Chapter 5: The Witch Part 1
March 24, 1997 – Monday
Halliwell Manor
"So, do you know what Buffy or Dawn's powers are yet?" Phoebe asked her baby sister, who was preparing to orb to Sunnydale. Her curiosity was palpable, reflecting the concern of a family member eager to understand the developing abilities of her relatives.
"Not yet," Paige replied with a hint of frustration. "They just had their powers unbound a few days ago, Phoebe. They've yet to discover what triggers their powers or even what they are. Even Joyce was in the dark about it. Unlike us, their family didn't pass down powers through the generations. Each generation might have had new or different abilities, and there's no guarantee of inheritance." Her voice held a mix of empathy and practical concern, underscoring the complexity of their situation.
"We tried to test if they had Joyce's power," Paige continued, her gaze distant as she recalled their attempts. "Joyce's power is invisibility, but neither Dawn nor Buffy could access it. The trigger for Joyce's power didn't work for either of them."
"What is her power again?" Phoebe asked, genuinely interested in the specifics.
"Invisibility," Paige confirmed. "And since neither Dawn nor Buffy manifested it, we've had to move on and explore other possibilities."
"What about Buffy's Whitelighter powers?" Phoebe inquired, shifting the focus to another pressing concern.
"I've started with telekinetic orbing," Paige said thoughtfully, reminiscing about her own journey with the power. "That was my first ability, and it should be relatively easy for Buffy to grasp since I can guide her through it. After that, I'll introduce her to basic orbing techniques. The rest of the Whitelighter powers are going to be more challenging for her to learn. Thankfully, Leo will be helping with that. He'll teach Buffy about the Whitelighter abilities that I haven't fully mastered myself."
"How does she feel about Leo being her dad and having two half-brothers?" Piper asked as she walked into the kitchen, her tone reflecting a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Believe it or not, she's actually happy about it," Paige said with a smile. "From what I gather from Buffy, Joyce, and Dawn, while Buffy and Dawn loved Hank and vice versa, their relationship was strained primarily due to the divorce. I'm not sure if Joyce has even informed Hank that he isn't Buffy's biological father. Given the circumstances, it might be better not to bring it up."
"It may be better not to," Piper agreed, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "If Hank knew, he could potentially take Joyce to court over child support. Even though Leo is now mortal, he doesn't have a social security number, a bank account, or any way to hold a job since he passed away over fifty years ago. It would be in Joyce's best interest to keep this under wraps until Buffy graduates from high school."
"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," Paige said, nodding in agreement. "Well, I've got to get to Sunnydale."
"Have a good day," Piper and Phoebe said in unison as Paige prepared to leave. Their voices were tinged with warmth and well-wishes, underscoring the familial bonds that tied them together. Paige focused, and with a shimmer of light, she orbed out, leaving the kitchen to its quiet calm.
Sunnydale High School
Paige smiled warmly as she took in the sight of Buffy standing in front of her and Giles, clad in the iconic cheerleading outfit from Hemery High. The once-mimsy uniform now seemed imbued with a peculiar mix of nostalgia and youthful exuberance. The bright yellow and blue fabric, with its bold, contrasting colors, seemed to almost hum with an energy of its own, echoing the cheerleader's spirit from her high school days.
"This is madness," Giles said, his voice tinged with disbelief as he peered at Buffy with a mix of incredulity and concern. His usually composed demeanor seemed to falter slightly as he struggled to reconcile the sight before him with his expectations of the Slayer's role.
"You don't like the color," Buffy said, her voice light and teasing. She shifted her gaze to Paige, searching for a reaction. Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as she imagined Paige's reaction to her in the uniform. The image of Paige's hands gently removing the cheerleading outfit danced in her mind before she forcefully banished the thought, her cheeks flushing slightly.
"I what? I don't—Buffy, do you ignore everything I say? As a rule?" Giles wondered aloud, his frustration mounting. His brow furrowed in exasperation as he struggled to understand how Buffy could so easily disregard his concerns.
Buffy's smile broadened, a playful glint in her eyes. "No, I believe that's your trick. I told you I'm going out for the cheerleading squad."
"You have a sacred birthright, Buffy. You have been chosen to destroy vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness, not wave pom-poms at people. As the Watcher, I forbid it," Giles insisted, his voice firm and resolute. His sense of duty was palpable, and his attempt to impose his will was evident in the sternness of his tone.
