right, I don't owe you anything…" she hesitated for a moment, "…I owe that old woman who died for you…If it wasn't for her…" Willow then smiled, "…I wouldn't be here looking at the woman I love…"

Kennedy thought her ears deceived her at first, then she saw that beautiful smile and knew Faith had been right. Doubt ran away with its tail between its legs. She kept gazing at her witch.

"Kenn…baby…I love you…you kept me going…I didn't give up…I came back …because of you…for you." Willow didn't hold back. "I love you…I love your strength, your loyalty and bravery…I love that you're funny and smart and beautiful…" Willow cupped Kennedy's face with both hands , "…I need you, Kennedy." Willow knew she truly loved the brunette, and like all great loves, it would only grow stronger and deeper with time. "I should have told you before, but I was scared...I was…"

Kennedy stopped the Willowbabble with a kiss. "You love me…that's all I need to know." Her voice was full of hope. She took Willow in for another kiss, the intensity growing.

The two women quickly found their passion on the rise again, their spoken pledges stoking their desire. Kennedy eased Willow back down onto the bed. Once again, hands roamed and tongues battled for dominance. Kennedy couldn't stop kissing her redhead – 'her' redhead in every sense of the word.

In between kisses, Willow fought for speech. "Kenne…what's your middle name?" Kennedy kept at the onslaught of kisses on Willow's neck and shoulder. In between breaths, "Francesca," softly spoken. Willow thought the name as beautiful as the one who wore it. The gentle kisses continued. "Baby…when's your birthday?" The witch asked on the verge of losing herself to the touches.

Kennedy stopped and looked at the redhead, answering inquisitively, "June twenty-ninth, why?"

Willow merely smiled, "Don't you think your girlfriend should know things like that…besides I need to know when to get you a present…" Willow said the last words as she shifted her weight and brought the slayer underneath her. The redhead then kissed Kennedy's neck, planting soft, delicate kisses that sent quivers through the slayer. Willow continued her southern descent down from her neck, pushing the unbuttoned collar of Kennedy's shirt back, exposing perfect bronzed skin. She grazed her lips below the brunette's neck, then migrated further still. Lips stopped when they felt the small scar. Willow opened her eyes and looked at the tiny scar, the permanent reminder of Kennedy's sacrifice for her. She kissed it gently.

"Anything special you want for your birthday…baby." It was said more for seduction than conversation.

Kennedy embraced Willow and brought the witch up to her, chocolate eyes to emerald. "If I have you…that's all the present I need."

Willow looked intensely into her slayer's eyes. "You have me…" she said gently and with conviction.

The witch and the slayer came together in a passionate kiss, feeling the shared emotion rush over them…feeling their future together begin.

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The Sacrifice

by LilBit

Copyright © 2005

Epallen@tampabay.rr.com