Special K
by Doc Stewart
Synopsis: Post episode 16, Willow sleeps fitfully while Kennedy muses and remembers a long-ago past. A very different take on the Willow / Kennedy relationship.
Author's note: This idea came to me after watching episode 13, and noting that Kennedy seems much too effective at handling magic, especially for someone who supposedly doesn't believe in it.
Copyright: All characters copyright of Mutant Enemy; I'm just borrowing them under the good graces of ME and Fox. Original story copyright 2003.
Distribution: Please ask first (dr_stewart@hotmail.com), but I will generally grant permission to redistribute this story, with proper credits.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through Season 7, Episode 16
Shameless plug: If you like this story, my story "Inner Demons," (story id 893080), and its sequel, "Knights in Rusted Armor," (story id 982150), share certain similarities.
Chapter 1: Ever So Close
She's finally asleep, now. She had been awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, occasionally repositioning her body to find a more comfortable position. I know, because I was awake, too. I could sense her. And, occasionally, I'd furtively glance over the side of the bed to look at her.
She still sleeps on the floor, of course.
I understand that she doesn't want to have sex. Between her guilt over Tara and her fear that it will all happen again the next time she makes love, it's the last thing she wants to do right now. But I wish that she would at least be up here, and that we could at least hold each other. Despite what the others think, we've barely held hands and kissed a few times.
She doesn't understand how much I need her. How much I love her.
Of course she doesn't, I sharply remind myself. She thinks you're just a nice young girl whose Slayer hormones have kicked in prematurely. She's afraid that with even the small opening she's allowed, she's just using me to ease her pain, like Buffy did with Spike. That she can't possibly betray Tara, and that she isn't worthy of anyone's love ever again, even if it wasn't betraying Tara. There is a spark of attraction, of hope, of what might someday become love. But it's small, and it's flickering.
I could have read all of this by hearing the quiver in her voice, the slight but constant shivering in her body language. It's not just that I can read her auras perfectly and sometimes hear her thoughts, although I try to block those out.
So I can also tell that her instincts are telling her that there's something a little too different about me, a little too perfect, although she's still pushing those thoughts away. Right now, she's chalking her instincts up to the obvious difference in skill level and confidence between me and the rest of the SITs. That's making things much easier than they might otherwise be.
Still, I can't help but be a little disappointed. Her instincts are perfectly right. She should learn to trust them more.
I'm drawn back to her by soft muffled cries coming from the floor. She's having more nightmares. About Tara being shot, about her going mad with grief and rage, killing Rack, skinning Warren, trying to kill Dawn, trying to kill her friends, and otherwise becoming everything she swore she'd never become. She put so much into seeing herself as a fighter for Wholesome Goodness, after all. It helped her to keep her inner demons at bay, at least for a while. And now that defense against her self is gone. She'll never see herself as being Wholesome Goodness again.
I know all this because I'm watching her nightmares. I have to.
At least she doesn't really remember the trying to end the world part. She knows she did something really bad after absorbing the coven's magical essence that caused her to be in a field with a demonic temple. Something labeled as "attempted to destroy the world," but it hasn't really sunk into her psyche. Thank Goddess it hasn't. She'd try to kill herself within minutes if it did.
Not that it was her fault, anyway. I suddenly notice that my hand is clenching up. I force my hands open, and see the bloody marks where my fingernails had been, again. Crap. I'm still enraged about it.
It's not like I don't have good reasons. Yes, she had become an evil monster. Yes, she was doing very bad things. But she hadn't become a harbinger of the apocalypse. That took a committee.
Hey there, Super Buffy, your best friend is lost in a storm of self-hatred. I've got it, says Super Buffy, let's kick her ass! Mr. Pointy sure does solve everything, damned sure.
Hey there, Mr. Rupert Giles, your other surrogate daughter's got a little problem. Her grief and rage is churning every bit of magical power she can find into a lethal brew destroying her mind. I've got it, says Mr. Giles, my coven colleagues and I will load her up with even more magical power, more than any human has ever had before! That will put her in touch with her inner beauty, guaranteed. Bloody hell, I'm so damned smart.
Emphasis on the "damned."
Fortunately, some of us real professionals were there, after all. And thank Goddess for Xander, who managed to find some small spark inside Willow, and distract her long enough for us to pull the plug safely. This dimension wouldn't have ended, but if it wasn't for him, things could have gotten out of hand. We might have lost her.