"And you will stop her how?" Paige asked, her eyes flickering with a mixture of challenge and curiosity as she turned to glance at Giles. Her gaze was steady, as if daring him to come up with a viable solution.
Giles glared at Paige, his frustration evident as he shook his head in resignation. "I take it this was your idea, Paige?" he inquired, his tone laced with both irritation and a hint of begrudging acknowledgment.
"One thing my being a witch has taught me," Paige said, her voice thoughtful and imbued with a calm wisdom. "Is that it helps to have normal things outside of your calling, your destiny. If you can't live a normal life, or at least a semblance of a normal life, then what are you fighting for? I want Buffy to live to be eighty, ninety, even a hundred years old. But she won't escape her teens if she doesn't start living now." Her gaze softened as she spoke, her concern for Buffy's well-being shining through her words.
Giles let out a sigh, the weight of Paige's argument pressing down on him. The sigh was heavy with contemplation, a mix of reluctant acceptance and lingering disquiet about the path Buffy was choosing.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
"CHEERLEADING TRYOUTS," the sign proclaimed in bold, energetic letters, hanging above the entrance to the gym. Buffy, Dawn, Willow, Cordelia, and Xander stepped through the doors, their footsteps echoing off the polished wooden floor. The air inside was filled with the faint scent of chalk and sweat, mingling with the excitement of the day's event. Bright banners adorned the walls, and the gym was alive with the buzz of hopeful cheerleaders warming up, their voices a harmonious blend of nerves and anticipation.
"Giles didn't approve, huh?" Willow asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern as she adjusted her glasses and surveyed the scene with a hint of apprehension.
Buffy shook her head, her expression a blend of frustration and amusement. "He totally lost his water. We haven't even seen a vampire or a demon in a week. I'd say he should get a girlfriend if he wasn't so old. Now Paige, she's one hundred percent behind me. She gave Giles this whole speech about how I needed normal stuff to remind me what I had to live for, what I was saving the world for nightly." Buffy's smile was tinged with satisfaction, clearly relishing the support she had received from Paige.
"People scoff at things like school spirit," Xander said, his eyes roaming the gym with a sense of wonder. "But when you see these young women giving their all like this..." His gaze fell on Amber, who was performing a complex stretch with her feet splayed across two chairs. "... Oooh, stretchy. Where was I?" Xander's voice trailed off, momentarily captivated by the display.
Cordelia, unimpressed with Xander's wandering attention, lifted a delicate hand to his chin and gently turned his face toward her. Her touch was light but firm, a reminder of her presence and his place beside her. "Remember you're with me now," she said, her voice soft yet assertive.
Xander grinned, his heart skipping a beat at the simple gesture. He still marveled at how rescuing Cordelia from Jesse had shifted her perception of him. He hoped this newfound attention would endure. "That reminds me," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, silver I.D. bracelet. He carefully handed it to Cordelia with a gesture of earnest affection. "Here's a little good luck charm for the tryouts..."
"What is this?" Cordelia asked, her eyes widening in delight as a genuine smile curved her lips.
"What is that?" Willow echoed, peering over with interest.
Cordelia examined the bracelet, her gaze softening as she read the engraved message. "This is so sweet! 'Yours always...'" Her eyes sparkled with genuine warmth, touched by the sentiment.
"That was on there when I got it. Really. They all said that," Xander insisted, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.
Cordelia shook her head, the corner of her mouth twitching into a playful smirk. "Yeah, if that makes you feel better, sure." She then turned her attention back to the tryouts, her eyes narrowing as she observed Amber. The girl was balancing gracefully on one leg, holding the other straight up in the air. "Just look at Amber. Who does she think she is, a Laker Girl?"
"I heard she turned them down," Dawn said quietly, her voice barely audible over the murmur of the gathering crowd.
As the anticipation in the gym grew, three cheerleaders, clad in their uniforms of gleaming white and vivid red, approached the long table set up in the center of the floor. They moved with a practiced grace, each step radiating a blend of confidence and authority. They took their seats behind the table, their eyes scanning the room with a mix of professionalism and casual curiosity. The vibrant hum of excitement seemed to settle into a more focused, expectant silence as everyone prepared for the tryouts.
