A/N: As always thanks to my beta isugirl. I tend to play with these things once I get them back from her, so any lingering errors I claim full responsibility for.
The chapter title (Mother's Daughter) is a Santana song from the album Abraxas (1970).
Chapter 16 - Mother's Daughter
Sam had called Faith and asked her to meet him for lunch at a diner he often frequented. Faith wasn't surprised by the request because the two of them had been spending quite a bit of time together lately, especially since she'd been injured. She'd spent more time with Sam than she'd ever spent with a man she wasn't sleeping with. Actually, she'd never spent that much time with a man she had been sleeping with. It was really nice. She'd found the experience surprisingly enjoyable. However, that didn't mean she wasn't getting really tired of waiting for him to make a move.
After her last two attempts had ended in embarrassing rejection, she'd decided that the ball was in his court. That wasn't her normal MO. Usually, if she wanted a guy, she went for it. She didn't care if some men found that level of aggression intimidating. If they couldn't hack it, then it was their loss. But in this instance, she'd found herself playing an unfamiliar role. It was starting to drive her a little nuts too. She was horny as hell for one thing. She hadn't been laid in months and it wasn't because she'd suddenly embraced the abstinence movement. Her problem was that she wanted one specific guy. A guy who seemed to like to be around her all the time, but never so much as kissed her. Something was going to have to give.
Her recent near death experience had given Faith a lot to think about. She'd realized that it was kind of lame for her to be so terrified of relationships. She was a survivor. The things she'd lived through, both before and after being called, would have destroyed many people, but she was still here and kicking ass. She realized that if she could make it through all of that, she shouldn't be afraid to put herself out there and live her life. And if being with Sam meant she had to go the 'real relationship' route, she was willing to give it a shot. She still found the idea scary as hell, but she'd decided it was better than not being with him at all. The problem was approaching him about it. She wasn't quite sure how to bring it up and she didn't think her pride could take the sting of getting turned down again. So, they'd remained in a strange holding pattern and she wasn't sure if or when Sam would try and take things to the next level.
When she entered the diner, she immediately spotted Sam sitting in a booth at the back of the restaurant. He had his laptop open in front of him and was so consumed by what he was looking at that he didn't see her coming in. He was probably researching something. She liked to give him hell about that whenever she got the chance. It seemed like he never quit working. So, she approached him stealthily and leaned in beside him so she could see what was on the screen.
"Who's Chuck Shurley?" she asked curiously after noticing his Google search parameters.
Sam shrugged and smiled at her a little sheepishly. "He's nobody. At least I can't find any evidence that he exists anymore. Dude's off the grid. Sold his house and everything."
"Should I ask?" she said, taking in his reluctant manner.
"You probably shouldn't. That way if the police find out I murdered him, you'll be able to claim complete ignorance."
"Seriously?"
Sam laughed a little. "Sorta. I owe him a good ass kicking anyways."
"Okay then," Faith said as she slid into the seat across from him. "So what's up besides Chuck?" she asked with a grin.
Sam immediately turned serious and snapped the cover closed on his laptop. "I wanted to tell you something."
Faith stared back at him expectantly. She was starting to feel a few butterflies flapping around in her stomach. She wondered if he might actually be about to discuss their relationship (or lack thereof).
"You know how I told you I was missing some memories?"
"Yeah."
"Well, every now and then something comes back to me. Usually it's nothing big. More of a déjà vu type of feeling. Half the time, I'm not even sure if it is a real memory. Anyway," he shrugged, "the other day, when Giles was bitching about his missing books again, I kinda had this flash and ever since then, more and more details keep coming back to me."
"About what?" Faith asked hesitantly.
"About books of all things," he replied with an embarrassed eye roll. "See, my grandfather was a hunter too and he came from a really long line of hunters, going back I don't know how far. Over the years that side of the family put together this huge library and I'm pretty sure I remember where it's hidden. I think the books are stashed in this bolt house in Kansas and, if I can find them, I'm sure they could help us out a lot."
"Okay," she said, not really sure where he was going with this. "So, I guess you're gonna go find 'em?"
