Slouching Towards Bethlehem
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Dreams and Visions:
Buffy fell asleep lying next to Faith. As darkness enveloped her, she began to dream. She was lying in bed, the same bed her body was actually resting on, and sunlight was streaming in through the window. The alarm clock next to her read nine o'clock. She felt completely rested. As a Slayer, worries constantly hung over her. She feared for her friends, she feared for the world, and she feared for herself. But the dark clouds of responsibility had lifted. Her mind was entirely blank of anxiety. The sheets felt soft against her skin. The blankets piled on top of her were warm, but not stifling. She didn't feel like moving at all. In fact, she may not have, had the delicious aroma of pancakes wafting through the open door not roused her from her comfortable state. Her stomach growled and she flipped the covers off of her body.
Padding down the hallway in her bare feet, she marveled at how empty the house seemed. She couldn't hear any Potential Slayers arguing; the television wasn't turned on; the shower wasn't running. Sunlight poured in through every window, illuminating the house in a bright, golden glow. She reached the top of the stairs and followed her nose. "Dawn must be cooking," she mumbled to herself as she descended the stairs and turned toward the kitchen. Pushing open the door, she stopped suddenly, confused at what she saw. Faith was standing in front of the stove with a spatula in her hand. A little boy sat at the kitchen island, his legs dangling from the stool. His eyes followed Faith as she moved around the kitchen. A glass of orange juice with a curly, green straw stuck in it sat in front of him.
"Almost ready, little J," Faith said, her Boston accent nearly as thick as the day Buffy had first met her. She was wearing a white tank top that showed off the muscles of her arms. The tattoo encircling her arm danced with the muscles underneath as she flipped two of the pancakes and put them on a plate. Her shirt rode up a little and Buffy's eyes instantly traveled down to where the former rogue Slayer's scar should have been. But it was gone.
"Can I have a smiley face today?" The boy asked, kicking his legs against the stool as he spoke.
"Regular or strawberry?" Faith asked, turning around with two containers of syrup in her hands. Her eyes met Buffy's and she smiled.
"Strawberry," he said excitedly. Faith nodded and squeezed two smiley faces of strawberry syrup onto the pancakes on the plate.
"Two smiley faced pancakes, coming right up," she said. "Morning, B," she added, sliding the plate in front of the boy and moving around the island toward the blonde Slayer. Wrapping her arm around Buffy's waist, she gave her a lingering kiss. "You slept late."
"I did?" Buffy asked. Her eyes drifted back to the boy, who was digging into the pancakes. She wanted to ask dream Faith who he was, but she didn't want to look stupid. It was her dream after all.
"Yeah, you're usually up by now," Faith said. "Feeling okay?"
"Yeah," Buffy replied.
"Pancakes?" Faith asked, moving back over to the stove.
"Sure," Buffy replied. She watched Faith pour the batter into the pan and then moved over to the island and sat down next to the boy.
"Can you pour me some more juice, Mommy?" The boy asked. Buffy looked over at him and then over at Faith.
Faith raised an eyebrow at her and said, "I think he's talking to you, B."
"Oh," Buffy said in surprise. "Right." Picking up a container of juice, she poured it into his glass. When she was done, she looked closely at him. His hair was light blonde, like her own. But his eyes were dark and smoky, like Faith's. He smiled at her, revealing his dimples.
"You sure you're okay, B?" Faith asked.
Buffy smiled and looked back at her. They were a family. In her dream, they were a family. "Yeah," she replied honestly. "I'm great."
She heard footsteps in the hallway outside of the kitchen. Turning, she saw Kennedy and Willow walk in. "Hey," Kennedy said. "Will used the key, I hope that's okay."
"That's why we gave it to you," Faith shot back, smiling playfully at the other brunette.
"Hey Jake," Kennedy said, moving over to the boy. "How's my big man this morning?"
"Mommy made pancakes," he said, stuffing the last forkful into his mouth.
"I think that's all your Mommy knows how to make," Willow joked.
"Hey," Faith said, "I'm working on eggs."
"How's that going?" Kennedy asked.
"I wouldn't try eating them yet," Faith said. "Give me another week."
"Uh huh," Willow replied. "We'll clean up in here. You guys should go."
"Yeah," Faith agreed, "you ready, B?"
"We'll take good care of Jake," Kennedy said, ruffling his hair. "Don't worry about a thing."
"Never do," Faith replied. "Come on, B," she said, leading Buffy out of the kitchen.
"Where are we going?" Buffy asked. "I thought I was getting pancakes."
"You kinda overslept," Faith said. "I don't want us to be late. She can be a little impatient."
"Who?" Buffy asked.
Faith looked back at her, puzzled. "You know," she replied. "Are you sure you're okay this morning?" She asked when they reached the front door.