"Let's begin with..." one of the cheerleaders said, her voice cutting through the noise with a clear, commanding tone. She glanced down at the list in front of her and continued, "Amber Grove. If you're not auditioning, move off the floor."
In response, Dawn, Xander, Willow, Buffy, and Cordelia shuffled backward, their movements synchronized with a shared sense of nervous anticipation. The space around the table began to clear, leaving Amber and the cheerleaders as the focal point of the gym's activity.
"Hi Amy," Willow called out as she spotted a familiar face among the crowd. Her eyes lit up with recognition and warmth, the years of their childhood friendship evident in her cheerful tone.
"Hi," Amy replied, her voice a touch weary but genuine. She looked up from the table, meeting Willow's gaze with a mix of nostalgia and mild surprise.
"I didn't know you wanted to be a cheerleader. You lost a lot of weight," Willow remarked, her eyes taking in Amy's slimmer figure with a blend of admiration and concern.
Amy nodded, her expression a mixture of determination and self-consciousness. "Had to," she said simply, the words carrying an undertone of personal struggle and commitment.
"Do you know Buffy and Dawn?" Willow asked, gesturing toward the sisters with a friendly wave of her hand.
"Hi," Amy said, turning her attention to Buffy and Dawn with a forced smile. Her greeting was polite but lacked the warmth of genuine enthusiasm. "Oh, how I hate this, let me count the ways."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Paige sighed deeply, her breath escaping in a soft, almost mournful whisper. Giles, his brow furrowed and his expression stern, shook his head at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Paige," he began, his voice carrying a weight of weary concern. "I understand the need for Buffy to have a semblance of a normal life. But the reality is, she will never truly experience one. You should understand this better than anyone, given your own dual nature as a Charmed One—half-witch, half-Whitelighter. Buffy herself will likely never live past her eighteenth birthday."
"What I understand is this," Paige retorted, her tone infused with a blend of resolve and deep-seated emotion. "It's about giving and giving until there's nothing left. I know what it's like to lose family to a demon. My eldest sister, Prue, died just days before I was reunited with my birth family. You should have seen Piper afterwards; she was consumed with anger and grief. She nearly became a Fury. Yes, Buffy needs to keep her calling and destiny in perspective, but she also needs, as I've already said, something outside of slaying—a reminder of what she is fighting to save."
Her eyes, reflecting the pain of her own past, softened slightly as she continued, "For me, that reminder has been my sisters, my brother-in-law, my nephews. I look back at what happened to Joyce. She was best friends with my birth mother, and when my birth mother died, Joyce, overwhelmed by grief, bound Buffy, Dawn, and her own powers. She did it because she couldn't handle the weight of it all. She didn't want her daughters to suffer as she had. That was a mistake; she should have trained them in the use of their powers, not taken them away." Paige's voice carried a note of sadness and frustration. "What I'm trying to say is that while there will always be things demanding her attention as a Slayer, a witch, or even a Whitelighter, if Buffy is to live past her eighteenth birthday, she needs things that ground her, things that give her a reason to live beyond the fight."
Giles let out a heavy sigh, the sound resonating with a mixture of understanding and reluctant acceptance. "I do see where you're coming from. But this is a crucial time for Buffy."
"I'm not suggesting," Paige interjected firmly, "that we stop training her or that she stops patrolling. Vampires and demons will always be out there. For every one Buffy vanquishes, another will rise somewhere in the world. We will continue to train her to be prepared for her destiny. But what happens once her destiny has been fulfilled?" Her eyes, earnest and pleading, searched Giles's face for an answer.
"Again, I understand your point," Giles said slowly, his voice laced with both empathy and uncertainty. "But I don't have a definitive answer for that right now. At this moment, I think it's best to take it one day at a time. If she makes it onto the cheerleading squad, let's use that as a test. We can see if she's able to balance normal activities and a semblance of a normal life with her duties as the Slayer, a witch, and a Whitelighter."
"Fair enough," Paige conceded, her voice carrying a hint of cautious optimism. "But if she can balance it."
"Then I would be more than willing to allow her some freedoms outside of her calling," Giles agreed, his expression softening with a flicker of hope.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
As everyone watched Amber's cheerleading routine, a curious haze began to creep around her pom-poms. At first, it was a subtle distortion, like a mirage wavering in the heat of the moment. But then, tendrils of smoke began to curl and billow from the brightly colored pompoms, thickening and darkening as they rose into the air.