"Yeah, I am," he confirmed. "And you know how I told you those memories were kinda dangerous? Well, they are… but I think this is too big of a lead to leave lying. I'm going. Dean will freak, but it's something I have to do. I'd never forgive myself if somebody else died or got hurt and I didn't do everything I could to prevent it." Sam took a breath before continuing. "Anyway, I don't think anything will happen to me. I'm not trying to push it, but just in case, I wanted to let you know… I wanted to let you know that I'm sorry that things couldn't be different between us."
"You asked me to come here so you could tell me goodbye?" Faith asked angrily. "Are you for real?"
"No," Sam replied quickly. "I'm not saying goodbye, not really. I just didn't want to take any chances. I wanted you to know how I felt about you… That I'd like to… to be with you, if things were different. If I didn't have this stupid death sentence hanging over my head. I just wanted you to know," he finished lamely.
Faith narrowed her eyes and shook her head in disgust. "You're a dumbass," she said.
"Gee thanks," Sam replied, sounding rather surprised. "I've gotta say, that's not the reaction I expected."
Faith shrugged unapologetically. "So, this thing with your memories. You really think it'll kill ya?" she asked bluntly.
"It could," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "But truth is, nobody knows for sure. Supposedly, I could live a lifetime without it coming back to bite me, or I could keel over tomorrow. Who knows? Maybe if I do remember there's even a chance I could find a way to deal… other people have. Then again, I might be a drooling vegetable. The thing is, the guy who put my soul back wasn't even sure himself and, trust me, that dude sees the big picture."
"So you're in the same boat as the rest of us. You might die today, you might live to be a hundred. Am I right?"
"I guess," Sam conceded, "but it's not that simple…"
"Why the hell not?" Faith snapped. "I almost died a few weeks ago. Actually, I was dead for a minute or two. If the queen bitch decides to show her face today, I might end up dead again, but you don't see me givin' up on life. That's just an excuse. Don't even waste my time with that bullshit. I'm not an idiot!"
Sam took in the rather surprised faces of some of the other patrons and purposefully lowered his voice before speaking. "Why does everything have to be some kind of conspiracy?" he whispered angrily. "Why the hell do you think I spend so much time hanging out with you? Do you think this is all an elaborate joke?"
"I don't know what the hell it is," Faith admitted tightly. "I just don't buy the 'I can't have a life because I might die' line. You're really gonna feel like a stupid ass when you wake up one day, ninety-years-old, and realize that you've let your entire life pass you by. It's friggin pathetic."
Sam breathed in through his nostrils a few times, trying to control his temper. Faith really knew how to push his buttons.
"Faith," he said through gritted teeth. "There's more to it than me maybe dying. I have no idea what I did for that year, okay? No idea. I've got the feeling that I did some horrible things. I worked for a demon, so I'm pretty sure I wasn't feeding the poor. I can't just go on with my life and pretend like none of that ever happened."
"So you're punishing yourself?" she asked, sounding less angry than before.
"Maybe… I don't know. I just don't think it's right for me to act like I don't have a care in the world when there are people out there whose lives I've destroyed. I'm going to have to face that stuff someday. You know, when we get a five minute breather before the next apocalypse."
"Sam, listen. I'm all about taking responsibility for the things you've done, but whatever happened during that year, it wasn't you. You didn't have a soul, you're not responsible." Faith took in Sam's skeptical expression before continuing. "I know this guy, okay. Well, actually he's not technically a guy… But, he saved my life, in more ways than one. I trust him and you know I don't trust too easily. Anyways, when this dude doesn't have a soul… Man, believe me, you don't wanna be on the same planet. He makes Hitler seem like a fun party buddy. But the thing is, that's not him. Not really. I don't hold that stuff against him.
"Maybe not," Sam conceded, "but I've got the feeling this guy doesn't just give himself a free pass. Am I right?"
Faith nodded her head reluctantly. "Yeah," she admitted, "but that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve to be happy… and it doesn't mean you don't deserve to be happy. Whatever happened to all that forgiveness stuff you were feeding me? Was it all a bunch of shit or does it just not apply to you?"
Sam sighed, but before he had a chance to argue further, the text message alert on both of their phones started going off.
XXXXXXXXXX
"The Monday after a holiday is always the worst Monday ever," Buffy pouted as she and Dean walked toward the Council's main entrance.
