Chapter 5: Witch Part 1
March 17, 1997 – Monday
SunnyHaven
Marie woke to the tantalizing aroma of breakfast wafting through the house, a symphony of sizzling bacon, fresh eggs, and the rich scent of brewing coffee. She stretched languidly, a smile curling her lips as she realized that Clay was already up and about. The warm sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room, filling her with a sense of contentment and anticipation for the day ahead.
After dressing, she made her way to the kitchen, where the cheerful clatter of pots and pans greeted her. Buffi, Savannah, and Clay were gathered around, their faces animated with morning energy. She walked over to Clay, planting a gentle kiss on his lips, her eyes twinkling as she searched for her twin children.
"So, anything exciting happening today?" she asked, her voice light with curiosity.
"In the living room with Anne, watching some cartoon," Clay replied with a smile. "Then Buffy and I are going to take them for a run after breakfast."
Marie nodded thoughtfully, her mind drifting to the unique inheritance of her children. Both Logan and Joyce had inherited the werewolf gene from her and Clay. Buffi's youngest daughter, Anne, had similarly inherited the gene from Buffi and Nick. Jeremy, the current leader of the North American werewolf Pack, had explained that before Joyce and Anne, no hereditary female werewolves were known to exist—an anomaly in their world. This made their children exceptionally rare, a new chapter in the lore of werewolves.
Buffi caught her attention, her expression shifting to one of nostalgia. "On what's happening with my past self. This is when I tried out for cheerleading and when both Faith and I had that spell cast upon us that almost killed us."
"Is this when you got that cheerleading outfit I destroyed?" Marie asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.
Buffi smiled, a mixture of amusement and fondness. "Yes. And if you don't mind replacing it, I would be much appreciated."
"I will see if I can get one without anyone noticing," Marie promised, her mind already devising a plan.
Sunnydale High School
In the Library, Marie stood next to Giles as he stared incredulously at the cheerleading outfit Buffy was wearing. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the large windows, casting long shadows across the rows of bookshelves. The scent of aged paper and leather-bound volumes filled the air, creating a stark contrast to the bright and peppy attire Buffy sported.
Giles was beside himself, his face etched with deep concern. "This is madness," he exclaimed, his voice a mixture of frustration and worry. "What can you have been thinking? You are the Slayer! Lives depend upon you!" He began pacing, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet library. "I make allowances for your youth, but I expect a certain amount of responsibility, and instead of which you enslave yourself to this, this..." He stopped pacing, his gaze fixed on Buffy. "Cult?"
"You don't like the color," Buffy said, her tone playful as she glanced toward Faith, who rolled her eyes in response.
Giles sighed heavily and pushed the library cart to the counter. "I what? I don't," he replied, his tone growing more exasperated. "Buffy, do you ignore everything I say? As a rule?"
"No," Faith chimed in with a smirk, "that's your trick."
Buffy skipped in front of him, her cheerleading skirt swishing. "I told you I'm going out for the cheerleading squad," she added, striking a pose that accentuated her carefree attitude.
"Faith, Buffy, you both have a sacred birthright," Giles said, looking back and forth between the sisters, his eyes pleading for understanding. "You both were chosen to destroy vampires. You were not chosen to wave pom-poms at people, Buffy. Nor were you chosen to do whatever fool thing you have in her head, Faith. As the Watcher, I forbid it."
"And you'll be stopping us how?" Faith challenged, her voice laced with defiance.
"Dyeh, uh, well," Giles stammered, clearly taken aback, as he sat on the edge of the library table and crossed his arms. "By appealing to your common sense, if such a creature exists."
Marie laughed, the sound a bright contrast to the tension in the room. "That has to be the funniest thing you've ever said, Giles."
"Faith and I'll still have time to fight the forces of evil, okay? But we both want to have a life. We both want to do something normal. Something safe," Buffy said, her voice resolute as she headed for the door, the afternoon light casting a halo around her determined figure.
"Which is why I am trying out for the basketball team," Faith added, her steps echoing Buffy's resolve as she turned to follow her sister. The camaraderie between them was palpable, their shared determination adding weight to their strides.
Giles watched them go, his heart heavy with a mixture of worry and reluctant admiration. When the doors to the library closed behind Faith and Buffy, he turned to Marie, his expression one of bewildered frustration. "Marie, why are you supportive of this?"
Marie's smile was gentle but knowing. "Because it's part of their path. What is about to happen has to happen," she replied, her voice tinged with a wisdom that spoke of unseen currents and fated events. "Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to go meet Savannah and Rei, and we're going to watch Buffy try out."
She turned gracefully, her movements imbued with a serene confidence, and walked out of the library. The scent of old books and the faint echo of her footsteps lingered in the air, leaving Giles staring after her in confusion, caught between his protective instincts and the enigmatic assurance of Marie's words.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
In the gym, cheerleader tryouts were about to start. The room buzzed with energy as girls stretched and practiced, their movements a blur of athleticism and grace. The air was filled with the rhythmic sounds of back handsprings, cartwheels, and walking handstands, each girl pushing herself to showcase her best. One particularly agile girl executed a flawless roundoff followed by a back handspring, drawing admiring glances.
Buffy, Willow, and Xander came through the door, their expressions a mix of curiosity and excitement. "Giles didn't approve, huh?" Willow asked as she, Faith, Buffy, Xander, Savannah, and Rei entered the bustling gym.
"He totally lost his water," Buffy said with a sigh, rolling her eyes at the memory of Giles' reaction.
"We haven't even seen a vampire in a week," Faith added, her tone laced with a hint of rebellion. "I'd say he should get a girlfriend if he wasn't so old."
"I wish your aunt Marie was our watcher sometimes," Buffy said, casting a hopeful glance at Savannah.
Savannah smiled warmly, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Thing is, Aunt Marie won't be here forever. The plan was to stay until your graduation, and then we'd move on," she explained, her voice soft but resolute. Buffy, Faith, Xander, Rei, and Willow looked at her quizzically, sensing there was more she wasn't saying. "I can't say more. As it is, I've said too much. Remember, there are things that Aunt Marie and I are not allowed to disclose, and there are things you have to discover for yourselves before we can say anything. Believe me, I hate that we have to do it this way, but there are reasons. Reasons you will eventually understand, a long time from now."
"We're behind you, though," Faith said, her eyes locking with her sister's, a silent promise of support.
"People scoff at things like school spirit, but when you see these young women giving their all like this..." Xander's voice trailed off as he watched Amber, one of the girls trying out. She was stretched across a pair of chairs in an impressively low split, her flexibility on full display. "...Oooh, stretchy." Realizing he had been staring, he turned back to his friends, who were all female and eyeing him with varying degrees of amusement.
"Where was I?" he asked, trying to regain his composure.
"You were pretending that seeing scantily-clad girls in revealing postures was a spiritual experience," Savannah said with a smirk, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
"What do you mean, pretending?" Xander shot back, feigning indignation as he pulled out an I.D. bracelet and handed it to Buffy. "Oh, hey. Here's a little good luck thing for the tryouts..."
"What is this?" Buffy asked, charmed by the thoughtful gift.
"What is that?" Willow and Faith asked in unison, their brows furrowed in curiosity.
"This is so sweet!" Buffy exclaimed, her smile bright as she fastened the bracelet around her wrist, feeling a wave of warmth from the gesture.
Not far away, Cordelia watched with a critical eye as Amber stood on one leg, holding the other straight up in the air with impressive balance and flexibility. "Just look at Amber," she muttered, her tone dripping with disdain. "Who does she think she is, a Laker Girl?"
"I heard she turned them down," Willow said, her voice tinged with incredulity.
