Chapter 8

The sound of the stove buzzer caused Willow to jump in surprise. "Oh. Oh, crap, no." She leapt up from the stool she was sitting on at the countertop and darted over to the stove, sliding her hands in the oven mitts on her way over. "Please don't be burnt. Please don't be burnt. Please don't be burnt."

She opened the oven and, ignoring the blast of heat on her face, peered in before beginning to pull the tray off the rack. "Yes. Not burnt," she cheered as she lifted the tray of cookies out of the oven and onto the stovetop. They looked crispy and golden, with the little raisins peeking out. Perfect.

Using the lifter, Willow began the careful task of moving the cookies onto a plate on the counter to cool. "No," her face fell when she saw the state of the underside of the cookies, "Burnt."

She sighed heavily, but continued to move the cookies onto the plate. Someone would eat them. She was in a house full of constantly hungry teenager girls. Willow knew that a few scorch marks on the bottom wouldn't be enough to scare them off. Even if they were burnt so badly they were black, she was sure at least some of the girls would consider eating them. The variety of food they had in the house seemed to wax and wane depending on when someone managed to go shopping, so it was often a 'take what you can get' sort of situation.

Why am I even doing this? The witch wondered idly, looking down at her less than spectacular creations. We have a threat of immanent doom, and I'm making cookies. Pathetic. Willow, you are pathetic.

Buffy and the others had left a little over half an hour ago, heading off to the church to see what this Caleb guy was hiding. They had a plan – a weak one, but it was better than nothing – and hopefully would return without any injuries. In the meanwhile, she, Giles, and Anya were looking after Andrew, Dawn, and the remaining eight Potentials.

I'm nervous, Willow thought, looking down at her shaking hands as she moved the last of the cookies onto the platter. I'm freaked out because Buffy, Faith and Xander are out there facing Goddess knows what, and I'm here, supposedly Buffy's strongest weapon, ready to protect the girls in case something attacks the house. And at the moment my only weapon seems to be cookies. That I burnt. Because I can't do anything.

It was only late evening, but Willow had already had three cups of coffee. And once Dawn had insisted the redhead was too jumpy and had had enough, Willow had turned her attention elsewhere, trying to distract herself. She had wondered around the house for a while, trying to find something useful to do, until Anya had gone off at her about how her pacing was rather disquieting and could she please stop?

Willow wasn't sure how she ended up baking cookies. It just sort of happened. One minute she was walking into the kitchen, forlorn look on her face, the next there was an open container of cookie dough in her hand, ready to be moulded.

While the cookies had been in the oven, Willow had been reading the book Fred had given her in L.A. It had a fair amount of information on Hellmouths that would have been useful years ago when they were just discovering what lay underneath Sunnydale, but it contained nothing that would be all that useful at the present moment. Willow figured she'd give it to Giles when she was finished with it, and he'd put it somewhere for safekeeping like he did with all the books he'd collected over the years.

She heard the sound of socked feet trying and failing to be stealthy as they crept down the hall. Seconds later Willow heard an excited squeal, "Oh, look, I was right!"

"Food! You made more food!"

"It smells good."

"Can we have some?"

Willow turned to look at the two Potentials who had burst into the kitchen, limbs tangling with each other as they struggled to be first into the room. Holding back a confused smile, Willow said, "You guys are like hornets, you know. I just took them out."

"We know," one of the girls replied. She was about Dawn's height, with short, blonde hair. Willow was pretty sure this was Holly.

"We could smell them baking, but didn't want to come down until you had them out of the oven," the other girl continued. This one was shorter and thinner, with white-blonde hair. They looked alike, but Willow was fairly certain this one, the one with the lighter hair, was Kelly.

They looked alike, and their names sounded alike, and they had arrived within days of each other. Of all the girls in the house, these two were the only ones she couldn't remember the names of, and only because she didn't know which name went with which face.

"Last time, when Andrew was baking, we all got yelled at for being in the kitchen. He threatened to throw stuff at us."

"Yeah, he's a bit of a pain," Kelly agreed, rolling her eyes.

I think that one's Kelly. Or is she Holly? Oh, why do their names have to be so similar? Why do they have to look so similar?

"They're a little burnt," Willow said, offering the plate to the girls. There wasn't much point in denying them the cookies, they'd find a way to eat them with or without her permission. "And they're probably still hot. Don't burn your mouths."

"'S'alright," Holly said, taking one. "Mmmm, oatmeal-ey."

"Whatcha doin' in here anyways?" Kelly asked as she took a cookie off the plate and sat down at the bar counter. Holly followed suit as Willow leaned back against the counter next to the stove.

"Aren't you supposed to, ya know, be doing witchy stuff to keep us safe?"

Willow grimaced. "I've got a small magical ward up around the house, but I…" she let the sentence hang there, unsure whether to go into the details with them or not.