"I'm fine," Buffy said. Faith yanked the door open and Buffy took a step back, covering her eyes. The sunlight raced in, nearly blinding her.
"Come on," Faith said, taking Buffy by the hand and pulling her through the doorway.
Instead of hitting the wood of her front porch, her feet hit sand. Lowering her hand, she saw a desert spread out before her. In every direction, she saw only sand. Her house was in the middle of it all. The sun seemed to be hovering over them, baking everything in its sight. Beads of sweat started to roll down her back. "What the hell," she mumbled to herself. She felt Faith let go of her hand. The dark haired Slayer turned around and smirked at her.
"Something like that," she said. Buffy's eyes moved passed Faith to the figure standing in the distance. It was a woman. She was wearing a white dress and her blonde hair was blowing slightly in the breeze.
"Tara," Buffy whispered, her eyes widening in disbelief.
Faith grabbed her hand again and started pulling her along as she said, "Off to see the wizard."
Buffy awoke slowly and confusedly. The bedroom was dark. She could feel Faith lying beside her, breathing raggedly, but breathing. The shades were drawn over the window. She couldn't tell if it was night or day. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up. Her muscles felt sore. She glanced down at Faith and sighed. "Everything's gonna be okay," she said, though half-heartedly. She didn't know what to believe anymore. She had always felt so confident about her decisions. She was a Slayer; she knew what to do. But this time, she hadn't. This time, she had led her people into a trap. More of them had died than she cared to count. It was her fault. She was death. The Slayer was death. She had been told that time and again and she didn't want to believe it, but she knew it was true. She brought nothing but misery and pain to everyone she knew.
Getting out of bed, she moved over to the mirror above the dresser. She looked at herself long and hard in the glass, examining every feature. She looked older. She looked older than she had even that very morning. The weight of her responsibilities was starting to catch up to her. She wasn't a teenager anymore. She wasn't that kid that had fallen in love with Angel all those years ago. But she didn't feel very much like an adult either. She felt lost. She had ever since her mother died. Images from her dream flooded her mind again and she saw the face of that little boy. He had so much love and trust in his eyes. She wondered if what she had seen in her dream would ever come true. Looking back at Faith, she wondered if they could ever be a family.
…………………………
Kennedy awoke from her nap with Willow in her arms. Raising an eyebrow, she noted that Willow was naked in her arms. The events of the day raced through her mind. Caleb was dead, she was a Slayer, Faith was still alive, and she and Willow had finally had sex. The red haired witch was still asleep. Kennedy watched her chest rise and fall. A gentle smile was on her face. She looked happy and content. She knew that Willow had been stressed out, not only over Kennedy's injuries, but over the First and her own magics. That Willow looked so calm now made Kennedy smile. Sighing, she closed her eyes again and let her mind wander. At first, her mind was blank, a sea of blackness. But then images began to pop in front of her closed eyes.
She saw the knife sliding into her stomach. For a moment, she felt the pain flare up again, but that too subsided. She saw Caleb's body slump to the ground. She saw Dawn staring at her in wonder. She saw torches and a tunnel and wine casks and a weapon gleaming in fire light. Her eyes shot open. She had forgotten all about her vision. When Caleb stabbed her, images had flashed before her mind of that very same weapon. She knew she had to talk to someone about it. Slowly disentangling herself from Willow, she slipped on her pants and bra. However, her shirt had been sliced open and stained with blood. Moving over to her bag, she grabbed a tank top and threw it on. Then moving back to the bed, she fixed the covers around Willow and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll just be downstairs," she whispered to the sleeping witch.
Stepping out into the hallway, she quietly closed the door behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked out of the window at the end of the hall and saw that night had fallen. She could see the bloated moon through the window. The house seemed quiet, but she could hear the television downstairs. The smell of green peppers and onions sautéing on the stove greeted her as she moved down the hallway toward the stairs. Two Potentials came up the stairs and walked by her. They had been laughing, but as they passed Kennedy, they stopped. Lowering their gazes a little, they stepped aside respectfully and allowed her to pass. Kennedy looked at them confusedly before it suddenly dawned on her. She wasn't one of them anymore. She wasn't a Potential Slayer. She was a Slayer now, an authority figure, someone whom they were supposed to respect, just like Buffy and Faith. She paused at the top of the stairs, this new revelation momentarily stunning her. There had only been so many Slayers throughout history. She was one of them now. Her name would always be remembered. No matter what she accomplished, how much or how little, someone somewhere would always know who she was, who she had been.