I'm drawn out of my rage-stoking reverie by a terrible whimpering noise coming from the floor. Her nightmares have changed.
Oh, no.
I can feel Willow suffer as she watches image after image of herself killing and destroying, as if she was a finely tuned instrument of destruction. She works ever so quickly and efficiently, despite the screams, despite desperate pleas, despite all the blood. Humans, demons, good, bad, indifferent, whatever. She's supposed to kill them, so she does. It's what she's meant to do. It's as if it's what she was created to do.
At least when she wakes up, she thinks they're just nightmares, more symptoms of her guilt for her crimes. But these nightmares are getting longer every night. And a part of her mind - small, but growing fast - is beginning to figure it out.
How will I tell her the truth, that they're not really nightmares? That what she's seeing what really happened?
How will I ever tell her that I have the same nightmares?
I don't know. But I will have to figure something out, and soon. I just wish, in some small way, that she could help me. She was always the smart one.
* * *
At last she's really fallen asleep. Her body's screams for some small bit of rest have finally been answered. The nightmares have stopped, at least for now. She'll be completely out for the next few hours. An army of screaming demons wouldn't wake her.
Which is good. Between that, Buffy out patrolling, and the rest of the house either fast asleep or desperately trying to hide under their covers, it's easy for me to get out of the house.
Now I can feed properly.
The last body I "appropriated" in this dimension - well, let's not go there. It had issues. This body, however, has what I need. The former occupant really was a potential Slayer. So, this body has demonic essences, which made it easy to modify it for my own personal needs. I smile slightly, and lick my lips.
More importantly, the body's supernatural nature is what I need to maintain a connection to my real body back home, in my own personal hell dimension. Actually, it's more of a heck dimension now - there's been so much progress. I just wish that Willow was able to appreciate it.
From what I can tell, the former occupant wasn't a bad girl. Nice, friendly, loved her Mum and Dad, loved her sister, especially since she had a separate wing. Bit snobbish, though. And cocky. But even so, it was a real shame the First's Harbingers killed her. She was actually the first to go. It was a real mess. I should know - I was secretly there, watching. Real shame I couldn't save her. It took a while to get the body fixed up after the Harbingers were done, too. But this is war, and sacrifices have to be made. And it's not like she would have lasted much longer at Chez Summers.
I bite my lip slightly. Poor girls. The truth is that they're cannon fodder, and we all know it. The other truth is that I could use my powers to save them from the First's attacks - at least right now. It's a real shame that doing so would tip the First off to my presence, which would ruin everything. And then the SITs would surely die. So every day and night I force myself not to call on my real abilities, hoping that I won't hear yet more screams.
Did I mention that this is war, and sacrifices have to be made?
The real question is why the others haven't questioned why I'm the only SIT who doesn't look like demon chow. So far, they haven't gotten any farther then making snide comments about me really being Lara Croft.
My musings come to an end, as I've reached the cemetery. Now it's showtime.
I start scanning intensely, looking for both Buffy and vamps. I need to make sure I don't run into Buffy - it's one confrontation I want to avoid right now. So what I really need to find are some vamps that are as far away from the Slayer as possible.
It only takes me a few seconds to find a nice little group a good half-mile from Buffy. Three of them. Ideal.
I quickly walk within hearing range of their group. It's time to put on my patented Little Girl Lost routine. I start sniffling, loudly.
I can sense their ears prick up immediately. Many vampires will put on a good act of helping a lost little girl before they rip her neck open. These are no exception. They emerge suddenly from out of the shadows.
"Hey there, don't cry. What's a pretty little girl like you crying her eyes out in a place like this?"
I sob into my arms. "I'm so sad, hurting so badly. Please help me. Please?" I whisper, plaintively.
They change into their game faces, thinking I can't sense what they're doing. "Sure, we'll help you," says one, his voice practically dripping with hunger. "What's the matter? Just tell Uncle Biff and everything will be okay."
I suddenly jerk my head up. They aren't the only creatures of the night with game faces. And mine is one they have never seen before. It's not designed to suck on soft and fleshy humans. It's designed to rip apart armored demons. It's complete overkill against these pathetic little vamps, but, oh well. I either go with the first class weaponry, or I don't go.
"Oh, lovely," I whisper. "I'm so sad because I've just been so very hungry. I'm so very glad you're going to let me eat you."