Rei rolled her eyes, having remained mostly quiet up until now. She, like Xander, had been distracted—though her distraction was Buffy. "Actually, that was just a rumor, Willow," she corrected, her tone matter-of-fact. "Started by Amber herself."
At the front of the gym, a cheerleader with a clipboard looked over the list in her hands. "Let's begin with... Amber Grove. If you're not auditioning, please move off the floor," she announced, her voice authoritative as she took charge of the proceedings.
"Hi Amy," Willow said, her face lighting up as she spotted an old friend, Amy Madison, amidst the hopefuls.
Amy smiled warmly, her eyes reflecting both excitement and a hint of nervousness. "Hi."
"I didn't know you wanted to be a cheerleader," Willow remarked, noting the significant change in her friend's appearance just as Marie approached beside her. "You lost a lot of weight."
"Had to," Amy said, her tone revealing a hint of resignation. "Hi, Marie," she greeted the teacher with a polite nod.
"Hello, Ms. Madison," Marie replied, her eyes warm and encouraging.
Savannah leaned closer to Marie, her voice a soft whisper. "Did you get it?" she asked, knowing that Marie had been tasked with finding a cheerleading outfit to replace the one she had destroyed in her youth. Marie nodded in confirmation, a secretive smile playing on her lips, a glimmer of mischief dancing in her eyes.
"Do you know Buffy?" Willow asked Amy, breaking the brief silence that had settled over their small group.
"Hi," Amy said to Buffy and Faith, her expression friendly despite the anxiety of the tryouts.
"Hi," Buffy and Faith replied in unison.
"Oh, how I hate this, let me count the ways," Amy said, referring to the nerve-wracking wait that came with the audition process. Buffy smiled, obviously warming to Amy's honesty, appreciating the shared sentiment.
As if on cue, Amber began her routine. The gymnasium fell silent, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. Amber's performance was a display of sheer athleticism and precision. She started off with a needle-split lift, her leg stretching high above her head with perfect balance. This was followed by a double spin, her body twirling gracefully in the air before landing softly on the polished floor. Without missing a beat, she launched herself into a jumping double spin, the force of her leap propelling her higher than seemed possible.
After landing, Amber seamlessly transitioned into an aerial, her body flipping gracefully through the air without touching the ground. She followed this with a series of rapid cartwheels, her movements fluid and effortless. The routine continued with jazz slides, her feet gliding smoothly across the floor, leading into a single spin.
Everyone in the gym was intent on watching her, their eyes glued to her every move, the tension and admiration palpable in the air.
"She trained with Benson—he's the best coach money can buy," Amy said, a touch of envy in her voice as she watched Amber execute her routine flawlessly.
"They have cheerleading coaches?" Buffy asked, her surprise evident. The concept of specialized training for cheerleading was clearly new to her.
"Why not?" Faith interjected with a shrug. "They have coaches for everything, or did you forget your Dorothy Hamill phase and the coach Mom and Dad paid for?"
"You skated?" Rei asked, turning to Buffy with interest.
Buffy nodded; her expression tinged with nostalgia. "She was even training for the Regionals," Faith chimed in, her voice carrying a mixture of pride and sadness. "Mom and Dad pulled her out about the time they started fighting."
"Anyways," Amy said, drawing their focus back, "I train with my mom—three hours in the morning, three at night."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "That kind of quality time with," she said as she motioned toward herself and Faith, "our mom would probably lead to some quality matricide."
"No, it wouldn't," Marie said, shaking her head. She noticed Buffy and Faith glance her way, their expressions questioning. "Just saying," she added with a playful smile.
"I know it's kinda hokey... but she's really great," Amy said, her voice softening as she spoke of her mother.
Cordelia, feigning boredom, turned her back on Amber's impressive performance, her disdain evident in the way she dismissed the ongoing routine.
Meanwhile, Savannah, Buffy, and Xander watched Amber in amazement, their eyes wide with admiration. Marie, Faith, Amy, and Willow were equally impressed, their expressions showing a mix of awe and respect for Amber's skill.
Then, suddenly, smoke began to emanate from Amber's pom-poms, curling up in thin, sinister tendrils.
"What the ...?" Buffy said, glancing at the others to confirm she wasn't imagining it. She quickly realized they all saw it too, their faces reflecting the same shock.
"That girl's on fire," Willow exclaimed, her voice rising in alarm.
"Enough with the hyperbole," Cordelia said dismissively, still oblivious to the actual danger.
Amber dropped her pom-poms, and they all realized the smoke was not just from the props but from her. Her hands and arms burst into flames, and she let out a horrified scream, the sound echoing through the gym.
Buffy glanced toward Marie. "Can you?" she asked, hoping Marie knew a spell that could douse the fire.
"Too many witnesses," Marie answered, her voice tight with urgency.
Buffy quickly looked at Faith, who nodded in understanding. Faith sprinted toward Amber while Buffy ran to grab the Razorbacks banner hanging on the wall. With a quick, forceful tug, she ripped it down and raced to join Faith and the burning Amber. Together, they used the banner to smother the flames, their actions swift and coordinated.
"It's okay, you're gonna be okay..." the sisters murmured reassuringly, their voices a steady balm against the chaos. The gym filled with the acrid smell of burnt fabric and the echoes of Amber's panicked cries, but the immediate threat was subdued, leaving the room in a stunned silence.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Later, in the library, Rei, Buffy and Faith were pacing restlessly, their expressions tense. Savannah, Willow, Xander, and Marie sat at the study table, the air thick with unease and curiosity.
"Buffy and I've been slaying vampires for more than a while now," Faith said, her voice carrying a blend of frustration and bewilderment.
"And we have seen some pretty cringeworthy things, but... nobody's hands ever got toasted before," Buffy added, her pacing intensifying as she spoke.
Giles emerged from the book cage, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I imagine not," he said, his tone reflecting the gravity of the situation.
"I have," Marie interjected, drawing everyone's attention. "It was a witch, the year was about eighteen twenty-five. The witch cast a spell on an enemy. It did much like what happened to Amber, with one difference. The victim was completely burned alive."
"So, this is a witch?" Rei asked, her voice filled with both fear and fascination.
"It would appear so," Marie confirmed, her eyes reflecting a deep concern.
"Marie," Faith said, her tone shifting to one of confrontation. "BTW, why couldn't you douse the fire? I don't believe in the 'too many witnesses' excuse. You have proven you know what's going to happen to Buffy and me in advance."
Giles looked to Marie and sighed, the weight of secrecy pressing heavily on him. He knew that Buffy and Faith were perceptive enough to figure it out eventually.
"That's because I do, and I can't tell you," Marie said, her voice gentle yet firm. "Savannah and I are passed information to make sure you and Buffy continue along your path."
The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Buffy and Faith stopped pacing, their eyes locked on Marie, searching for answers that she could not provide.
"That's a gyp," Faith finally said, her frustration evident.
Marie smiled at Faith, a mixture of empathy and understanding in her eyes. "I know. Believe me, I do know how you feel. Growing up, I was in much a similar situation where secrets were kept to protect me. But in this instance, Savannah and I are only allowed to tell you things if you discover them for yourself. We can aid you, but we cannot interfere in your path."
"I have a suggestion," Xander said, drawing their attention back to the matter at hand. "And it may be out there. But could Amber have done this to herself?"
"I see where Xander is going," Savannah said, picking up the thread of his thought. "You're asking if she could be a mutant?"
"Yeah," Xander agreed. "Could this be a power she herself has, like the Human Torch, only it hurts."
Marie nodded thoughtfully. "It is a possibility. There are witches out there that have access to fire-based powers. If she is such a witch, she needs to be trained. Fire-based powers can be dangerous without proper guidance and control."