But I don't want to do anything too big. I don't want to lose control, and I don't want to drain myself in case something does show up.

Those weren't exactly the things she should be telling the girls though, Willow knew this. They were all looking to her and the other Scoobies to protect them. Letting them know she was too afraid to do just that, what she needed to protect them, was not what they needed to hear.

"But I don't think you have anything to be worried about," she finished lamely, forcing a smile.

Why did I have to stay here? Not that I'd be any help at the church, but why did Buffy have to say that, that I was the one going to protect everyone here? Why couldn't she just say the other girls would be safe here with Anya, Giles and I? Why did she have to single me out?

I'm not powerful, not any more. Now I'm just uncontrolled and scared; two things that should not be used in the same sentence when talking about magic.

She took a slow breath in and out, trying to calm her nerves. She had nothing to worry about. Everything would be fine. Nothing bad was going to happen at the church, and nothing bad was going to happen at the house. Buffy and Faith would keep them all safe.

Buffy and Faith. Willow was glad they were working together. Somewhat reluctantly on Buffy's part, but no one was getting stabby, so that was good. She was worried that Buffy would be reluctant to have Faith back in the fold, but she seemed to understand that Faith wasn't here to pick fights or rehash old wounds.

Most of the Scoobies seemed to be taking it pretty well, the Faith being back thing. Faith and Xander were getting along just fine, but the witch expected that. The two of them always seemed to get along. They had their little… thing before, the sleeping together, but there seemed to be no lingering tension between them now. Willow figured most of that was Xander's doing. He was really good at seeing things from other people's points of view and making everyone feel welcomed.

Giles seemed okay with Faith being back, but Giles was always good at being professional and being understanding of what was really going on. Anya not so much; Anya was good at holding grudges and was hesitant to trust old foes.

And then Dawn. Dawn just glared whenever the brunette was in the room.

Not nice.

Willow was glad Faith was here to stay. She felt… safe around the brunette. She felt like she could confide in her, as weird a thought as that was. But it was true. She and Faith shared something now, something that brought them closer. It may not be the most conventional thing to share, the darkness, the evil, that they'd both spilled human blood, but the bond was there nonetheless, and Willow liked that.

She trusted the stubborn Slayer. Trusted Faith to help Buffy protect them all, to keep everyone safe from whatever The First threw at them.

Willow knew she'd feel a lot better at the present moment if Faith were here with her instead of with Buffy, but there was nothing she could really do about that right now.

"…and that's why I'm not allowed to bake cookies. It was bad. Real bad. But I mean, no one actually died, right? So that's good. But yeah, no baking for me for a long time."

Willow blinked repeatedly as she was pulled back into the conversation, looking between the two blondes sitting across from her. She'd zoned out again.

I keep doing that. Focus, Will. Now isn't really the time for daydreaming.

"Sorry," Willow started, blushing in embarrassment, "I didn't quite catch-"

She stopped herself short when she caught site of four heads suddenly appearing in the kitchen doorway. All of their faces had wide eyes and cheesy smiles, as if hoping they didn't have to beg with words and their pleading looks would be enough for her to feed them.

"Go ahead," Willow laughed, shaking her head at them all.

The group trampled over to the counter and Willow jumped up and out of the way, keeping clear of their grabby hands as they fought over who got what cookie off the plate. If she didn't know any better she'd wonder if they'd eaten in days, what with how excited they were at the sight of food.

"Sorry Willow, I tried to hold them off," Anya said, following the girls into the room and stopping to stand next to her.

"It's okay," Willow smiled. "I'm surprised these lasted as long as they did."

"We could smell them in the other room," Anya explained. "But I convinced them all to wait until the show was over before they attacked your newly made cookies," she glanced at the slowly shrinking pile. "All of which look lumpy and burnt by the way."

"Uh, thanks."

Anya nodded happily.

"What were you watching?" the one Willow was pretty sure was Kelly asked, stuffing another cookie into her mouth.

These will so be gone before the others get back. There's no question. A whole batch of cookies, gone in sixty seconds.

"Jeopardy," Anya replied. "I was criticizing the host. His questions about the French Revolution were terribly inaccurate."

"You some sort of history buff?" Colleen, a girl from New York with wavy brown hair and doe-eyes asked.

"Well, no," Anya began, smiling at the girl, happy to explain. "I'm a former vengeance demon," she stated matter-of-factly.

That earned her a few strange looks.

When were they going to learn that nothing in this house was remotely normal? Nothing in this town was remotely normal. They were being hunted by a demon that couldn't touch them. And Anya being a demon was what threw them?

"I thought we were here to kill demons. I thought that's what the Slayer is supposed to do," a Hispanic girl with curly brown hair asked.

Oh no, Willow groaned internally, already knowing Anya was going to lecture the girl, here we go.