"Yeah, it does suck pretty hard," Dean agreed with a yawn. "I'm still trying to recover from our Turkey Day sexathon. Screw Christmas! Thanksgiving is definitely the best holiday ever. You're awesome! You bought me four different pies and showed me that nifty new trick with your tongue. Damn. If it'll get me this kinda treatment, I'm almost tempted to let rat-boy throw his whammy on me again."
Buffy smiled and wrapped her arms around Dean's waist. "You don't need to be cursed. You can have the special Buffy treatment any time. I just want you to be happy."
"Trust me," he grinned. "I'm one happy man."
Buffy started to draw Dean into a nice slow kiss, but was stopped when she felt a tingle on the back of her neck. She looked past him toward the east side of the building where the girls' dormitories were located. What looked like an ordinary young woman was just standing there, staring intently at the side of the building. That was weird enough, but she was also wearing a sleeveless dress and no shoes, which wasn't exactly appropriate attire for Ohio in late November.
"Somehow I don't see how that could be a good thing," she remarked as she drew Dean's attention to their visitor.
"Hell no," he agreed as he pulled out his pistol. "That's definitely not a good thing. In fact, that might just be Big Mama herself."
"Guess we better say 'hello' then," Buffy remarked as she began to head across the lawn.
As they approached the figure, she turned and smiled, obviously unconcerned that she'd been spotted.
"Buffy," she greeted warmly, "it's so nice to finally get to meet you in person. I just had to come out here and see this so-called 'impenetrable fortress' for myself. You know, I really have to congratulate your witch. It might actually take a little effort to break through all these spells."
"Eve, I presume," Buffy said sourly as she stopped several feet away from the girl.
"Yes," she smiled, "but that's a little informal. Most of my children address me as 'Mother'."
"I'm not one of your children," Buffy replied coldly.
Eve shook her head and continued to smile smugly. "I'm disappointed. Don't tell me you don't know your Slayer lore."
"Yeah, yeah," Dean spoke up. "We know the fairytale. The essence of the last pure demon to walk the earth was bound to the first Slayer. But Buffy's no demon," he stated firmly. "I know demons. So sell your crackpot theories somewhere else sister."
Buffy regarded Dean with some surprise. She wasn't aware that he knew that legend. It wasn't something she liked to think about much herself. The idea of walking around with extra demon parts didn't exactly give her the warm and fuzzies.
Eve's attention had been drawn to Dean as well, almost as if she were just now bothering to notice his presence.
"You must be a hunter," she said as she stepped forward to examine him more closely, taking in the pistol with mild interest. "It's funny. I haven't been on earth for ten-thousand-years and yet I can still spot one of you guys from a mile away. Your kind hasn't changed much. You have fancier weapons, but it's still the same stance, same arrogant, holier-than-thou attitude. At least most of you smell a little better these days."
When she failed to get much of a reaction from a stone-faced Dean, she turned her attention back to Buffy.
"The hunter's sort of right. I'm not a demon," she stated with obvious distaste at the title. "You humans tend to use that word much too loosely. Demons can't create, they can only destroy. I, on the other hand, am creation. I am a Mother, a Goddess… and you," she said, regarding Buffy with distaste, "You're not fit to be my child. You reek of human frailty and mortality. But, unfortunately, we're still connected. Those men did steal some of my power when they made that first Slayer and I'm finally here to get it back."
Buffy shrugged, attempting to appear unruffled by this woman's words. "After ten-thousand-years, I say finders, keepers."
"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Even if that is true, I think the statute of limitations on that little caper expired a long time ago. Sorry lady, you'll just have to buck-up and find a way to deal. Maybe you should call Oprah, cry it out with her."
Anger flashed briefly in the brunette's eyes, but she shrugged it off and smiled sweetly at the pair. "I'm not the monster you two make me out to be," she said in a conversational tone. "I just want what's rightfully mine. Just one girl." She reached out a hand to touch the side of the building, but drew it back when her flesh began to sizzle and smoke. "My true vessel's in there," she continued. "I can feel her. You give her to me and I'll let the rest of you live. I think that's a pretty fair trade."
"Well in that case," Buffy said drawing back a fist, "allow me to counter your offer with a lovely set of broken teeth."