"So, Faith and I should get the skinny on Amber," Buffy stated, her resolve firming as she and Faith prepared to leave. "See if she's had any colorful episodes before."
"That means hacking illegally into the school's computer system," Willow said excitedly, already heading for the computer, "at last, something I can do."
"I can speed up the search for you, Willow," Marie said, following Willow to the computer station. Her presence seemed to lend an air of calm and efficiency to the endeavor.
"Xander and I'll ask around about her," Savannah said, her tone resolute and practical.
"Guys, you don't have to get involved," Faith said, her voice carrying a note of concern. "You don't have to either, Marie, Savannah or even you, Rei."
Marie smiled, a soft, reassuring expression that spoke of her commitment. "I know, but I want to, regardless of if it's why Savannah and I are here."
"So, do I," Savannah agreed, her eyes reflecting the same determination.
"If I wanted out," Rei said, her voice steady and resolute. "I would have had Duncan take my head a long time ago. Regardless of the fact I am immortal, I'm still a Slayer."
"Also, we're a team!" Xander added, his voice rising with enthusiasm and conviction. "Aren't we a team?"
Willow nodded vigorously; her excitement palpable. "Yeah," she agreed enthusiastically. "Buffy, Faith, and Rei, you three are Slayers, and Savannah, Marie, Xander, and I are like the Slayerettes."
"I think we can do better than that," Savannah said with a thoughtful smile. "You know, I always liked Scooby-Doo growing up. How about Scoobies?"
"I like it," Xander agreed, his face lighting up with approval.
"We don't want you putting yourselves in danger," Faith said, her concern evident as she looked around at her friends, each of whom had expressed a willingness to step up.
"I laugh in the face of danger. Then I hide till it goes away," Xander said, his attempt at humor falling flat and not really helping his case.
"Okay, well, I'm psyched for the help," Buffy said, her tone brightening as she looked at her friends. Faith nodded in agreement, sharing the optimism. Buffy then turned to Marie and Giles, her gaze steady as she addressed the next concern. "And what if we find out Amber didn't cause this herself?"
"Then we will have to determine who the witch is that did," Giles said, his tone practical and focused. "And deal with him or her accordingly." He then turned his attention to Marie. "I take it, Marie, you know what is causing this?"
Marie nodded, a somber expression on her face. "Yes. Again, I can't say. Buffy and Faith must learn that themselves first."
"Hey, we've fought vampires!" Xander offered, his voice filled with misplaced bravado. "Anything else will be a walk in the park."
"I hope so..." Buffy said, her eyes meeting Faith's in a moment of shared apprehension.
"You said you could make the search go faster. How?" Willow asked, her curiosity piqued and her fingers already twitching to assist.
"By using magic," Marie said, her eyes meeting Willow's with a hint of mystery. She thought to herself, 'Our family's magic,' as she touched Willow's shoulder, then extended her free hand to the computer.
Instantly, information files began flashing across the screen at an astonishing speed, faster than Willow could process. "Wow," Willow said, her voice a mix of awe and astonishment. She looked up at Marie's face, noticing the teacher's eyes moving in sync with the rapid scrolling of the data on the screen.
"I'll check with Willy," Rei said, her tone determined. "See if he has any information on any witches in town." She made her way towards the door, her steps purposeful and her focus sharp.
Summers Home
In the kitchen at the Summers house, the room was filled with the earthy scent of aged wood and the tang of fresh paint, a testament to the ongoing task at hand. Several wooden boxes and crates were strewn across the floor, their surfaces marked with shipping labels and dust from storage. Joyce was hard at work, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to pry one of the stubborn crates open with a crowbar. The effort was visible in the strain of her muscles and the slight flush on her cheeks.
Faith and Buffy entered the kitchen, their footsteps light and energetic against the wooden floor. "Hey, Mom! Dawn!" they called out in unison, their voices carrying a note of cheerfulness as they spotted their younger sister, Dawn, perched on a stool at the counter.
"Hi, how was school?" Joyce asked, glancing up from her task with a weary smile. The crowbar was wedged into the crate's edge, and she twisted it with a determined grunt.
"A reverent joy," Buffy responded with a hint of sarcasm, her eyes scanning the room. "What's all this?"
"Ms. Mori is having me catalogue the tribal art display," Joyce answered, her voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and pride. The crates were filled with various pieces of art, each one a puzzle of cultural significance waiting to be uncovered.
"Cool!" Faith said enthusiastically, her gaze falling on a particularly intriguing artifact that was partially exposed from another crate. She picked it up, her fingers brushing over the intricate patterns carved into the wood.
"We had tryouts today," Buffy said, her tone shifting to one of eager anticipation as she joined Faith in examining the art pieces.
"Oh, great!" Joyce exhaled, the sound a blend of relief and distraction as she continued her struggle with the crate. Her focus was divided between her task and her daughters, and the occasional clink of the crowbar punctuated the quiet of the kitchen.
"How'd it go?" Dawn asked, her eyes bright with curiosity as she looked up from her position at the counter.
"I didn't actually get to try out," Buffy said, her shoulders slumping slightly in disappointment, the weight of her unfulfilled hopes evident in her posture. Her face, usually so animated and full of energy, carried a hint of frustration and sadness.
"There was an accident," Faith added, her voice carrying the gravity of the situation. Her tone softened, as if to buffer Buffy's disappointment with an explanation.
"Pretty fierce competition, though," Buffy said, trying to sound nonchalant as she reflected on the trials of the day. Her eyes wandered around the cluttered kitchen, seeking solace in the mundane tasks and familiar surroundings.
"Oh, I know you'll do fine. Keep on pluggin', just have to get back on the horse," Joyce said, her voice brimming with motherly encouragement. Despite her effort to sound upbeat, her attention was clearly divided between her daughters and the crate she was battling with. Her hands were still gripping the crowbar, and her brow furrowed with concentration.
"Mom?" Buffy and Faith said in unison, their voices tinged with curiosity and a hint of exasperation.
"Yeah?" Joyce responded, momentarily pausing her struggle with the crate as she looked up at her daughters.
"What was Buffy trying out for?" Faith questioned, her tone earnest and slightly puzzled.
"Oh, uh..." Joyce trailed off, her eyes darting between Buffy and Faith as she paused her efforts to pry open the crate. "Some activity? I have no idea, I'm sorry." She felt a pang of guilt at her lack of knowledge about her daughters' interests, her earlier distractions now mingling with a sense of parental inadequacy.
"That's okay," Buffy said, a wry smile on her face. "Your platitudes are good for all occasions."
Joyce sighed, her shoulders sagging under the weight of her distractions and exhaustion. "I'm distracted," she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. She resumed prying at the crate, each movement slower and more labored as she tried to muster up the strength to continue. "Got a lotta inventory to go through here." Her sigh deepened, the fatigue from her task evident in the way she slumped against the crate.
"This is Ms. Mori's first major show," she continued, her voice heavy with the pressure of the upcoming event. She let out another sigh, this one more resigned, and finally gave up on opening the crate. With a last, weary glance at the stubborn wooden box, she turned to check her clipboard.
"You know," Joyce said, her voice taking on a more playful note as she looked back at her daughters, "it might not physically kill one of you to give me a hand here."
Buffy grabbed the lid of the crate with a decisive grip and, with a swift, effortless motion, tore it off. The lid clattered to the floor, revealing the contents within. "It was cheerleading," she informed, her voice carrying a mix of relief and frustration.
"Oh good! I'm glad you're taking that up again; it'll keep you out of trouble," Joyce said with a note of approval, her gaze momentarily shifting to Faith before she returned to her clipboard, absorbed in her list of tasks. "Just like you trying out for basketball again would keep you out of trouble, Faith."