"What the ...?" Buffy's voice was filled with shock and confusion, her eyes widening as she stared at the unfolding scene.
"That girl's on fire," Willow said, her tone a mix of alarm and disbelief as she watched the smoke billow and swirl around Amber.
"Enough with the hyperbole," Cordelia said dismissively, her back turned to Amber as she adjusted her own posture, oblivious to the growing crisis. "You're just trying to over-dramatize—"
Her words cut off abruptly as Amber's pom-poms dropped to the floor, the smoke now clearly emanating from her own body. The crowd gasped collectively as Amber's hands and forearms suddenly burst into bright, searing flames. The fire crackled and roared, a violent contrast to the otherwise mundane setting of the gym. Amber's scream pierced the air, a high-pitched, terrified cry that echoed off the walls and sent shivers down the spines of everyone present.
Buffy's reflexes kicked in instantly. With no time to think, she bolted toward a large Razorbacks banner that hung prominently on the wall of the gym. Her movements were a blur of determined urgency as she grabbed the banner and tore it down with a fierce yank. The fabric, emblazoned with the school's emblem, unfurled in her hands, and she pivoted, sprinting toward Amber.
Without hesitation, Buffy tackled Amber to the ground, using the banner to wrap around her and smother the flames. The fabric, though it wasn't perfect, provided a crucial barrier between the intense heat and Amber's scorched skin. As Buffy worked frantically to extinguish the fire, her own breath came in ragged gasps. Her mind raced with a barrage of disjointed, vivid images.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
"I've been slaying vampires for more than a year now," Buffy said, her voice carrying a note of frustration as she and the others gathered in the library. The shelves around them were lined with ancient tomes and arcane artifacts, their dusty spines a testament to the knowledge accumulated over countless years. Buffy's tone was serious, her face etched with concern. "I've seen some pretty cringeworthy stuff, but nobody's hands ever got toasted before."
"I imagine not," Giles responded, his voice steady and contemplative. His eyes, framed by his wire-rimmed glasses, were filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern. The flickering light from the library's lamps cast shadows across his face, highlighting the deep lines of experience etched into his features.
"So, this is not a vampire problem," Buffy concluded, her gaze shifting between Giles and Paige, seeking clarity. The unsettling memory of Amber's fiery predicament lingered at the edge of her thoughts.
Paige shook her head, her expression grave. "Sounds like one of two possible explanations," she said, her tone measured and deliberate. "One: spontaneous combustion. And two: a witch—specifically, a dark witch."
"Spontaneous human combustion is rare and scientifically unexplainable," Giles said, his voice taking on a scholarly tone as he delved into the details. "But there have been cases reported for hundreds of years. Usually, all that's left is a pile of ashes, the evidence of the phenomenon being alarmingly minimal."
"Which is why I mentioned a witch," Paige interjected. Her eyes were intense, reflecting a mixture of worry and resolve. "Buffy would never have had the chance to save Amber if she had gone up in flames too quickly. Spontaneous combustion would have consumed her far too rapidly."
"We still need to rule it out, though," Buffy said, her voice betraying a hint of hesitation. The strange and disturbing images that had flooded her mind during the rescue now weighed heavily on her. She was reluctant to reveal them, unsure of their meaning and how they might fit into the puzzle. "Is there any common denominator in cases of spontaneous combustion?"
"Rage," Giles stated, his voice steady as he shared his knowledge. "In most cases, the person who combusted was terribly angry or deeply upset. The phenomenon seems to be linked with extreme emotional distress."
"So, Paige could be correct," Cordelia said, her voice cutting through the academic discussion with a sharp, practical edge. "What if Amber is a witch, like Buffy, and has the power to set herself on fire?"
"It's possible," Paige said, nodding thoughtfully. Her gaze was focused, her mind racing through the implications of this new possibility.
"So, I should get the skinny on Amber," Buffy said, her tone resolute and pragmatic. "See if she's had any colorful episodes before." The weight of the situation pressed down on her, making her words sound more like a mission statement than a casual remark.
Willow's face brightened, her eyes lighting up with a familiar spark of enthusiasm. "That means hacking illegally into the school's computer system—at last, something I can do," she said with a grin, her fingers already moving toward the computer station. The glow from the screen reflected in her glasses, casting a determined shadow over her features. She settled into the chair, her fingers poised over the keyboard, ready to dive into the digital depths of Amber's school records.
