Chapters 3 and 4

[halfbloodme]

Chapter Three

Willow spent yet another sleepless night in her and Tara's bedroom. She would not allow herself to sleep. Instead, she spent the remaining night-time hours alternately watching her lover sleep and reading the magic books that they had in the house, pen and paper and laptop at her side. The young Wiccan could not understand how they were meant to provide Buffy with the crucial help needed to defeat Le Feuvre. She wasn't even sure what would be useful, and her research was consequently proving fruitless. Then there was the way it had affected Tara. If both of them were key to the solution, then she needed to make sure Tara regained her normal composure soon. The question was, how? Willow thought back over the past year and a half and remembered just how much the two of them had faced together, and how much Tara had dealt with on her own. The blond Witch had kept her family history a secret for months. She had hid their tyranny of abuse and repression away from her new friends, and battled her own inner demons alone, until the truth had come out and Willow and the others had helped her gain confidence in herself, helping her stand up for herself. Then there had been the time Glory had blasted her memory - Willow had helped her through that too. Now the others were relying on the two Witches, and if Willow couldn't help Tara find her confidence, they were doomed.

*

As Saturday morning dawned, Tara stirred. She opened her eyelids and pushed her self up onto her arms. She smiled as she looked round the room. Willow sat, head on her arms, leaning on the end of the bed. She had obviously been watching Tara when she finally allowed sleep to take over. Tara, feeling less scared than the previous night, although still shaken, could not bring herself to wake her sleeping girlfriend. Instead, she climbed out of bed and gently lifted Willow from the floor and placed her between the covers before heading downstairs for a strong cup of chamomile tea. Giles was already in the kitchen when she arrived. It looked as though he hadn't been to bed at all. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he had a greying five o'clock shadow. He was nursing what looked like his umpteenth cup of tea and had several books open around him, as well as a legal pad and pen. He started when Tara entered the room.
“Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you. I just fancied a cup of chamomile. Want a refill?” She asked, looking at his cup of stone cold Tetley.
“That would be lovely. How are you his morning?” he put down his pen and removed his nose from the particular book he had been reading.
“Better, I think. I just got a bit of a scare last night, that's all. After being attacked and then the whole prophecy thing, I just think it was too much to take on board in one go. I'm fairing better than Willow though. She mustn't have gotten much sleep last night; she was leaning on the bed in what looked like the most uncomfortable position when I woke up. I moved her onto the bed properly and then came down. I didn't want to disturb her.” Tara waited patiently for the kettle to boil.
“Poor girl. She always did find it hard not to worry. And after last night and the way it affected you, she probably felt she had to make a show of being strong until you had settled down for the night. She really does love you. In fact, I've never seen her so devoted to anyone, not even when she was with…” He trailed off.
“Oz. It's okay; I know they were in love. I've accepted it. She chose me in the end, and I know it wasn't an easy decision for her. I just count myself lucky that she did.” Tara poured hot water into two mugs. “Have you been to bed yet?”
“What? Oh, no. I couldn't sleep, thought I'd research a bit more. You can never have too much information. And it doesn't matter if I don't go into the Magic Box this morning, Anya will be there and we're never busy on a Saturday morning.” Giles stifled a yawn.
“Still, you should get some rest.” Tara passed him his fresh mug.
“No, I'm alright. We older folks don't need as much sleep as you youngsters, something to do with less active bodies or something. Must be why Le Feuvre had me down as negligible. Don't pull that face. It's okay. I know I'm getting older, but he hasn't counted on the fact that whilst I can't fight as well as you youngsters, I'm sharp when it comes to using my brain. I'll find the way to defeat him, mark my words.” He smiled defiantly at the young woman who was now sitting opposite him.
“I know you will. What've you found out so far?”
“Apparently the prophecy came from a Jersey Witch who lived in the parish of St. Clement on the East side of the island. She and her coven practised the dark magicks. They held their meetings at a place called Rocqueberg, it's a large rock formation that now forms part of someone's grounds. It is said by islanders that the rock, which was struck by lightning, apparently has cloven hoof-prints on one of its ledges, to them that was a sure sign of the devil. These Witches put the fear of God into most of the islanders with their hatred of beauty and corruption of youth. In fact one book here states that no Jersey person would take you there on a Friday night, especially at full moon, due to the Witches and their liaisons with the devil.” Giles paused to take a drink from his mug.
“Sounds like a mixture of folklore and truth.”
“True. Anyway, give it another few hours and I'll ring my friend in Jersey. I met her last time I was over there. She's a Witch called Cara, and interested in the folklore of the island, quite the historian actually. I'm hoping she can give us some more details about this Witch that made the prophecy.”
“In that case, finish your tea and go to bed, or at least freshen up. There's some of your clothes upstairs in the bathroom from when Buffy was, well you know.”
“Maybe you're right. I'll go and have a wash and shave and get changed.” And with that he walked out of the room, leaving Tara to tidy up and prepare breakfast.