"We're not in trouble," Faith said, her voice carrying a hint of defensiveness.
"No, not yet," Joyce said, her tone suggesting that the potential for trouble loomed on the horizon.
Dawn sighed softly as she glanced at her older sisters, her eyes reflecting the hurt and frustration she saw on their faces. It was clear that the words of their mother, although meant to be reassuring, were falling short of their intended comfort.
Joyce looked up from her clipboard and noticed the pained expressions on Buffy and Faith's faces. "I mean, you stopped cheerleading just before the trouble, Buffy. And Faith, you stopped playing basketball around the same time. So it's good you two are going back," she said, her voice attempting to bridge the gap between her understanding and her daughters' feelings. She returned to her crate and partially lifted out a statue, her face falling into a frown of concern. "Oh, dear."
"What?" Dawn asked, her curiosity piqued.
"The fertility statue, you don't need to see it," Joyce said with a note of embarrassment. She quickly replaced the crate's lid, trying to shield her daughters from the potentially awkward artifact, and then returned to her clipboard, her focus shifting back to her work.
"You know, there's this girl, Amy, and, um, she trains with her mom, like, three hours a day," Buffy said, her tone carrying a hint of wistfulness as she spoke about Amy's dedication.
"Uh-huh," Joyce responded, her attention momentarily drifting as she continued to scan her clipboard.
"Sounds like her mom's pretty into it," Buffy said, glancing at Faith and Dawn. She could sense the undercurrent of jealousy among her sisters. The Summers sisters didn't get to spend as much time with their mother as other girls their age did, and it stung to see someone else's relationship painted so vividly in contrast to their own.
"Sounds like her mom doesn't have a lot to do," Joyce remarked, walking out of the kitchen with a piece of art. Her words, though intended as a casual observation, carried a touch of dismissiveness.
Buffy lifted the crate's lid a little bit further and peered inside. The unexpected sight that met her eyes elicited a collective gasp. "Jeepers!" she, Dawn, and Faith exclaimed in unison, their voices echoing the shock and surprise that the contents of the crate had provoked.
SunnyHaven
Buffi twirled gracefully in the cheerleader uniform that Marie had meticulously procured. The vibrant colors of the outfit seemed to swirl around her, catching the light and casting a kaleidoscope of hues across the room. She moved with an effortless elegance, her every spin accentuating the intricate details of the uniform and the joy of the moment.
Standing before her sister Marie, her nephew Logan, her niece Anne, her own daughters, and her brother-in-law Clay, Buffi felt the warmth of their admiration and affection. The room was filled with a sense of familial pride and support, each member taking in the sight with genuine pleasure.
"You look beautiful, mommy," Anne said, her small voice filled with pure adoration. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she gazed up at Buffi, her face lit up with a radiant smile.
"You do," Marie and Savannah chimed in together, their voices harmonious and filled with warmth. They exchanged approving glances, their expressions reflecting their shared pride in Buffi's appearance.
"Dance with me, Aunt Buffy," Joyce said, her voice carrying a note of playful insistence. She extended her hand towards Buffi, her eyes wide with anticipation and a touch of mischief.
"No, me, mommy," Anne said, her tone a mixture of eagerness and possessiveness. She tugged gently at Buffi's other hand, her tiny fingers grasping for her mother's attention.
Clay glanced over at Logan with a resigned look. His eyes, though exasperated, held a glimmer of amusement. "Girls," he muttered under his breath, a note of fond exasperation coloring his tone. Logan, who had been observing the interaction with a quiet nod, mirrored his father's expression of reluctant acceptance, their silent communication underscoring a shared understanding of the playful chaos that often came with family moments.
Buffi laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she looked at the earnest faces of her children and niece. She gently pried her hands away from Anne and Joyce, giving each a reassuring pat on the head. "Alright, alright," she said, her voice tender. "How could I say no to you two?"
With a graceful sweep, she extended her arms to encompass both Joyce and Anne, drawing them into a dance that was more about joyful spinning than formal steps. They moved together, their laughter filling the room like a musical accompaniment. Buffi twirled with an easy rhythm, her skirt flaring out in a burst of color, while Joyce and Anne followed with delighted giggles and playful hops.
Marie and Savannah watched with warm smiles, their eyes following the trio with genuine affection. Marie's gaze lingered on Buffi, her heart swelling with pride at the sight of her sister-in-law fully embracing the moment. Savannah's expression was equally filled with joy, as she enjoyed seeing the familial bond that was so vividly on display.
Clay leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed but his posture relaxed. Despite his earlier eye roll, there was an unmistakable softness in his eyes as he observed the scene. Logan, standing by his side, seemed to absorb the lively energy of the moment, his earlier agreement now replaced by a small, contented smile.
As Buffi continued to dance, the room seemed to transform into a whirlwind of vibrant energy. Anne clung to her mother's hand, her small feet attempting to mirror the graceful steps, while Joyce mirrored Buffi's movements with a sense of practiced ease. The sense of unity and familial joy was palpable, wrapping everyone in an invisible embrace.
Eventually, the dance slowed, and Buffi gently guided her children and niece to a stop. She crouched down to their level, her face a picture of loving contentment. "You both were amazing," she said, her voice soft and sincere. "But I think we've danced enough for today."
Anne and Joyce beamed up at her, their faces flushed with happiness. "Can we dance again tomorrow?" Anne asked, her voice filled with hopeful enthusiasm.
"Maybe," Buffi replied, her smile playful and knowing. "But for now, let's take a break. How about we all go get some ice cream?"
March 18, 1997 – Tuesday
Sunnydale High School
The gym was abuzz with a mix of apprehension and determination as Joy, the head cheerleader, her voice carrying a note of resolve, addressed the assembled group. "Despite the terrible thing that happened yesterday..." Her words hung in the air, a somber reminder of the previous day's chaos, but she quickly shifted to a more practical tone. "...we still have to pick new cheerleaders. If you make the team, you'll find your name posted in the Quad after lunch. Let's begin with group performance—Cordelia, Buffy, Amy, Morgan, Janice, and Lishanne."
Buffy and Faith stood among their peers, surrounded by the vibrant energy of the gym, which was now filled with an undercurrent of nervous excitement. The floor was a polished expanse of potential, reflecting the bright overhead lights and the myriad of colorful banners that lined the walls. The scent of freshly cleaned floors mingled with the faint odor of sweat and anticipation.
Amy's face was etched with tension as she glared down at her hands, which were slick with nervous perspiration. Her fingers twitched slightly, betraying her unease despite her best efforts to maintain composure. The gym's echoing sounds—soft thuds of feet on the floor, murmured encouragements, and the distant clatter of equipment—seemed to amplify her anxiety.
Buffy, sensing Amy's discomfort, offered a reassuring smile. She placed a comforting hand on Amy's shoulder, her touch warm and steady. "Don't worry, you'll do great," she said, her voice gentle but firm, providing a grounding presence amidst the whirlwind of nerves.
The group was called to take their positions on the gym floor. Cordelia, with her usual air of confidence, flicked her hair back and took her place, exuding a self-assured grace. Buffy, while equally focused, tried to keep her own anxiety at bay, channeling her energy into the performance. Amy took a deep breath, her nerves momentarily calming as she focused on the routine. Morgan, Janice, and Lishanne joined the formation, each bringing their own unique energy to the mix.
Joy, standing at the edge of the floor, adjusted the music's volume, her finger pressing the play button with a decisive click. The upbeat, rhythmic music filled the gym, a pulsating beat that set the pace for their performance. "Five, six, seven, eight!" she called out, her voice cutting through the music.