"I'll ask around about her," Xander volunteered, his voice carrying a note of confidence. His gaze swept over the group with a sense of purpose, his shoulders squared and his stance firm.
"Guys, you don't have to get involved," Dawn interjected, her voice tinged with concern as she looked at Willow and Xander. Her brow was furrowed, a reflection of her protective instincts toward her friends and her sister.
"What do you mean? We're a team!" Xander exclaimed, his eyes widening with a mix of surprise and determination. "Aren't we a team?"
Willow nodded in agreement, her expression mirroring Xander's enthusiasm. "Yeah, Buffy's the Slayer, and we're like the Slayerettes."
"I don't want you putting yourselves in danger," Buffy said firmly, her voice carrying a maternal undertone as she sided with her sister. Her concern was evident in the tightness of her jaw and the softening of her eyes as she addressed her friends.
Xander paused, considering a witty comeback that might lighten the mood. However, he glanced at Cordelia, who was watching him with a mixture of admiration and expectation. The thought of a clever retort making Cordelia question his commitment—or worse, diminishing the idealized image she had of him as her knight in shining armor—gave him pause. Cordelia was the first girl to show genuine interest in him, aside from Willow, whom he regarded more as a sister than a romantic prospect.
"Buffy," Paige interjected, her voice steady and clear. "You remember what I said to you a couple of days ago about the Cleaners erasing memories?"
"And how they hadn't erased Willow and Xander's, which might mean they have a role in mine and Dawn's destinies?" Buffy asked, her tone a mixture of weariness and contemplation. She looked at her friends, her heart swelling with gratitude. "I'm glad you guys want to help. We can use all the help we can get." She then turned her gaze to Giles and Paige, her eyes reflecting a blend of hope and concern. "What if we find out Amber didn't cause this herself?"
"Then we determine who the witch is that did," Paige said with a resolute nod. Her expression was one of grim determination, her eyes reflecting a readiness to confront whatever dark forces were at play. "And deal with her accordingly."
Halliwell Manor
That evening, the warm glow of the fireplace cast a soft light over the cozy living room of the Manor. The room, with its plush furniture and rich, wooden furnishings, exuded a sense of comfort and home. Paige sat with her sisters, Piper and Phoebe, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames as they gathered to discuss the troubling events of the day.
"You believe she wasn't telling you something?" Piper asked, her voice a blend of concern and curiosity. She leaned forward slightly, her hands resting on her knees as she looked at Paige with earnest eyes. The intensity of the situation seemed to hang in the air, a palpable tension that matched the crackling of the fire.
Paige nodded, her expression troubled. "It was like she was holding something back. There was something more that happened during the cheerleading tryouts, beyond just the girl catching on fire. It's as if something else shocked her, something she didn't want to reveal."
Phoebe, her eyes reflecting the light of the fire with a thoughtful gleam, interjected. "Could it be possible," she began slowly, her tone cautious yet probing, "that Buffy is the witch you and she are after?"
"That she set Amber ablaze?" Paige repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. She shook her head, the notion seeming implausible. "I can't believe she would do that intentionally."
"What if she didn't," Piper said, her gaze thoughtful as she considered another angle. "What if she is a Firestarter? Remember Tyler? He couldn't control his power at first either. He accidentally set fire to our own couch."
Paige sighed, the weight of the possibilities settling heavily on her shoulders. "It's possible," she admitted reluctantly. The idea was unsettling, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility. Her thoughts were already racing ahead to the implications of such a scenario. "I'll go talk to her." With a decisive gesture, she focused her energy and orbed out, her form dissolving into shimmering lights as she disappeared from the living room.
Summers Home
Crates were scattered across the kitchen floor of the Summers' home, their wooden sides chipped and scratched from frequent moves. The once-orderly kitchen now resembled a miniature warehouse, with stacks of cardboard boxes and packing materials cluttering the space. Joyce Summers, her sleeves rolled up and a determined expression on her face, worked methodically with a crowbar to pry open each crate. The sharp, metallic sound of the crowbar scraping against the wood was punctuated by the occasional thud as the boxes were opened.
She carefully inspected the contents of each crate, her practiced eyes scanning over the array of artifacts packed inside. She made meticulous notes on her inventory list, ensuring that every item—whether it was a carved mask, a beaded necklace, or a woven tapestry—was accounted for and in good condition. The tribal art display she was preparing for was an important event, and she wanted everything to be perfect.