They do something vampires almost never do. They scream. I smile, brandishing my saber-length fangs. Dinner is served.
* * *
Unfortunately, I had to eat quickly. Super Buffy heard their screams, and thought they were from people. Sigh. I so hate fast food. But hey, it's a major improvement over burned macaroni and cheese, or cold pizza.
I managed to finish gorging myself, with seconds to spare. Unfortunately, I have to leave some dust behind. Buffy might pick it up, and wonder who else is staking vampires. But that's better than wondering who or what is leaving ripped-apart vamp chunks.
I hurry back to Chez Summers, before anyone wakes up and notices I'm missing. As I get close, I realize someone's awake. Crap.
Oh. False alarm. It's Giles.
I quietly open and walk through the front door. I'm careful to avoid making a noise, although I don't have to worry about sneaking past Giles unseen. I sense him looking at me through the pale moonlight in the room.
[Find anything?] he silently asks.
[Three vamps. Rather tasty.] I grin at him.
He shudders slightly. [That's not what I meant.]
[I know. No evidence of the First. It's laying low, for now. Trying to figure out its next move. Cosmic entities woven into the fabric of space and time aren't that bright.]
He nods. He muffles a sigh. [We're not exactly playing Scrabble, though, are we? It has all the power.]
[Not all the power. And that may be enough.]
He nods. [How's she doing?]
Now it's my turn to give a muffled sigh. [The nightmares are getting worse. Her guilt and self-hatred are getting worse. The quiet, dark torment in her mind is getting worse. It's killing me to see her like this.]
[She's a strong girl. She'll pull through.]
[Yes. But we're going to need to take the drastic measures I told you about. Very soon.]
He gasps. [Isn't there another way?]
[No. She must become... something stronger... or she will die. The dark powers inside her are growing ever faster. They're already of a magnitude similar to mine. And but a thumbnail of who I am is in this dimension. Her body and mind will not be able to keep them controlled for much longer. I won't let that happen. Not again.]
He seems unsure.
[We almost lost her a few weeks ago, when Amy cursed her. Don't you remember? Or would you like me to show you the gun?]
He nods and shudders..
[And while we're at it, barrier forces guarding the divisions between the worlds don't normally roll over when someone yells at them to open a portal, do they?]
He nods, but he's still unsure. I can tell why.
I sneer at him. [Yes, fine. You're absolutely correct. I want her, too. I need her. We all need her. But I am right about what needs to be done.]
He sighs. I see the "but" forming in his mind.
[She's not your little girl,] I snap. [Neither am I.]
He drops his head, defeated. I don't have to remind him of what happened the last time he went off on a Daddy Knows Best kick. I also know he loves her, deeply. So does Super Buffy. It's why I haven't killed them.
I turn to go upstairs. [I need to go check on her.]
[Yes, I understand. Good night, ... ]
I mentally stop his thoughts. [No. Don't call me that. Don't even think of me as her. She's gone. We can't afford to have any confusion about it.]
He sighs. [Good night, Kennedy.]
* * *
When I get back to her room, she's still out cold. For these few hours every night, she looks so peaceful. I quietly bend down and kiss her forehead. Then I crawl back into bed. The bed we should be sharing together.
I drop my head over the bed and stare at her. It's the old cliché of being "so close, yet so far away."
It seems like such a long time ago, now, even though it was only a few decades ago. When she sacrificed so much to save us. She somehow knew what would happen, knew her soul wouldn't be passing into the Great Beyond just yet. Just before she burned she said that somehow, in some way, she'd come back to us.
As I felt the fireball, watched the flames burn across the sky and heard the distant screams as our enemy fell at last, I swore that I would find her. No matter what it took.
We carefully collected the ashes, and slowly - painfully slowly - reconstituted her. It took years, but in the end we rebuilt her body, better even that at its former peak. Of course, right now it's little more than a museum piece. It rests motionless, with no mind or soul. Its awakening will only come with her return.
Then "all" that was left was to find her. For years, we searched every way we could think of. Magical detection spells, searchers across dimensions, all to no avail.
Then one day she found us. Calling in part on our power to curse some vampire named Angelus with a soul. We've been able to follow her ever since. That doesn't mean we've been able to help her. Not yet.
I will succeed, though. I haven't searched through three hundred dimensions, gone through two human avatars, and spent years watching her suffer to abandon her to forces she can barely comprehend. I love my Willow tree far too much for that.