The cheerleaders chanted in unison, their voices rising and falling in rhythmic harmony: "Sunnydale! Sunnydale! We never fail! We never fail! Jump and Shoot! Swish and score! The other team is such a bore! Yeah!" The chant reverberated off the gym's walls, a declaration of spirit and energy.
As the routine unfolded, Amy, caught in the swirl of nerves and the frantic energy of the performance, stumbled. During a cartwheel, her balance faltered, and she collided with Cordelia. The impact was sudden and jarring. Cordelia let out a sharp yelp as she was knocked to the floor, her fall a dramatic interruption to the otherwise smooth routine. She quickly scrambled to her feet, her face a mix of frustration and alarm. "You saw that, right? That wasn't me! You saw that, right?" she implored, her eyes darting between Amy and the rest of the group, desperately seeking validation that the mishap was not her fault but rather an unfortunate accident.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Marie stood before the gleaming trophy case, her gaze fixed on the portrait of Catherine Madison that was prominently displayed within. The glass of the case reflected soft, ambient light from the overhead fixtures, casting a halo around the image of Catherine, a figure poised and confident in her cheerleading uniform. Marie let out a deep sigh, her breath fogging the glass momentarily before dissipating. It was moments like these that tested her resolve. Despite knowing that, in the end, the spells would be reversed and no lasting harm would come of them, she felt a pang of regret. The pain and turmoil that people had to endure during these times were difficult to bear, and she wished she could shield them from such suffering. Yet, she also understood the delicate balance of time and fate; altering past events could unravel the very fabric of history, leading to unpredictable and potentially disastrous changes.
"That's my mom," Amy said as she, Faith, and Buffy approached Marie. Her voice carried a mix of pride and nostalgia, an emotional undercurrent that colored her words.
Buffy, glancing from Marie to the portrait, raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "No..." she said, her tone dripping with feigned shock. "Catherine Madison. Get down with your bad self."
Amy's face softened as she recounted her mother's accomplishments. "Her nickname was Catherine The Great," she explained. "She took that team and made them tri-county champions. No one's ever done that before or since. She and my dad were homecoming King and Queen, got married right after graduation."
"That's kinda romantic," Faith remarked, her voice carrying a shrug of nonchalance.
"Well..." Amy's expression shifted to a mix of bitterness and resignation. "He was a big loser. Couldn't make any money, took off with Miss Trailer Trash when I was twelve."
"Okay, that part's less romantic," Buffy conceded, her voice sympathetic as she reflected on her own family's struggles. "Our folks split up, too."
"As did mine," Marie said, glancing at Faith and Buffy with a look of shared understanding. Their eyes met, and confusion flickered in their expressions as they processed this revelation. Marie's voice carried a note of melancholy as she shared a personal connection to their collective experiences of familial upheaval.
"Drag, huh," Amy said with a nod of empathy. "He left my mom with nothing. She put herself through cosmetology school, bought me everything I ever wanted, and never gained a single pound..."
"She sounds great, Amy, but that doesn't mean you have to, you know, lock step as far as the cheerleading thing…" Buffy offered gently, her voice laced with concern. She watched as Amy's shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of her own expectations and insecurities pressing down on her.
Amy's face was a canvas of frustration and defeat. "It's just, she was the best, and I can't get my body to move like hers. I choked in there so bad," she said, her voice tinged with self-reproach. She tried to muster a brave front but failed to hide the disappointment in her eyes. As she turned and headed toward the girls' locker room, her movements were heavy, as if each step carried the burden of her unfulfilled aspirations. "...I gotta get changed..." she murmured, her voice trailing off.
"Hi, Amy…" Willow greeted as Amy walked past her, her concern evident in her tone. "She okay?"
"She's definitely not five by five," Faith said with a frown, her eyes following Amy's retreating figure. "Her mother was supposedly the big cheer queen back when."
"Yeah," Willow agreed, her voice low as she added, "Her mom's kinda…"
"Nazi-like?" Buffy offered, her expression reflecting a mix of sympathy and exasperation.
"Heil," Willow agreed with a grimace. "If she gains an ounce she padlocks the fridge and won't eat anything but broth." Her words conveyed the severity of Amy's mother's strict regimen, painting a picture of an oppressive and relentless pursuit of perfection.
"So Mommie Dearest is really," Faith said, shaking her head as she grappled with the reality of Amy's situation, "Mommie Dearest."
"There's a bitter streak—but Amy's nice," Willow explained with a sigh. "We used to hang in Junior High. When her mom'd go on a broth kick, Amy'd come to my house and we'd just stuff ourselves with brownies." The memory was a bittersweet reminder of their shared moments of rebellion against Amy's mother's harsh rules, and the comfort they found in each other's company.
"Any word on Amber?" Buffy asked, deftly shifting the conversation to a more pressing issue.
"Xander's theory proved false," Marie said, her voice carrying a hint of relief mingled with disappointment. She adjusted her stance, crossing her arms as if to ward off any lingering doubts or questions.
"Yeah," Willow agreed, rifling through her bookbag with a practiced hand. She pulled out a wrinkled sheet of paper, her face a mask of concentration as she scanned the document. "Average student—got detention once for smoking—regular smoking, with a cigarette. Not being smoky. All pretty normal." Her voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of frustration at the lack of significant findings.
"It's still likely a witch," Marie said firmly, her gaze steady and resolute. "Ruling Amber out as gifted means she was the victim of a spell. We just need to identify who the witch is." She paused, her thoughts clearly racing ahead to the implications of their next steps. "We'll have to wait to see if there is another attack. If not, tracking this witch may be difficult." The gravity of her words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the uncertainty that lay ahead.
"Hopefully nothing will happen," Buffy offered as they began to walk down the dimly lit corridor, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead casting long, wavering shadows. Her voice was hopeful but tinged with an undercurrent of concern as she glanced toward Marie.
"About your parents," Buffy continued, her curiosity piqued by a detail that had been nagging at her. "I thought divorce was unheard of 200 years ago."
Marie smiled, a practiced gesture that masked the inner turmoil of her thoughts. "Unheard of yes, but it still happened," she said with a hint of wistfulness. The smile was tinged with the weight of a half-truth. She knew that while the concept of divorce was indeed rare in historical contexts, her own origins were a carefully guarded secret. She was aware that it was a little white lie since she hadn't actually been born 200 years ago. In reality, she had been created just five years from now, and her parents were Buffy and Faith's parents. But such personal truths were buried under layers of deception and the intricacies of her role as a guardian. She knew she couldn't reveal the full truth to Buffy or Faith. Not yet at least.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Marie, Buffy, Faith, Savannah, Willow, and Xander moved through the crowded hallway after lunch, the anticipation palpable in their every step. The buzz of conversation and the collective hum of excitement surrounded them as students flowed through the corridors, their chatter a backdrop to the high-stakes drama of cheerleading tryouts. The air was charged with an electric mix of hope and anxiety, as everyone waited for the crucial list of names to be posted.
"Willy had nothing on the witch," Rei announced as she approached the group, her expression a blend of frustration and determination. "Though he did suggest this warlock, of course I…"
"Rack," Marie interjected with a sigh, her tone hinting at past frustrations. "Had some dealings with him a long time ago. I'll talk to him and see if he knows anything." Her resolve was evident, though the mention of Rack clearly weighed heavily on her.
Just then, as Amy joined them, a cheerleader brushed past the group and affixed a fresh notice to the bulletin board. The crowd around the board surged forward, eager to catch a glimpse of the eagerly awaited list. Moments later, a girl sprinted past, tears streaming down her cheeks, clearly devastated by the news she had just received.
"Yes!" Lishanne exclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of relief and excitement as she leapt into the air, her face alight with triumph. Her celebration contrasted sharply with the growing anxiety of the onlookers.