*

Buffy and Dawn came downstairs not long after Giles had headed up, no doubt stirred by the delicious smell of pancakes that was now wafting through the house. Tara had gone into overdrive and the two Summers sisters arrived to find stacks of the Wiccan beauty's famous squiggly pancakes on two large dinner plates, sitting on the kitchen bench.
“Yum, food.” Dawn pulled an empty plate towards her and began to pile pancakes on to it.
“Get stuck in, Dawny. There's more in the frying pan.” Tara smiled at the teenager's eagerness.
“You alright, Tara? That's one hell of a feast you've got going.” Buffy eyed Tara with caution.
“Fine, fine. Well, better than last night anyway. I just figured we could all do with feeding up before hitting the research again. Willow was at it all night, poor thing. I found her asleep with piles of books surrounding her this morning. Best leave her awhile I think.” It was true that she was feeling better than before, but now as she faced the Slayer and her sister, some of Tara's previous fears began to return to her. Not least the fact she and Willow were to provide the key to victory.
“That's Will, research girl!” Buffy enthusiastically followed her sister's lead and began to tuck in, satisfied that Tara was ok.
“Ooh, sustenance.” Giles re-entered the room looking a lot better than he had twenty minutes previously. Gone were his stubble and clothes of the previous day, and he sat down in a crisp white shirt and black slacks, ready to face a mound of pancakes and nuke his cup of tea in the microwave.
“Giles, I hate to say it, but you do realise you just sounded like a cross between Xander and Buffy, don't you?” Dawn smirked at the ex-Watcher.
“Forgive an old man for being excited about food! Aren't you meant to be at the Mall or wherever it is you youngsters go to chill on a weekend?” Dawn nearly choked on her breakfast.
“Did you just say 'chill'? Giles that is so nineties. Nobody 'chills' anymore.”
“Dawn, not helping things, I don't think Giles got any sleep last night. Just finish your breakfast and go meet your friends.” Buffy hissed at her sister.
“Fine, not like I want to be shut in with stuffy books all day anyhow. I'll be back before dark, I promise. And yes I've got my cell on me. See you later.” She took one more bite of pancake and swept out of the room.
“Thank you Miss-Giles-is-old-and-crotchety. I was merely suggesting that Dawn leave so we can discuss what I found out last night.”
“Relax, Giles. You've gotta talk to teenagers in a certain way or they won't listen. Did not you learn that with me?” Buffy smiled.
“Actually, I chose to ignore your attitude after a while. I never will understand your generation. I'd just appreciate it if your sister hadn't followed in your footsteps.” He repositioned his glasses and smiled back at her.
“Well, what’ve you found?”
“You’re not going to like this.” Giles looked at the young women in front of him with an air of seriousness. Tara took the frying pan off of the hob and sat down as Buffy leaned towards Giles.