Buffy immediately regretted delivering that blow. She drew back her hand and rubbed at her fist almost involuntarily. She'd punched brick walls that were softer than this woman's face. Going in blind, she decided, might have been a little hasty. In fact, it was definitely time for her and Dean to hold their heads high and bravely run like hell. Then, to her horror, Eve suddenly morphed into her mother. Her real mother, Joyce Summers. She froze.
"How dare you," she breathed out, unable to quit staring at this perfect replica of her beloved mom.
Dean took in Buffy's hurt and horrified expression and immediately remembered the picture hanging in the living room that held this woman's likeness. This sick freak had turned into Buffy's dead mother. He was going to kill this whore. He held up his gun arm and aimed at the woman.
"You're a real bitch," he accused her angrily.
Eve didn't seem to notice or even hear Dean. Instead, she quickly snatched Buffy up by the front of her coat and held her with her feet dangling off the ground, so that they were eye-to-eye.
"You've always been an ungrateful little brat," she said in Joyce's voice. "Maybe you'd have turned out better if I'd smacked you around some. You know what they say, spare the rod, spoil the child."
After saying the last part, Eve slapped Buffy across the face with her free hand, then released her nonchalantly and dusted off her palms. Dean managed to catch her now-unconscious form before she hit the ground. From his kneeling position, he quickly fired off a shot, hitting Eve directly in the heart. It was purely out of anger, because he was damn sure it wouldn't do any real good.
"Consecrated iron," she observed flippantly. "It does kinda sting." She frowned at the hole in her dress for a moment before smoothing her hand over it and restoring the garment to perfect condition. She uttered a bored sigh before continuing. "Obviously a few millennia wasn't enough time for you two monkeys to develop a sense of reason. Oh well," she shrugged casually, "maybe the witch that worked these protection spells has a little more sense, but, if not, I can always skin her alive and incinerate you all," she added cheerfully.
Before Dean could tell Eve exactly where she could stick her reason, she was gone. She'd disappeared into thin air and he wasn't about to complain about that either. They obviously weren't ready to face her. Besides, he was more concerned with Buffy at the moment. He'd seen her take plenty of punches and never once get knocked out, but one slap from this bitch had put her out cold. He wasn't sure he wanted to ponder the implications of that. Any way you looked at it, it still spelled 'fucked'. Right now he had to concentrate on getting her inside and raising the alarm before Momma decided to make an encore appearance.
Buffy started to come around as Dean carried her into the infirmary. She groaned when the sound of him barking orders made it feel like someone was beating on the inside of her skull with a sledgehammer.
"I think she won that one," she moaned as he laid her on one of the beds. Allie immediately came over and brushed Dean aside as she began checking her over. Buffy decided that the evil penlight the girl shined in her eyes would definitely have to be destroyed… and she'd get right on that (just as soon as the room stopped spinning).
"We have to warn everybody," she murmured to the two or three very concerned looking Deans that were standing behind Allie.
"Xander's on it," he assured her. "I think most everybody's already here, but if they're not, they're on their way. Looks like the virgins aren't the only ones on lockdown."
"Oh no," Buffy managed to say before the nausea nearly overtook her. Allie was ready for this and quickly shoved a pan beneath her head.
"Dean, go away. I'm gonna be sick," she groaned miserably as she struggled for self control.
"Don't be stupid," he reasoned. "Baby, I'm sure you have a concussion. Puking's part of the package."
"I don't care," Buffy whined desperately. "It's gross."
"Sorry Dean," Allie said firmly as she pointed toward the door. "You heard the lady."
Dean reluctantly allowed himself to be evicted. He knew losing your lunch in front of people wasn't exactly fun, but right now it seemed like Buffy's vanity should be the least of her worries. But, then again, if she was still 'Buffy enough' to be worried about that sort of thing, she must be relatively okay. At least that was one good sign. Besides, it looked like there were quite a few people gathering around looking for answers and he guessed he'd have to fill everybody in.
Giles, Willow, and Xander had appeared along with quite a few of the Slayers and unfortunately that squirrely-assed Andrew too. If he wasn't sure he could crush that dude like a bug, Dean would be afraid of being stuck in a hole and forced to rub lotion on his skin. Jeez, that guy was making him even more uncomfortable lately. The way he stared at him reminded him of Fatal Attraction. He was glad he didn't have a pet rabbit.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted his brother and Faith hurrying toward him. He didn't think Eve was particularly gunning for Sam, but that didn't mean he wasn't glad to see that he'd made it safely inside the building.
