(Author's Note: And I am home from my "vacation" after eight more hours in the car today! I am completely wiped out, so you're getting a somewhat shorter chapter of this than I'd planned. All that driving did give me a chance to think about lots of plotty things for upcoming stories, so I'll be jotting some notes tonight and hopefully some good will come of that. In any case, hope you enjoy this Scoobylicious chapter. Feedback is welcome and appreciated!
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Taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon still felt strange to Willow, but it really did feel nice, especially with all the long days and sleepless nights of the past month or so. The house on Revello had never been truly quiet with so many people staying in it. Even when the girls were sleeping, the feeling of so many living beings packed like sardines had played over Willow's skin like fingers running along her spine. And not good Kennedy-fingers either, bad, annoying ticklish fingers. Here in the hotel, everyone had more room to spread out, including this out-of-the way corner suite that had needed an afternoon of elbow grease to make habitable again. It had been more than worth it.
Yawning, Willow extricated herself from the grip of Kennedy-fingers, then Kennedy-arms, rolling herself out of the bed and leaving her girlfriend to stretch and sleep. The new Slayers were sleeping a lot in the daytime lately, which Giles said was not abnormal. Buffy said she'd have gladly gone nocturnal after becoming the Slayer if it hadn't been for the pesky matter of high school to cope with. Once their powers developed fully, they'd need less sleep overall and things would be easier. For now, Willow chose to see it as a blessing. Even though only half their crop of Potentials had survived, they could still make a lot of noise and commotion, especially now that they were accidentally breaking doorknobs and folding silverware left and right. In the eight days since they'd arrived in Los Angeles, the girls' wounds had healed, and they'd started to come to terms with everything that had happened to them down in the Hellmouth. Willow wasn't sure she understood such effortless resilience, but Buffy had been sixteen once too, had buried her watcher and burned down her school and still worried about clothes and boys for awhile longer. At the time, Willow hadn't appreciated how unusual that was.
She walked down the hallway towards the staircase, passing several Scooby rooms along the way. Giles had chosen to room on the second floor, exchanging isolation for convenience and fewer flights of stairs to climb, but Xander and Buffy had both picked rooms near Willow's, far from the maddening crowd. When she concentrated, Willow could feel them in their rooms, Buffy napping restlessly after a restless night, Xander awake but in no mood for company. He'd only just started coming out of his room at all day before yesterday. When he was out, he was friendly, jovial Xander, Scooby extraordinaire, friend to all mini-Slayers, but she could tell how much it cost him. Willow wished she could talk to him. She wished she had loved Anya more, so that Xander would feel like he could mourn with her, wished the same about Spike, sort of, just so Buffy wouldn't feel so alone. When Tara had died, Willow had been enraged by the cosmic joke that had let them fall back in love just before ripping Tara away forever. Now, seeing how it felt to lose a lover before that reconciliation, she was desperately grateful for what she'd had.
Buffy did the same thing as Xander in her own way, presenting herself as Mom-General Buffy when she was out, bossing the minis like a big sister or a drill sergeant, making sure they ate and slept and practiced the basic skills of Slaying over and over, then disappearing as soon as she couldn't cope with her own feelings anymore. Buffy wasn't resilient now the way she had been at sixteen, not with eight years of Slaying, dead friends and dead lovers, and the weight of heaven and hell on her shoulders. Faith had taken up a surprising amount of the slack, once it became apparent that Robin would recover. She was dividing her time between hospital and hotel, wrangling the new Slayers for chores and shopping, plus taking them out in small groups for the Slaying that was inevitably required. One Slayer tended to attract evil things naturally, fourteen of them in a single building was turning into the supernatural equivalent of a giant bug-zapping lantern. Faith was doing most of the zapping, but the girls were learning quickly.
As Willow descended the stairs, she caught wind of yummy smells coming from the kitchen. She peeked in to see the adorable Fred with a couple of the girls, Steph and Rona, if Willow remembered correctly. They were making tacos and laughing about something, though both Slayers looked up automatically when Willow walked in. Those reflexes were definitely getting better, and Willow didn't see a single smashed dish today. It was a good sign. She waved and passed on by. Angel was down in the basement for the day; Willow could feel the distinctive vampire tingle below her feet, but she traced the feeling of Slayer into his office and found Donna sitting at the desk, working carefully in a spiral-bound notebook. It was easier for Willow to remember Donna than some of the others because Donna was a secret nerd at heart and had a surprising talent for research. Giles had tapped her for a research assistant back in the last days of Sunnydale, and she was still helping out now.