* * *
To be continued...
by Doc Stewart
Synopsis: Post episode 16, Willow sleeps fitfully while Kennedy muses and remembers a long-ago past. A very different take on the Willow / Kennedy relationship.
Author's note: This idea came to me after watching episode 13, and noting that Kennedy seems much too effective at handling magic, especially for someone who supposedly doesn't believe in it.
Copyright: All characters copyright of Mutant Enemy; I'm just borrowing them under the good graces of ME and Fox. Original story copyright 2003.
Distribution: Please ask first (dr_stewart@hotmail.com), but I will generally grant permission to redistribute this story, with proper credits.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through Season 7, Episode 16
Shameless plug: If you like this story, my story "Inner Demons," (story id 893080), and its sequel, "Knights in Rusted Armor," (story id 982150), share certain similarities.
Chapter 1: Ever So Close
She's finally asleep, now. She had been awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, occasionally repositioning her body to find a more comfortable position. I know, because I was awake, too. I could sense her. And, occasionally, I'd furtively glance over the side of the bed to look at her.
She still sleeps on the floor, of course.
I understand that she doesn't want to have sex. Between her guilt over Tara and her fear that it will all happen again the next time she makes love, it's the last thing she wants to do right now. But I wish that she would at least be up here, and that we could at least hold each other. Despite what the others think, we've barely held hands and kissed a few times.
She doesn't understand how much I need her. How much I love her.
Of course she doesn't, I sharply remind myself. She thinks you're just a nice young girl whose Slayer hormones have kicked in prematurely. She's afraid that with even the small opening she's allowed, she's just using me to ease her pain, like Buffy did with Spike. That she can't possibly betray Tara, and that she isn't worthy of anyone's love ever again, even if it wasn't betraying Tara. There is a spark of attraction, of hope, of what might someday become love. But it's small, and it's flickering.
I could have read all of this by hearing the quiver in her voice, the slight but constant shivering in her body language. It's not just that I can read her auras perfectly and sometimes hear her thoughts, although I try to block those out.
So I can also tell that her instincts are telling her that there's something a little too different about me, a little too perfect, although she's still pushing those thoughts away. Right now, she's chalking her instincts up to the obvious difference in skill level and confidence between me and the rest of the SITs. That's making things much easier than they might otherwise be.
Still, I can't help but be a little disappointed. Her instincts are perfectly right. She should learn to trust them more.
I'm drawn back to her by soft muffled cries coming from the floor. She's having more nightmares. About Tara being shot, about her going mad with grief and rage, killing Rack, skinning Warren, trying to kill Dawn, trying to kill her friends, and otherwise becoming everything she swore she'd never become. She put so much into seeing herself as a fighter for Wholesome Goodness, after all. It helped her to keep her inner demons at bay, at least for a while. And now that defense against her self is gone. She'll never see herself as being Wholesome Goodness again.
I know all this because I'm watching her nightmares. I have to.
At least she doesn't really remember the trying to end the world part. She knows she did something really bad after absorbing the coven's magical essence that caused her to be in a field with a demonic temple. Something labeled as "attempted to destroy the world," but it hasn't really sunk into her psyche. Thank Goddess it hasn't. She'd try to kill herself within minutes if it did.
Not that it was her fault, anyway. I suddenly notice that my hand is clenching up. I force my hands open, and see the bloody marks where my fingernails had been, again. Crap. I'm still enraged about it.
It's not like I don't have good reasons. Yes, she had become an evil monster. Yes, she was doing very bad things. But she hadn't become a harbinger of the apocalypse. That took a committee.
Hey there, Super Buffy, your best friend is lost in a storm of self-hatred. I've got it, says Super Buffy, let's kick her ass! Mr. Pointy sure does solve everything, damned sure.
Hey there, Mr. Rupert Giles, your other surrogate daughter's got a little problem. Her grief and rage is churning every bit of magical power she can find into a lethal brew destroying her mind. I've got it, says Mr. Giles, my coven colleagues and I will load her up with even more magical power, more than any human has ever had before! That will put her in touch with her inner beauty, guaranteed. Bloody hell, I'm so damned smart.
Emphasis on the "damned."
Fortunately, some of us real professionals were there, after all. And thank Goddess for Xander, who managed to find some small spark inside Willow, and distract her long enough for us to pull the plug safely. This dimension wouldn't have ended, but if it wasn't for him, things could have gotten out of hand. We might have lost her.