"I can't take this..." Amy murmured, her voice thick with barely contained emotion. She turned away from the board, her shoulders slumped in defeat.
Buffy tried to push her way through the throng of students, her determination evident as she maneuvered through the crowd. However, two contenders stepped directly into her path, effectively blocking her progress. The surge of bodies around her seemed almost impenetrable.
Faith, observing her sister's struggle, rolled her eyes with a mix of exasperation and resolve. She stepped forward, shoving aside the girls who obstructed Buffy's way with a firm but controlled force. Faith plunged into the crowd, expertly navigating through the sea of students until she reached the front, where she stood next to Cordelia. Cordelia's smug smile did little to help Faith's growing frustration as she scanned the notice for Buffy's name. Her frown deepened as she realized her sister's name was listed as first alternate, knowing full well that Buffy's skills were far superior to that ranking.
Faith returned through the crowd, her face set in a grim expression. "Bad news, girls," she said, her voice carrying a note of disappointment as she met Buffy and Amy's anxious gazes. "Buffy, you got first alternate. Amy, I'm sorry but you're third alternate."
Xander, seemingly oblivious to the tension, flashed a wide smile. "You made it!" he exclaimed with genuine excitement. He failed to notice the crestfallen look on Amy's face as she turned and walked away, her steps heavy with disheartenment.
He glanced at Faith, his eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "What better way to celebrate your sister making the squad than with a romantic drive-through for two at…"
Marie interrupted with a practiced roll of her eyes. "Xander, alternates are the ones who didn't make the team. They only fill in if something happens to the ones who did." Her tone was gentle but firm, a subtle reminder of the reality behind the cheerleading hierarchy.
"Excuse me," Buffy said as she navigated through the crowd of students to reach Amy, her voice cutting through the murmur of conversation with a note of determination. Her approach was deliberate, her concern for her friend evident in her stride.
"For I am Xander," Xander declared with exaggerated flair, his voice echoing with playful bravado. "King of the Cretins, and all lesser cretins must bow before me." His attempt at levity was met with mixed reactions, a small smirk on his face betraying his awareness of the absurdity of his proclamation.
"At least it's over," Buffy said to Amy, her tone a blend of consolation and resolve. "And you know what I think we should do about it? Brownie pig-out, my house, now." Her suggestion was both an offer of comfort and an attempt to lighten the mood, her eyes bright with the promise of sweet indulgence.
"How many more hours a day can I practice?" Amy asked dejectedly, her voice heavy with frustration and self-doubt. "How much more can I do? This would never have happened to my mom. Never." She turned away, her shoulders hunched as if bearing the weight of her disappointment. Her departure was marked by a palpable sense of defeat, leaving Buffy standing in the wake of her friend's distress.
"Something wrong, Buffy?" Savannah inquired as she approached her friend, her voice laced with concern. Her eyes searched Buffy's face, trying to decipher the reason behind her pensive expression.
"I'm not sure, Savannah," Buffy responded, her gaze lingering on Amy's retreating figure.
March 19, 1997 – Wednesday
Summers Home
In the Summers' kitchen the next morning, the soft hum of the toaster filled the air as it finished its work with a cheerful pop. Buffy reached over to extract two golden-brown bagels, their crispy exteriors emitting a tantalizing aroma of toasted wheat. With a practiced flick of her wrist, she placed the bagels on a small, white plate and carried them over to the central island, a sturdy granite slab that was the heart of the kitchen. There, Faith and Dawn were seated, their faces bright with anticipation as they waited for the rest of their breakfast.
"Look what I found. It's my yearbook from junior year," Joyce announced, her voice tinged with nostalgia as she thumbed through the pages of a well-worn book. Her fingers paused on a page, and she gently turned it to reveal a photo of her younger self. "Oh, look! There I am." She placed the book with a soft thud on the island and sauntered over to the coffee maker, her movements purposeful as she prepared herself a steaming mug of coffee, its rich aroma mingling with the scent of the bagels.
Buffy, Dawn, and Faith gathered around the island, their curiosity piqued as they peered at the photograph of Joyce from decades past. Buffy broke the silence with a teasing edge in her voice. "Mom, we've accepted that you've had sex. I think I speak for Faith and Dawn in saying that we are not ready to know that you had Farrah hair," she said, her tone laced with playful exasperation as her sisters nodded in agreement, their expressions a mix of amusement and slight embarrassment.
Joyce's face took on a mock-serious expression as she corrected them, "This is Gidget hair," she said, with a hint of indignation. "Don't they teach you anything in history?"
Faith leaned back slightly, her gaze fixed on the yearbook with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. "Well, it's really cool, but we gotta book," she said, her voice carrying an undertone of urgency. She started to gather her and Buffy's bags, preparing for the day ahead.
Joyce, undeterred, continued with a hint of wistfulness in her tone. "Well, I was thinking. I know the cheerleading thing didn't work out…" She glanced at Buffy, her eyes reflecting a mix of maternal concern and encouragement. "Maybe you should think about joining the yearbook staff, Buffy. In fact, you should as well, Faith. I did, it was a lot of fun."
Buffy, her hand still resting on the refrigerator door, gave a dismissive shrug. "Not really our thing, mom," she said, her tone practical as she reached for the cream cheese.
"I was, uh, photo editor," Joyce continued, her voice gaining a note of pride. "I got to be on every page; it made me look much more popular than I was."
Faith, now hefting the bags onto her shoulder, shot a skeptical look toward the yearbook. "And have you seen the kids that do yearbook?" she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of mockery. "Nerds pick on them."
In an affronted tone, Joyce straightened her back, her eyes flashing with a mix of defensiveness and fond reminiscence. "Some of the best times I had in school were working on the yearbook!" she asserted, her voice carrying the weight of personal experience and unspoken memories.
Buffy turned to face their mother with a mixture of exasperation and resolve. "Oh, this just in: We're not you! We're into doing our own thing." Her voice carried the sharp edge of rebellion, an assertion of independence that seemed to cut through the tension in the room.
Joyce's eyes flashed with frustration as she met her daughter's gaze. "Your own thing, whatever it is, got you and Faith kicked out of school, and we had to move here to find a decent school that would take you both!" Her voice was tinged with a blend of anger and desperation, reflecting the strain of having to uproot their lives to address the consequences of her daughters' actions.
Dawn, observing the heated exchange between her sisters and their mother, could see the pain in Buffy and Faith's eyes. The argument had hit a raw nerve, deepening the emotional chasm that had formed between them. Sensing the tension, Dawn quietly rose from her seat and picked up her own bag. With a soft sigh, she approached her sisters, her voice gentle but filled with a note of need. "Will you guys walk me to school?" she asked, her eyes pleading for their support.
Buffy and Faith exchanged a brief, unspoken agreement before nodding in assent. "Yeah," they said in unison, their voices carrying the promise of solidarity despite their own internal struggles.
As Joyce watched her daughters prepare to leave, she felt a pang of self-reproach. Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a frustrated groan. "Uhhh…" she muttered, her face flushed with a mix of self-disgust and guilt. "Great parenting form! Little shaky on the dismount."
Sunnydale High School
In the bustling hallway of the school, Cordelia glided past Willow and Xander with an air of distracted elegance, her gaze unfocused as if lost in a distant reverie. Her hair bounced with each step, and her designer outfit swished softly, but her usual haughty demeanor was noticeably absent.
"Cordelia, you haven't been mean to me all day. Is it something I've done?" Xander's voice carried a note of genuine confusion, yet it seemed to pass through Cordelia as if she were a mirage. He shifted his attention to Willow, frustration lining his features. "Okay, see how she has no clue that I'm even a mammal, much less a human being?"