Donna looked up when Willow came in, just like the others had. She gave the witch a polite smile. "Hi Willow, did you need that info on Ghora demons? I just finished it." Reaching for a second notebook, she pushed it across the desk. "There wasn't a lot in the books, but I talked to Wesley this morning and he gave me a little more. I'm not sure it's going to be what you need, though," she admitted.
"That was quick!" Willow commented, leafing through the pages. Donna's handwriting was scrawly at best, but Willow had years of experience reading arcane languages and cramped grimores, it was nothing she couldn't handle. "I'm not sure what I'm looking for yet. Just, you know, looking at all the options." She gave the young Slayer a self-deprecating shrug. "Never know when inspiration's gonna hit you between the eyes, right?" She leaned forward over the desk. "Whatcha working on now?"
"Oh, it's... you know, just a letter home." Donna drew the notebook back towards her, her pale cheeks flushing slightly. "I'm trying to write to my parents, but it's hard deciding what to say."
Willow blinked. "I didn't know you still had parents," she admitted. "I mean, it's good that you do, obviously, that's wonderful. Everybody should have parents, they're great. Most of the time! I just thought that most Potentials, with their Watchers and all that, at least that was how it was with Kendra and we never met many other Potentials-" Willow realized she was babbling and cut herself off. "Do they know?" she asked instead. "About... everything?"
Donna shook her head, hugging the notebook against her chest now. "My Watcher told me when I was thirteen, but he told me I shouldn't tell them, that it would upset them for no reason because I'd probably never be called. We did weekend training and I helped him research, and his wife would make me cookies and make sure I was reading enough good books. They were like my grandparents." Willow could see slow tears trickling down her cheeks. "But then all this happened, and there wasn't time to tell my parents anything. I made it look like I was just running away and didn't tell them why, and my Watcher gave me money and a car and told me he'd look after them. But the Bringers killed him," she whispered. "I want to go home, but I don't know what to say."
Willow sank down into the chair opposite the desk. "That's a tough one," she admitted. "I guess you probably can't just tell them what you've been doing this spring."
"No way." Donna shook her head again, drawing her knees to her chest so she was curled in Angel's big office chair. "They've always thought I'm a little flaky, but now they'd think I'm totally crazy. And... and if they did believe, it would just scare them. Everything about this is huge and scary, and I just wish I could go home and have none of this ever have happened."
"Yeah, I understand that," Willow commiserated. "But the whole knowing-about-vampires deal is kind of a one-way street, especially for Slayers." She glanced at the little pile of broken pencils set off to one side of the desk. "You're not ready to go home yet, kiddo. Slayers on their own don't last long, especially without being trained or having a Watcher. You've read some of the diaries, right?"
"Yeah," Donna grimaced. "I kind of wish I hadn't."
"It's pretty grim," Willow agreed. "But that's why we're changing it. It doesn't have to be that way anymore," she promised, leaning forward in her seat. "You don't have to be alone now. There's a lot of you now, and we're going to find all the Slayers and make sure they all get training and support, so that you don't have to spend all your time fighting and die before you're old enough to drink."
Donna furrowed her brow and cocked her head at Willow's declaration. "I can't decide if that makes me feel better or not, honestly," she admitted. "The dying thing... I don't want to die."
"Then we'll find ways to help you stay alive," Willow told her. "How about you write your folks a letter to tell them you're alive, but don't tell them exactly where you are for now? I'll email it for you so it can't be traced back here if they're looking, but you can put whatever personal stuff in it that you want so they know it's from you and you're safe. I'm sure they'll be happy to hear from you."
"I still have no idea what to tell them," Donna reminded her. "Maybe I've joined a cult or something. The Most Holy Order Of The Pointy Stick." She smiled just a little bit.
"I know the Moonies are out there, and the Krishnas," Willow mused. "Maybe we'll just be the Scoobies." She laughed.
"That's not going to be any easier to explain," Donna remarked.
"No, but you probably shouldn't say you joined a cult anyway. Maybe we can help you come up with a better story over tacos. Are you hungry?" Willow figured this was a safe bet. The mini-Slayers were always hungry.
Donna nodded and set her notebook aside to follow Willow back to the kitchen. More of the girls were emerging from their rooms now, drawn by the scent of carnitas and hot tortillas. Dawn was with them, letting herself be swept along with the tide as she advised a couple of the girls on how to keep their weapons in the closet without risking their clothes. She might not be a Slayer herself, but the younger Summers sister certainly knew how to handle them. Watching as dinner unfolded in a cheerfully raucous manner, Willow still worried for her friends, but allowed herself a few moments of hope that things were going to start getting better from here.