I'm drawn out of my rage-stoking reverie by a terrible whimpering noise coming from the floor. Her nightmares have changed.
Oh, no.
I can feel Willow suffer as she watches image after image of herself killing and destroying, as if she was a finely tuned instrument of destruction. She works ever so quickly and efficiently, despite the screams, despite desperate pleas, despite all the blood. Humans, demons, good, bad, indifferent, whatever. She's supposed to kill them, so she does. It's what she's meant to do. It's as if it's what she was created to do.
At least when she wakes up, she thinks they're just nightmares, more symptoms of her guilt for her crimes. But these nightmares are getting longer every night. And a part of her mind - small, but growing fast - is beginning to figure it out.
How will I tell her the truth, that they're not really nightmares? That what she's seeing what really happened?
How will I ever tell her that I have the same nightmares?
I don't know. But I will have to figure something out, and soon. I just wish, in some small way, that she could help me. She was always the smart one.
* * *
At last she's really fallen asleep. Her body's screams for some small bit of rest have finally been answered. The nightmares have stopped, at least for now. She'll be completely out for the next few hours. An army of screaming demons wouldn't wake her.
Which is good. Between that, Buffy out patrolling, and the rest of the house either fast asleep or desperately trying to hide under their covers, it's easy for me to get out of the house.
Now I can feed properly.
The last body I "appropriated" in this dimension - well, let's not go there. It had issues. This body, however, has what I need. The former occupant really was a potential Slayer. So, this body has demonic essences, which made it easy to modify it for my own personal needs. I smile slightly, and lick my lips.
More importantly, the body's supernatural nature is what I need to maintain a connection to my real body back home, in my own personal hell dimension. Actually, it's more of a heck dimension now - there's been so much progress. I just wish that Willow was able to appreciate it.
From what I can tell, the former occupant wasn't a bad girl. Nice, friendly, loved her Mum and Dad, loved her sister, especially since she had a separate wing. Bit snobbish, though. And cocky. But even so, it was a real shame the First's Harbingers killed her. She was actually the first to go. It was a real mess. I should know - I was secretly there, watching. Real shame I couldn't save her. It took a while to get the body fixed up after the Harbingers were done, too. But this is war, and sacrifices have to be made. And it's not like she would have lasted much longer at Chez Summers.
I bite my lip slightly. Poor girls. The truth is that they're cannon fodder, and we all know it. The other truth is that I could use my powers to save them from the First's attacks - at least right now. It's a real shame that doing so would tip the First off to my presence, which would ruin everything. And then the SITs would surely die. So every day and night I force myself not to call on my real abilities, hoping that I won't hear yet more screams.
Did I mention that this is war, and sacrifices have to be made?
The real question is why the others haven't questioned why I'm the only SIT who doesn't look like demon chow. So far, they haven't gotten any farther then making snide comments about me really being Lara Croft.
My musings come to an end, as I've reached the cemetery. Now it's showtime.
I start scanning intensely, looking for both Buffy and vamps. I need to make sure I don't run into Buffy - it's one confrontation I want to avoid right now. So what I really need to find are some vamps that are as far away from the Slayer as possible.
It only takes me a few seconds to find a nice little group a good half-mile from Buffy. Three of them. Ideal.
I quickly walk within hearing range of their group. It's time to put on my patented Little Girl Lost routine. I start sniffling, loudly.
I can sense their ears prick up immediately. Many vampires will put on a good act of helping a lost little girl before they rip her neck open. These are no exception. They emerge suddenly from out of the shadows.
"Hey there, don't cry. What's a pretty little girl like you crying her eyes out in a place like this?"
I sob into my arms. "I'm so sad, hurting so badly. Please help me. Please?" I whisper, plaintively.
They change into their game faces, thinking I can't sense what they're doing. "Sure, we'll help you," says one, his voice practically dripping with hunger. "What's the matter? Just tell Uncle Biff and everything will be okay."
I suddenly jerk my head up. They aren't the only creatures of the night with game faces. And mine is one they have never seen before. It's not designed to suck on soft and fleshy humans. It's designed to rip apart armored demons. It's complete overkill against these pathetic little vamps, but, oh well. I either go with the first class weaponry, or I don't go.
"Oh, lovely," I whisper. "I'm so sad because I've just been so very hungry. I'm so very glad you're going to let me eat you."