"Did she say which girl she wanted?" Giles asked when Dean had finished recounting their encounter with Eve.
"No," he replied, "but it seemed like she had someone in mind."
"This could be good," Willow said, trying to sound positive. "If Eve really was the source of the Slayers' power, then we know she's already been banished from this dimension once. We'll just have to figure out how they did it and do it again."
"That should be easy," Giles replied sarcastically, "I'm sure I just overlooked that incantation when I was reading through my books for the one-billionth time."
Dean noted that lately, the Watcher had been looking even more frazzled and if the lingering smell of brandy was any indication, he figured he was well on his way to actually becoming the British version of Bobby.
"Actually," Sam said, "I think I might be able to help with that. I just need to talk to Dean first."
XXXXXXXXXX
"What?" Dean asked suspiciously after his brother had ushered him into the break room and shut the door behind them. Sam had that determined look on his face, the one that usually meant he was about to do something that Dean wasn't going to like.
"Dammit Sam," he ground out once his brother had confirmed his suspicions. "You're gonna get yourself killed."
"No I'm not," Sam argued in his most reasonable tone (the one that made Dean want to punch him). "Dean, you know we don't have another choice. We're sitting ducks here. This might be the only shot we have. I promise you, I'm not trying to dredge up a bunch of memories. I just want to find that library. That's it. Nothing else."
Dean cursed and wondered if Giles would be willing to share some of his brandy. He knew Sam was right, but that didn't mean the whole idea didn't freak him the hell out. Besides, he'd never felt so torn. He couldn't let Sam run off to Kansas by himself where he might have some sort of collapse and he couldn't leave Buffy or the Hellmouth just when the Queen Bitch from Hell had finally decided to show her face.
"Sam," he pleaded uselessly.
As he often did, Sam proved that he was extremely skilled at reading his older brother's thoughts.
"I'll get Bobby to meet me there, okay? You know he will. He's closer than we are anyway."
"You'll go meet him first," Dean said firmly. "I don't want you stepping one foot in Kansas by yourself. Promise me or I tie your ass up. I don't care Sam. I mean it."
Sam sighed. "Dean, that's going to take me two days out of the way, we can't afford that. How about I meet him somewhere outside of Kansas? He can drive over into Missouri or I can meet up with him in Nebraska. I'll check in with you every hour," he added half-jokingly.
"Fine," Dean relented, desperately hoping this wasn't going to end in disaster.
XXXXXXXXXX
By the time Dean was allowed back in the infirmary, he was relieved to see that Buffy's color was much better and, aside from the large bruise across her cheek, she was sitting up and looking more like herself. She seemed embarrassed and even a little apprehensive to see him though. He couldn't believe she was being so silly about getting sick, chicks had weird priorities sometimes.
"We've all blown chunks before," he teased as he kissed her on the forehead. "I think I can get past it."
Buffy frowned in embarrassment. "Yeah, well I've gotta say that was a first for me. After being knocked out anyway. I don't know what's wrong with me. I must be getting old."
"Well, that was quite a blow," he said sympathetically.
"It was a bitch slap," she mumbled shamefully.
Dean didn't comment. The fact that Mommy was that incredibly powerful was just a depressing subject. He reached out a hand and gently examined the bruises on Buffy's face. She looked like somebody had whacked her upside the head with a two-by-four. He seriously wanted to dismember that Eve bitch.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," she sighed. "I'm mostly just humiliated. Plus, I think I have whiplash. Maybe I should sue her."
"Probably wouldn't get much. Bitch doesn't even have any shoes."
Buffy smiled slightly and then stared at her hands for a moment before continuing. "What did you think about what she said out there?" she asked quietly.
"What that 'call me mommy' crap? Come on, that's ridiculous."
"My power came from somewhere. Why would she lie about that?"
"I don't know," he shrugged. "Evil things like to lie. I don't think they really need a good reason. Anyway, so what if that is where it came from? You're just using some of her mojo, doesn't mean you're like her."