"Hey, Mom," Buffy and Dawn called out as they entered the kitchen, their schoolbooks clutched in their hands. They dropped their bags onto the table with a collective thump, the sound briefly interrupting the steady rhythm of their mother's work.
"Hi. How was school?" Joyce asked, her face was flushed with the effort of opening crates, and a smear of dust marked her cheek. She greeted her daughters with a warm, albeit slightly distracted, smile.
"A reverent joy," Buffy replied with a hint of sarcasm, her gaze sweeping over the cluttered kitchen. "What's all this?" she asked, taking in the disarray of packing materials and scattered artifacts.
"It's for the tribal art display," Joyce explained, her attention returning to the task at hand. Dawn picked up a statue from one of the crates, her fingers gently tracing the intricate carvings. The statue was a striking piece of craftsmanship, with bold, geometric patterns and vibrant colors that hinted at its cultural significance.
"Cool," the sisters said in unison, their voices filled with genuine interest as they observed the unique artifacts.
Buffy and Dawn settled into their usual seats at the table, their curiosity piqued as they watched their mother work. Joyce, absorbed in her inventory check, remained focused on her task, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"We had tryouts today," Buffy finally said, breaking the silence and looking over at her mother.
"Great! How'd it go?" Joyce asked, her voice upbeat and encouraging. She continued to jot down notes, her eyes still scanning the contents of the crate.
"Buffy didn't actually get to try out," Dawn said, her tone shifting to one of concern. "There was an accident."
"Pretty fierce competition, though," Buffy added, her tone a blend of resignation and determination. She glanced around at the scattered crates and packing materials, feeling the weight of her recent disappointment. Despite her optimism, the uncertainty of her situation lingered like a shadow.
"I know you'll do fine. Keep on plugging. Just have to get back on the horse," Joyce responded, her voice filled with encouragement. She continued to wrestle with a particularly stubborn crate, the crowbar slipping slightly as she tried to pry it open. The creaking wood and the occasional clang of metal against metal punctuated her efforts.
"Mom?" Buffy's voice broke through the sound of the struggle, her curiosity piqued by her mother's focused but distracted demeanor.
Joyce finally looked up, her face flushed from the exertion and dust from the crates settling on her skin. "Yeah?" she replied, her tone reflecting a moment of respite from her busy task.
"What was I trying out for?" Buffy asked, her brow furrowing slightly as she tried to recall the details of her recent activities. She was met with a slightly perplexed look from her mother.
"Um ... some activity?" Joyce responded, her voice trailing off as she struggled to recall the specifics. Her expression was one of genuine confusion, her focus clearly divided between her daughter's question and the unpacking task at hand. "I have no idea, I'm sorry."
Buffy couldn't help but smile at her mother's bemused response. "That's okay. Your platitudes are good for all occasions." Her smile was affectionate, a mix of understanding and amusement at her mother's scattered state.
"I'm distracted," Joyce admitted with a sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly as she glanced around at the chaos of the kitchen. "I've got a lot of inventory to go through here. This is the gallery's first major show. I'm just trying to get everything sorted before the opening."
She looked at her daughters, her eyes carrying a blend of apology and urgency. "Buffy, would you mind giving me a hand? I could really use an extra set of hands right now."
"Would it be considered personal gain?" Buffy asked with a playful tilt of her head, her tone light but tinged with curiosity.
"Maybe a little," Joyce conceded with a small laugh, the stress of the moment momentarily easing. "But how else are you going to learn to control your Whitelighter powers if you don't practice them?"
Buffy nodded with a sense of purpose and extended her hand toward the crate. "Lid," she called out, her voice steady and clear. In response, the lid of the crate orbed out before reappearing in her outstretched hand. She then carefully set it down on the table next to the crate, her movements precise and controlled.
"That's very good, Buffy," Dawn observed with a note of admiration in her voice. Her eyes widened slightly as she watched her sister's effortless use of her Whitelighter abilities. "I wish I could do that," she added, a hint of wistfulness coloring her tone.
"It was cheerleading tryouts," Buffy said, trying to shift the focus away from her abilities. Her mind was still on the day's events, the sense of competition and the mysterious incident with Amber still fresh in her thoughts.