They do something vampires almost never do. They scream. I smile, brandishing my saber-length fangs. Dinner is served.
* * *
Unfortunately, I had to eat quickly. Super Buffy heard their screams, and thought they were from people. Sigh. I so hate fast food. But hey, it's a major improvement over burned macaroni and cheese, or cold pizza.
I managed to finish gorging myself, with seconds to spare. Unfortunately, I have to leave some dust behind. Buffy might pick it up, and wonder who else is staking vampires. But that's better than wondering who or what is leaving ripped-apart vamp chunks.
I hurry back to Chez Summers, before anyone wakes up and notices I'm missing. As I get close, I realize someone's awake. Crap.
Oh. False alarm. It's Giles.
I quietly open and walk through the front door. I'm careful to avoid making a noise, although I don't have to worry about sneaking past Giles unseen. I sense him looking at me through the pale moonlight in the room.
[Find anything?] he silently asks.
[Three vamps. Rather tasty.] I grin at him.
He shudders slightly. [That's not what I meant.]
[I know. No evidence of the First. It's laying low, for now. Trying to figure out its next move. Cosmic entities woven into the fabric of space and time aren't that bright.]
He nods. He muffles a sigh. [We're not exactly playing Scrabble, though, are we? It has all the power.]
[Not all the power. And that may be enough.]
He nods. [How's she doing?]
Now it's my turn to give a muffled sigh. [The nightmares are getting worse. Her guilt and self-hatred are getting worse. The quiet, dark torment in her mind is getting worse. It's killing me to see her like this.]
[She's a strong girl. She'll pull through.]
[Yes. But we're going to need to take the drastic measures I told you about. Very soon.]
He gasps. [Isn't there another way?]
[No. She must become... something stronger... or she will die. The dark powers inside her are growing ever faster. They're already of a magnitude similar to mine. And but a thumbnail of who I am is in this dimension. Her body and mind will not be able to keep them controlled for much longer. I won't let that happen. Not again.]
He seems unsure.
[We almost lost her a few weeks ago, when Amy cursed her. Don't you remember? Or would you like me to show you the gun?]
He nods and shudders..
[And while we're at it, barrier forces guarding the divisions between the worlds don't normally roll over when someone yells at them to open a portal, do they?]
He nods, but he's still unsure. I can tell why.
I sneer at him. [Yes, fine. You're absolutely correct. I want her, too. I need her. We all need her. But I am right about what needs to be done.]
He sighs. I see the "but" forming in his mind.
[She's not your little girl,] I snap. [Neither am I.]
He drops his head, defeated. I don't have to remind him of what happened the last time he went off on a Daddy Knows Best kick. I also know he loves her, deeply. So does Super Buffy. It's why I haven't killed them.
I turn to go upstairs. [I need to go check on her.]
[Yes, I understand. Good night, ... ]
I mentally stop his thoughts. [No. Don't call me that. Don't even think of me as her. She's gone. We can't afford to have any confusion about it.]
He sighs. [Good night, Kennedy.]
* * *
When I get back to her room, she's still out cold. For these few hours every night, she looks so peaceful. I quietly bend down and kiss her forehead. Then I crawl back into bed. The bed we should be sharing together.
I drop my head over the bed and stare at her. It's the old cliché of being "so close, yet so far away."
It seems like such a long time ago, now, even though it was only a few decades ago. When she sacrificed so much to save us. She somehow knew what would happen, knew her soul wouldn't be passing into the Great Beyond just yet. Just before she burned she said that somehow, in some way, she'd come back to us.
As I felt the fireball, watched the flames burn across the sky and heard the distant screams as our enemy fell at last, I swore that I would find her. No matter what it took.
We carefully collected the ashes, and slowly - painfully slowly - reconstituted her. It took years, but in the end we rebuilt her body, better even that at its former peak. Of course, right now it's little more than a museum piece. It rests motionless, with no mind or soul. Its awakening will only come with her return.
Then "all" that was left was to find her. For years, we searched every way we could think of. Magical detection spells, searchers across dimensions, all to no avail.
Then one day she found us. Calling in part on our power to curse some vampire named Angelus with a soul. We've been able to follow her ever since. That doesn't mean we've been able to help her. Not yet.
I will succeed, though. I haven't searched through three hundred dimensions, gone through two human avatars, and spent years watching her suffer to abandon her to forces she can barely comprehend. I love my Willow tree far too much for that.
* * *
To be continued...