Willow, leaning against her locker, removed a pen from her mouth with a thoughtful expression. "I see that," she said, her eyes tracking Cordelia's retreating figure with mild concern.
"This is the invisible man syndrome. A blessing in Cordelia's case. A curse in Faith's," Xander observed with a rueful chuckle, his gaze following Cordelia as she disappeared around a corner. The hallway's chatter and clamor seemed to fade into a distant hum as his words lingered in the air.
Willow closed her locker with a decisive click, her mind clearly still occupied with the conversation. She chewed on her pen, its blue ink staining her lips slightly as she mulled over Xander's predicament. "You're not invisible to Faith," she said, her tone both reassuring and contemplative as they began to walk down the hallway together, the echo of their footsteps mingling with the ambient noise.
"It's worse! I'm just like a part of the scenery, like an old shoe. Or a rug that you walk on every day but don't even really see it," Xander lamented, his shoulders slumping with the weight of his frustration. His eyes scanned the vibrant chaos of the hallway, feeling as if he were just another inconsequential element in the school's daily parade.
Willow, contemplating his analogy, took the pen out of her mouth and offered a sympathetic smile. "Like a pen that's all chewed up, and you know you should throw it away, but you don't, not 'cause you like it so much, more 'cause you're just used to..." Her voice trailed off, as she gestured vaguely, capturing the essence of Xander's feeling of being overlooked.
"Will, yeah, that is the point, you don't have to drive it through my head like a railroad spike," Xander interrupted, his tone a mix of exasperation and acceptance. "I'm gonna take your advice and not beat around the bush," he declared with a newfound resolve, his eyes narrowing with determination.
"Or I could be wrong! Maybe you should beat around the bush more," Willow countered with a hint of playful sarcasm, her eyes twinkling with the faintest trace of humor.
"Nah, I gotta be a man and ask Faith out. Stop taking Polaroids outside of her bedroom window late at night," Xander said with a half-hearted grin, though the jest masked his underlying anxiety. "That Polaroid thing is a joke to relieve the tension because here she comes," he added, his gaze shifting as he caught sight of Buffy, Faith, and Savannah emerging from a classroom.
Buffy walked with a purposeful stride, Faith trailed closely behind her, her demeanor exuding a mix of casual confidence and guarded curiosity, while Savannah flitted alongside them, her presence a vibrant splash of color in the monochrome backdrop of the hallway.
"Okay, into battle I go." Xander declared with a surge of determination, his face a mask of resolve. He abruptly turned to Willow, grabbing her by the shoulders with a firm grip that startled her. "Would you ask her out for me?" His eyes were wide with a blend of anxiety and hope, as if entrusting her with the fate of his romantic aspirations.
Meanwhile, Faith and Buffy were observing Cordelia, who was struggling with the combination on a locker. Cordelia's frustration was palpable as she twisted and turned the dial, her fingers moving in an impatient flurry.
Xander quickly composed himself, shaking off the moment of panic. "No. Man." He released Willow's shoulders, the suddenness of the gesture leaving her momentarily disoriented. "Me battle." He then pivoted to face Faith, his voice tinged with a new, awkward bravado. "Faith! Would you like to, uh..."
As Faith, Savannah, and Buffy approached Willow and Xander, Buffy's sharp eyes caught the situation. "Is that even Cordelia's locker?" she asked, her curiosity piqued as she observed Cordelia's continued struggle, her frustration evident in the tight set of her jaw and the way she raked her fingers through her hair.
The group watched as Cordelia finally gave up on the locker, turning with a resigned sigh and striding purposefully down the hall, her back stiff and her footsteps echoing her irritation.
"Huh?" Xander said, momentarily disoriented by the turn of events. "Oh, I don't know." He quickly redirected his focus back to Faith, his tone now tinged with a sense of urgency. "What I'm saying is accompany me Friday night..." His voice trailed off as he tried to convey his request amidst the swirling chaos of the hallway.
Faith and Buffy, having watched Cordelia's departure, exchanged a look. Faith took a deep breath and turned back to Xander with a mix of sympathy and impatience. "Xander, we have to, um…" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "We can make this up later. You don't mind, do you?" She handed Xander her book, the gesture both practical and dismissive. She and Buffy then turned and followed Cordelia down the hall.
Xander let out a long, low whistle, mimicking the sound of a bomb falling and exploding with a dramatic flair. The sound cut through the chatter of the hallway, reflecting his frustration and sense of defeat. Willow observed him with a bemused expression, continuing to chew on her pen, her gaze distant as she contemplated the unfolding drama.
Savannah offered Xander a reassuring smile, her eyes filled with encouragement. "Give it time, Xander. Faith will come around."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Marie sighed as she walked toward the driver's ed car, her footsteps heavy with resignation. The sun was a relentless presence overhead, casting long shadows that danced along the asphalt. "Why did I let Buffy talk me into doing this?" she wondered aloud, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of traffic. She glanced toward the car and noticed Cordelia and two other students standing beside it, their expressions a mix of anticipation and apprehension.
"Ok Cordelia, you're up first," Marie announced with a forced cheerfulness, attempting to mask her own trepidation. "Let's buckle up, people." Her voice carried an edge of reluctant authority as she tried to muster the enthusiasm required for the task at hand.
"I don't want to drive today, Marie," Cordelia said with a dramatic sigh, her tone betraying a blend of reluctance and frustration. Her stance was one of resistance, her arms crossed in a gesture that spoke volumes about her mood.
Marie sighed deeply, feeling a pang of empathy for Cordelia's hesitation, though she too was less than thrilled about the situation. "According to your records, you've flunked Driver's Ed twice," Marie said, her voice tinged with a hint of sternness. "I know you can do this, Cordelia." She watched as Cordelia, with an exaggerated sense of reluctance, opened the driver's door and climbed into the seat behind the wheel. Marie followed suit, making her way around to the passenger side and settling into her seat with a muted clunk.
"Check your brake, your mirrors, start the engine, put the car in drive..." Marie instructed, her voice steady but weary. As she spoke, she mumbled a telepathic spell she had learned from Ruth, using it to see through Cordelia's eyes. The world appeared as a jumbled mess of colors and shapes, a disorienting blur that only deepened Marie's unease.
"...let's move forward and through the cones in a gentle, even turn to the…" Marie's instructions were abruptly cut off as Cordelia, with a sudden and jarring motion, put the car in reverse and slammed on the gas. The car shot backwards with alarming speed, crashing into a pole with a deafening thud.
"…brakes!" Marie nearly shouted, her voice a high-pitched command as she grappled with the sudden chaos.
Cordelia, clearly panicked, slammed on the brakes with force, her hands darting frantically to shift the car through every gear until she finally found drive. The car lurched forward, the sudden acceleration jostling everyone inside.
"Slow down," Marie commanded, her voice a strained attempt at calm. "Turn right, right, BRAKES, BRAKES!" Her words came out in a rapid-fire sequence as she tried to regain control of the situation.
Cordelia, struggling to follow Marie's frantic instructions, yanked the steering wheel hard to the right. The car skidded uncontrollably, tires screeching as it veered off the blacktop of the parking lot. The vehicle plowed through the grass, its trajectory unsteady, before finally skirting onto the street.
From the corner of her eye, Marie saw Buffy and Faith sprinting toward them, their faces etched with concern and urgency. As the car finally came to a stop on the street, a passing vehicle blared its horn angrily, swerving sharply to avoid them.
"Everyone out!" Marie called out with a sense of urgency, as she, Cordelia, and the two students scrambled out of the car. The adrenaline was palpable, a tangible force that urged them all to move swiftly. "Buffy! Faith! Help Cordelia to the nurse and then gather everyone and meet me and Giles in the library."