"Oh!" Joyce exclaimed, her face lighting up with understanding. "Good. I'm glad you're taking that up again," she said, her relief evident as she momentarily forgot about the chaos of unpacking. Just then, Paige materialized in the middle of the kitchen with a burst of shimmering light, her arrival abrupt and unexpected. "Paige?" Joyce said, her surprise apparent as she looked up from her inventory.
"I have to ask Buffy something," Paige said, her tone urgent but measured. She directed her attention to Buffy with a serious expression. "When Amber caught on fire, were you doing anything in particular?"
"What do you mean?" Dawn interjected; her confusion evident. "Buffy was standing beside me."
"Piper and Phoebe had a thought that it might be possible that you are a Firestarter," Paige explained. The mention of the term made Joyce's eyes widen in shock, and she brought a hand to her face in disbelief, her fingers pressing against her temple as if to steady herself.
"Mom?" Buffy and Dawn said in unison, their concern growing as they looked at Joyce.
"Firestarters are very rare witches," Joyce explained, her voice tinged with a mix of awe and apprehension. "Traditionally, they were used to guard the Source." Her words hung in the air, the weight of the revelation sinking in.
"Which is no longer the case since Piper, Phoebe, and I vanquished the Source," Paige added, her tone resolute as she continued. Her eyes remained fixed on Buffy, waiting for her response. "Buffy, were you angry at Amber?"
"No," Buffy said firmly, her brow furrowing with genuine confusion. "Why would I be?"
"I don't know," Paige admitted with a sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly as she considered the possibility. "But a new power..."
"But we haven't discovered what my witch power is yet," Buffy interjected, her voice tinged with frustration. She felt a sense of unease as she considered the notion of a power she hadn't yet fully understood or controlled.
"Well, was there anything unusual that happened during that time?" Paige asked, her tone shifting to one of careful inquiry. She was clearly trying to piece together any small detail that might help in understanding the incident with Amber.
Buffy thought for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she tried to recall the events with clarity. "Well, I had a Slayer dream while awake," she said slowly, her voice carrying a note of uncertainty. The term "Slayer dream" felt like a jarring concept, one that didn't quite fit with her current understanding of her powers.
"A Slayer dream?" Paige asked, her interest piqued. She leaned in slightly, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern.
"Merrick told Buffy," Dawn chimed in, her voice carrying a tone of recall. "When Buffy mentioned she had dreams, mostly of past Slayers who had fought against Lothos, Merrick explained that these were Slayer dreams. He said every Slayer experiences them."
Paige's eyes widened slightly as she processed this new piece of information. "I wonder," she said thoughtfully, her mind clearly working through the implications. "I'll be right back." Without another word, she focused her energy and orbed out of the room, leaving behind a swirl of shimmering lights.
Giles Apartment
Paige appeared in the middle of the living room of Giles's apartment, her arrival marked by a burst of shimmering light that quickly faded, leaving her standing with an air of urgency. "Rupert," she said, her voice carrying a hint of both determination and concern.
Giles, who had been engrossed in a heavy tome, looked up with a start. His expression shifted from surprise to curiosity as he registered Paige's sudden appearance. "Paige, what brings you by?" he asked, setting the book aside and pushing his glasses up his nose.
"Do Slayers get prophetic dreams of either the past or the future?" Paige asked, diving straight into the matter at hand. Her voice was clear, her words carefully chosen as she sought specific information.
Giles frowned, his brow furrowing in thought. "Not that I'm aware of. Why?" he replied, his tone indicating both interest and a hint of skepticism.
"Dawn said that Buffy experienced what were called Slayer dreams," Paige explained, her eyes meeting Giles's with an earnest gaze. "According to Merrick, every Slayer gets them."
"And these dreams are prophetic in nature?" Giles asked, leaning forward slightly as he tried to grasp the full scope of the situation.
Paige nodded, the movement slow and deliberate. She lowered herself into one of the plush armchairs, her posture reflecting a mix of fatigue and determination. "That's right," she confirmed. "They seem to be visions of past events or future possibilities."
Giles's mind raced as he processed this new piece of information. "I would hazard to guess we may have discovered what Buffy's power is," he said thoughtfully. The realization seemed to dawn on him, his eyes widening slightly as he considered the implications.
"You think she has the power of premonition?" Paige asked, her voice carrying a note of both surprise and curiosity. "But how did she have these so-called prophetic dreams before her powers were unbound?"