"I hope not," Buffy replied solemnly. "She's not just a monster, Dean. She's the mother of all the monsters. She's Kate Gosselin from caveman times!"
Dean sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "So this isn't about you tossing your cookies? You're actually letting that thing get to you?"
"Well yeah. I mean the puking was gross and all, but I'm a little more disturbed about the fact that I might be invited to the next annual Adam's Family Reunion. Can you imagine what's in their covered dishes? I'm pretty sure the fried chicken won't actually be chicken."
Dean laughed a little despite the sour look Buffy shot him. She was actually serious about this crazy stuff. "Baby, listen to yourself. You're not a monster. If it makes you feel better, think about it this way. When people kick it, they either go to heaven or hell… depending on what they've done. But Eve's kids, whether they're good little monsters or bad little monsters, they all go to the same place. When you…," he paused, not wanting to say 'died'. "Well, you know what I'm saying. You didn't go to Purgatory, you went upstairs. You're not one of hers."
"You really don't think so?" she asked hopefully.
"No! Buffy, you're not like Eve. Trust me, I live with you. I know you," he stressed seriously. "I meant what I said out there. After thousands of years and God knows how many Slayers, that power's not hers anymore. It's yours and you use it to help people. Bitch just needs to learn to let go. Besides, you have way too many shoes to be her kid," he teased.
"I guess," she replied, smiling a little. "But I still don't like thinking I have anything in common with that thing. She's so cruel. I can't believe she turned into mom. I'm just glad Dawn wasn't here to see that. She would've freaked."
"Yeah, that sucked," he agreed as he reached out to pat her leg comfortingly.
"So, what are we going to do?" she asked with a wry smile. "I don't think brute force is gonna cut it this time. Usually that's my go-to plan."
"Mine too," Dean agreed. "I guess we could call up Cas. He said he wanted in on this one. Plus, we can hope Willow will be able to keep the bitch out for a few more days. Sam's going on a milk run to pickup the Campbell family archives. Surely there's something we can use in there. Cause if not…"
"We're all a bunch of fluffy, harmless, little marshmallows just waiting to be roasted?"
"Something like that."
XXXXXXXXXX
Sam patiently endured his brother's checking and re-checking of his stock of weapons and supplies. He knew it was taking a lot for Dean to let him go without tagging along, so he didn't allow his bitching and grousing about his packing skills to get under his skin. He didn't want Dean to go, to be honest. He felt like retrieving these books was one way of taking responsibility for that missing year and he needed to do that on his own. Mostly on his own anyway. Bobby would still be there, but that was still a whole lot different than having his well-meaning, yet often controlling older brother around. It wasn't that he felt like bringing the books back would even the score, but still, if he was able to make something good come out of that year, he was going to do it.
Dean had just finished checking Sam's oil and closing the hood of his truck when Faith appeared. He seemed to recognize that they probably wanted to be alone, so he reluctantly went back inside after giving his brother a few more 'helpful' suggestions and making him promise (once again) that he wouldn't make any moves without Bobby.
Faith smiled after him and shook her head. "Wow, dude's kinda overbearing sometimes, ain't he?"
"He has his moments," Sam admitted. "He's worried. That usually makes him a lot worse."
"I'm not worried," Faith said sincerely. "You'll be fine. Just try to hurry back. It's probably gonna get a little hot around here."
"Yeah, looks that way. You be careful," he said seriously.
Faith shrugged and grinned. "You know me. I'll be right in the thick of it, but I'll still make out okay. I thrive on this shit. Bitch don't know who she's dealing with."
Sam returned her smile. "You're probably right about that," he agreed.
Faith slapped him lightly on the arm before telling him to take care. She wasn't so great at goodbyes. She was completely taken aback when he stepped forward, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her long and passionately.
When he finally let her go, she found herself unable to respond to his 'goodbye' or whatever the hell it was he said. She wasn't really listening. For the first time in her life she'd actually been blown away by a guy and by a simple kiss of all things. She found herself standing there, staring into space like some dork as he drove away.
XXXXXXXXXX
A/N: I don't think they ever told where the Campbell family library was hidden (as in what state). I'm assuming Kansas since that's where the Campbells were from, but I could be wrong. Let me know if you have evidence that suggests otherwise. I love little details .