"Oh, my God, I, I can't see anything!" Cordelia wailed, her voice a frantic mix of fear and disbelief. Her footsteps were unsteady, a stark contrast to the normally confident stride she carried. Buffy and Faith, their faces etched with concern, guided her carefully back toward the school, their hands gripping her arms with a gentle but firm assurance.
The once bustling school grounds now felt eerily quiet, the usual sounds of students chatting and lockers slamming suddenly distant and muffled. The sun cast long shadows on the pavement, adding a surreal quality to the scene. Buffy and Faith glanced at each other, their eyes wide with alarm as they noticed the extent of Cordelia's distress.
"It's, it's okay, it's…" Buffy started to comfort, but her voice faltered as she and Faith took a closer look at Cordelia's eyes. The sight was nothing short of horrifying. Cordelia's eyes, usually so full of life and expression, were now completely devoid of color. They were a stark, unnatural white, with no visible irises or pupils, rendering them blank and ghostly.
"Oh God!" Buffy exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch as her own fear and helplessness became palpable. The sight of Cordelia's eyes, so devoid of any sign of normal human sight, sent a shiver down her spine.
"What's happening? I can't see anything!" Cordelia's voice was laced with panic, her hands reaching out instinctively as if trying to grasp some semblance of the world around her. Her fingers fluttered helplessly in the air, a stark contrast to her usual poised and controlled demeanor.
Buffy and Faith exchanged worried glances, their minds racing with questions and concerns. They could only imagine the terror Cordelia felt as her vision failed her so abruptly.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
In the library, the air was thick with concern and confusion as the team gathered around the table. The room was dimly lit, with the heavy wooden shelves lined with ancient tomes casting deep shadows across the room. The scent of old paper and leather bindings mingled with the faint aroma of herbal tea from the cup Giles had left on the desk. Marie, her face lined with worry, exhaled a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire situation.
"Witchcraft," Marie said with a deep, resigned sigh. "Blinding your enemy to disable and disorient them is a classic. Though I myself have never done it. I practice good magic. What was done to Cordelia is dark magic." Her words hung in the air, laden with a sense of foreboding. Marie's tone was contemplative, reflecting on the grim nature of the magic used against Cordelia. Her gaze was distant, as if she were reflecting on darker times she had witnessed or heard of.
"Why would someone want to harm Cordelia?" Giles asked, his brow furrowing in thought. He adjusted his glasses, a sign of the deep concentration he was giving to the matter at hand. His eyes, usually so keen and perceptive, now revealed a flicker of worry.
"Maybe because… they met her," Willow stated, her voice tinged with an unexpected humor. She tried to suppress a laugh, her cheeks flushing slightly as she realized the unintended levity of her comment. "Did I say that?" she added, slightly embarrassed by her own remark.
The room's atmosphere lightened briefly, but the underlying tension remained. The members of the team exchanged glances, each one wrestling with the implications of Willow's comment. The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead seemed to grow louder in the quiet moments that followed.
"Then why was Amber set ablaze?" Faith wondered aloud, her eyes narrowing as she pondered the connection between the two incidents. Her curiosity was evident, mingled with concern for the safety of others who might be affected by this dark magic.
"Yeah, those guys don't hang," Xander agreed, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and skepticism. His comment, though lightly framed, underscored the puzzling nature of the attacks. He leaned back in his chair, the creaking of the wooden seat a small punctuation to his thoughts.
"They're both cheerleaders," Buffy offered, her tone thoughtful as she connected the dots. Her gaze shifted between her friends, as if searching for confirmation or further insights.
Savannah's face brightened with a knowing smile. "Buffy hit the nail on the head," she said, her voice carrying a note of approval.
"Someone doesn't like cheerleading," Giles said, his voice steady but contemplative. He placed a hand on the table, his fingers lightly tapping the surface as he thought through the implications of their findings.
"Or likes it too much," Buffy suggested, her voice carrying a hint of irony. The suggestion added another layer to the puzzle they were trying to solve.
"Amy," Willow said with a note of understanding, her eyes widening as the realization dawned. The connection seemed to make sense, her previous interactions with Amy now taking on a new light.
"Amy," Buffy echoed, her voice tinged with concern.
"So, you guys are leaning towards Amy," Xander said, his tone reflecting a mix of confusion and concern.
"She's desperate to get on that team..." Faith said, her voice carrying a note of empathy mixed with frustration. The weight of her words reflected the underlying tension of the situation, highlighting Amy's determination and the lengths she might go to fulfill her aspirations.
"I get the feeling she'd do anything to make her mom's dream come true," Buffy added, her expression thoughtful.
"Now I do want to make sure I've got this right," Giles said, his voice laden with disbelief. "This witch is casting horrible, disfiguring spells so that she can be a cheerleader." His brow furrowed as he tried to wrap his mind around the bizarre and troubling reality of the situation. The thought of someone resorting to such extreme measures for social status was both disturbing and perplexing.
"Yes," Marie said, her tone reflective and tinged with sadness. "While again it is not a path I would go down. I can understand what Amy must be going through to live up to her mom's expectations for her. I was that way with my sisters. When I was younger, I would have done anything to make her proud of me." Marie's voice softened as she recounted her own experiences, the weight of her past evident in her words. Her eyes met Buffy and Faith's, a warm smile playing at her lips as she thought to herself, 'Still do.' The memory of striving for Buffy and Faith's approval seemed to bind her emotionally to Amy's plight.
"Cheerleading was kind of her mom's last hurrah," Willow added, her tone sympathetic. The phrasing captured the essence of a personal dream being projected onto Amy, turning cheerleading into a symbol of her mother's past glory and unfulfilled ambitions.
"We still gotta stop Amy," Xander said, his urgency clear. His hands rested on the table, his fingers gripping the edge as he leaned forward, his eyes intense. The need to act swiftly was apparent, a response to the escalating danger posed by Amy's actions.
"Let's be certain she's the witch before we arouse her suspicions," Giles said as he flipped through one of his many books. The sound of pages turning was a rhythmic accompaniment to his thoughtful examination. "She's capable of some fairly ugly things." His concern was palpable, underscoring the delicate balance they had to maintain in their investigation.
"Giles, we got a witch on our side, remember," Buffy said, her voice carrying a hint of reassurance. She glanced toward Marie, her tone acknowledging the unique advantage they had in their magical resources.
"Buffy," Marie said with a shake of her head
"You are helping, not passing along information," Buffy said, her voice firm and decisive. "It keeps you straddling that fence."
Marie sighed deeply, the weight of their task pressing on her shoulders. With a deliberate motion, she gestured toward the book Giles was absorbed in. The book responded to her command, levitating gracefully out of his hands and gliding through the air to settle gently in her grasp. Marie's fingers traced the edges of the book as she flipped through the worn pages, the rustling sound mingling with the ambient quiet of the library.
"This will work," she said, her voice steady and focused as she scanned the arcane text. Her brow furrowed slightly as she absorbed the details, her gaze shifting from the book to her companions. "You'll need some of her hair, a little quicksilver and aqua fortis."
"That's just mercury and nitric acid; we can get it in the science lab," Willow interjected, her practical mind swiftly connecting the magical ingredients to their more mundane counterparts.
"You will need to heat the ingredients," Marie continued, her tone instructive and precise. "Then apply the potion to the witch in question." Her eyes met theirs with a serious expression, the weight of the task evident in her gaze. "Just don't take a bit of my hair and do that to me. You will find out that I cast spells in the last forty-eight hours." Her attention returned to the book as she spoke, her fingers skimming over the instructions. "But it should tell you if Amy is the witch." Her voice carried a blend of hope and apprehension, a desire to provide clarity amid the uncertainty. "Oh, and you'll need some eye of newt."