Giles tapped his chin thoughtfully, his gaze distant as he mulled over the question. "When Buffy became the Slayer," he theorized, "whatever it is that makes her a Slayer might have found a way around the spell that bound her powers. It's possible that the essence of her Slayer abilities is strong enough to override or bypass such spells, allowing her to access these prophetic dreams even before her powers were fully unleashed."
"If that is true, you may be right," Paige said, her voice laced with a mix of revelation and concern. "Buffy had a premonition when she touched Amber today."
Giles's brow furrowed deeper as he absorbed the new piece of information. "Why do you say that?" he asked, his tone reflecting both curiosity and the need for clarification.
"Because she mentioned having a Slayer dream while awake during the tryouts," Paige explained, her eyes locked onto Giles with a sense of urgency. Her words carried the weight of newfound understanding, and she leaned forward slightly, as if the gravity of the situation required her full attention.
"Did she seem a little hesitant to you when we were talking about this girl, Amber?" Giles asked, his tone shifting to one of critical analysis. His gaze was sharp, searching for any signs of uncertainty that might have indicated something more profound was at play.
"That's exactly what got me coming back to Sunnydale tonight," Paige said, her voice carrying the strain of recent revelations. "I was discussing the situation with my sisters, and they speculated that Buffy might be a Firestarter. When I spoke with Buffy and Dawn, Buffy revealed that she had one of these so-called Slayer dreams."
Giles's eyes widened slightly, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place as he processed Paige's account. "You should go back and ask Buffy about this premonition," he suggested, his tone resolute. "It might lead us to uncover the true cause behind the attack on Amber."
Paige nodded in agreement, her face set with determination. "Agreed," she said firmly. "I'll get back to her right away." With a decisive movement, she focused her energy and orbed out of the room, leaving behind a faint shimmer of light.
Summers Home
Paige appeared in the kitchen with a flash of shimmering light, only to find it empty. Her heart quickened as she moved through the house, her senses alert. She eventually found her charges in the living room, engaged in a quiet discussion. "I think we know what Buffy's witch power is," Paige said as she entered, her voice carrying a note of certainty. "And she has had it since she was called as a Slayer."
Joyce looked up, her expression a mixture of curiosity and confusion. "What are you talking about?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "Buffy's powers, as well as mine and Dawn's, were bound, remember?"
Paige took a deep breath, her gaze shifting between the sisters. "Rupert theorized that whatever made Buffy a Slayer found a loophole in the binding spell," she explained, her tone steady. "It gave her the power of Premonition in the form of a dream. Rupert told me there is no such thing as Slayer dreams. It seems that Merrick may have, well, not lied because he didn't know the truth, but told you the only plausible explanation he could come up with—that the Slayer had given you these dreams."
Buffy's eyes widened, her expression one of dawning comprehension. "So that's what my power is, premonition?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of relief and apprehension.
"Yes," Paige confirmed. She watched as Buffy processed the information, her own expression reflecting a blend of concern and empathy. "You can see the future and, on rare occasions, the past. Just like when you faced Lothos. Buffy, I have to ask, what is it you saw?"
Buffy hesitated, her face reflecting the struggle to articulate a vision that had been both vivid and elusive. "I'm not entirely sure," she said slowly. "I saw a person, maybe a girl, but I couldn't tell for sure. The girl wore a black cloak with the hood up, and she was casting a spell of some sort. I didn't hear the actual words."
Joyce's expression turned thoughtful, her eyes narrowing as she considered the implications. "It sounds like it might be a witch," she said. "Someone who wanted to protect herself from Buffy's power or another witch who had the power of premonition. So, she hid what she looked like to be on the safe side."
Author's Note: I had debated giving Buffy another power, an active power instead of a passive power. But when it came to the episode The Witch I knew with Buffy and Dawn being witches that alone would change things. For one Giles' test to detect a witch. There was never a mention in Charmed of a way to test to see if someone was a witch, doesn't mean there wasn't one either of course. So how would I work around that issue, then I thought about the Slayer dreams, which Buffy had in the early seasons (in later seasons they pretty much disappear) and I thought I'd use my explanation that I used in Another Halliwell where the Slayer Dreams are actually her Premonition power acting while she was asleep. This gets Buffy the information she needs to find out Amy is the witch later in this arc.