Shaking away her thoughts, she continued down the stairs until she reached the landing. Most of the Potentials were packed into the living room, watching a repeat of CSI. Normally, she would have gone in and flopped down on the couch, watched it with them, laughed with them, joked with them, and talked with them. Now, however, she hesitated. Her going into that room would be like an adult wandering around to chaperone a high school party. The girls would all get as quiet as the girls she had passed on the stairs. The jokes would stop. They would be waiting. They would be waiting for Kennedy to tell them to do something, to order them to go somewhere, or to remind them that they had more important things to do than sit around and watch reruns of television shows.
Turning away from the living room, she looked into the dining room and saw Giles, Dawn, and Xander sitting at the table. They had books piled around them. Giles was writing on a large dry erase board in some language Kennedy had never seen and probably would never learn to read. Walking over to the doorway, she lingered for a moment, listening to Giles lecture to his two pupils before she cleared her throat. Giles looked over at her and smiled. "Ah, Kennedy," he said, putting the cap back on his marker. "You're up. How are you feeling?"
"Good," Kennedy replied nonchalantly.
"Excellent," Giles said. "And your stomach?"
"It hurts a little," she replied. "But not that much."
"Where's Willow?" Xander asked.
"She's asleep upstairs," Kennedy replied. Xander smirked. She glared pointedly over at him and he shrugged.
"I was just trying to teach Xander and Dawn the finer points of Ak'Taru, a demon language popular with vampiric tribes coming out of the Middle East and Asia," Giles explained.
"We weren't doing so well," Xander said, rubbing his eyes.
"Speak for yourself," Dawn shot back. "I got at least a third of it."
"I got at least one out of twenty words," Xander joked.
"It's a complicated language," Giles said. "Not everyone can master it. Besides," he added, "there's more to being a Watcher than learning demon languages. Every Watcher has his or her own style."
"Giles," Kennedy interrupted, "can I talk to you for a minute?"
"Please, sit," Giles instructed, pointing to one of the dining room chairs. Kennedy moved into the room and sat. "What's on your mind?" He asked, sitting down as well.
Kennedy sighed. "I had another vision when Caleb stabbed me," she replied.
"I see," Giles said, taking off his glasses and slowly rubbing them on his shirt. "Of what?" He asked.
"I'm not really sure," Kennedy said. "I saw all of these barrels of wine lying around. And then a tunnel lined with torches. There was a room at the end of the tunnel and inside of it was this weapon laying on what looked like some kind of altar."
"What did the weapon look like?" Dawn asked as she and Xander pulled out notepads and pens and waited to jot down her description.
"I didn't see it for very long," Kennedy answered apologetically, "but it was long, like three or four feet. At one end was a metal blade. The other end was wooden and it was carved into a stake."
"Doesn't sound familiar," Xander said as he finished writing.
"No, it doesn't,"
Giles replied. "Alright," he said, thinking aloud. "Barrels
of vine, that must mean that it's in a vineyard, or at least some
sort of storage facility. Probably not in the home of an individual.
Most people store their wine in bottles, not barrels," he joked,
but no one laughed. Putting his glasses back on, he added,
"California is a wine producing state."
"So we should
research vineyards in California for any demonic associations?"
Xander asked.
"Probably start with places close to Sunnydale and work our way out," Dawn suggested.
"Both of you work on that," Giles said approvingly. "I want a full report on what you've found tomorrow morning."
"What are you gonna do?" Kennedy asked.
"I want to pull some volumes on weapons and have you look at them with me. See if you don't recognize something," Giles replied.
"Sounds like a plan," Kennedy said. Giles, Xander, and Dawn collectively got up in a flurry of excitement and left the room. Dawn and Xander were off to find the laptop and Giles to find more books. Kennedy waited. She could hear the television in the next room and the girls laughing. She suddenly felt incredibly alone.
"Not all you thought it would be?" Eli asked, appearing behind her and moving over to the chair that Giles had just vacated. He sat down next to her and propped his feet up on the table. Kennedy looked over at him. He looked so real, so human. But she knew that if she reached out and tried to grab his leg, her hand would pass through him.
"What?" She asked.
"Being a Slayer," Eli elaborated.
"What makes you say that?" Kennedy asked uncomfortably.
"Well, you're sitting in here by yourself," he answered. "I thought you'd be jazzed, unable to sit still. You've been waiting for this forever."
"I guess I didn't realize exactly what it would feel like," Kennedy said.
"Responsibility is a bitch," Eli replied.
Kennedy chuckled. "Where have you been anyway?"
"I figured you didn't want me hanging around while you and the redhead were getting physical," he replied with a salacious grin.
"Thanks," Kennedy said. "I appreciate that."
"No problem." Giles walked back into the room and Eli stood, moving away from the chair. The Watcher was loaded down with books. Had Giles sat on Eli, he would have simply sat through Eli. But years of having a solid, human body had trained Eli to move when someone was trying to sit on him.
"Alright," Giles said, stacking the books on the table and flipping open the pages of the first one. "Let's see what we can find."