*

Willow woke with a start, confused as to how she had ended up in bed fully clothed. Tara was nowhere to be seen and the strong midday sun crept in through the curtains. It was definitely a lot later than she had expected. How could the others have let her sleep in so long? She pulled herself out of bed, dashed to the bathroom, showered and changed and then ran downstairs, her stomach crying out for food, her heart for her girlfriend. As she entered the kitchen, Willow saw Giles, Tara and Buffy sitting with glum expressions. Not one of them was talking and the only one who raised their head to acknowledge her arrival was Tara. The feeble smile on her girlfriend’s face made Willow’s heart lurch. She hurried to Tara’s side and wrapped her arms around her. Whatever the group had been discussing was not good news.

Tara willing accepted the embrace from Willow. Her heart hung heavy. How could she tell the wonderful redhead beside her what was going on? She knew that neither Giles nor Buffy would be able to bring themselves to. In fact they were looking at each other with expressions that said ‘Maybe we should go somewhere else.’ Tara nodded as Giles looked over. Her eyes telling him she would do the necessary and he and Buffy quietly stood up and left. Tara gestured for Willow to sit down and lowered her head. This was not going to be easy.
“Will, I...I don’t know how to say this, but... but the thing is...” She faltered, not sure of how to continue.
“What is it, Baby?” Willow leaned forward.
“Well... according to the prophecy Giles found, Buffy isn’t the one who’s going to defeat Le Feuvre.” Tara shut her eyes. Her body shook with the weight of the situation.
Willow was too dumbfounded to speak. She had thought it bad enough that she and Tara would have to provide crucial support but to discover that it wasn’t support they would be providing chilled her to the bone. Her mind began to spin and as her body hit the floor, Tara was only just in time to stop her from banging her head on the stool on which she had been sitting.

*

Anya was busy with a customer when Giles and Buffy arrived. The blond ex-vengeance demon was becoming more and more infuriated as the customer asked more and more questions about the item he was considering buying. Giles and Buffy slid silently into the training room as Anya said in a rather loud voice, “I’ve already told you once that there are only three of them left in existence and whilst I can get you another one it may take several months. The one we have in stock is perfectly in tact and why you want one in the first place is beyond me! With your arrogance you’d be lucky to....” The door swung shut behind them. Whilst usually Giles would have gone to the customer’s rescue, he knew that the particular man Anya was dealing with was a pain. He came in once every couple of months and tried to make life difficult by ordering the most rare of items and then complaining about them when they arrived. With no sleep and bigger worries than whether or not Anya was being polite to customers, Giles chose to leave her to it.
“Giles, I’m not happy about this at all. I can’t let them do it. I can’t and I won’t. Me being the one in danger, facing death and all, that’s normal. But Will and Tara don’t have my Slayer strength and they are not ready for this.” Buffy looked at him with determination in her eyes.
“I’m afraid we have no choice, Buffy. It is in the prophecy. ‘Two friends of the Slayer, skilled in the ways of the Witches, female in gender, one with hair the colour of fire, one with hair the colour of the Sun, lovers together. These are the two that will defeat the vampire Le Feuvre and his clan.’ There is nothing we can do but help them in whatever way possible.” Giles slumped onto a rather uncomfortable wooden chair.
“But Giles, even they don’t know how they’re meant to do it! Will may be one powerful Wicca, but I don’t think she’s got the kind of mojo to pull this one off. You know how long it took for her to progress past floating a pencil!” Frustration caused her to punch the bag suspended from the ceiling. Buffy was not used to taking a back seat.
“She’s not alone. She has Tara and us. Willow has harnessed some pretty powerful Magicks since meeting Tara and I have faith that the two of them will manage it.” He avoided Buffy’s gaze as he spoke. “I will phone my Wiccan friend in Jersey shortly, she may be able to tell us more. Until then, I suggest you train. You may not be taking the lead in this fight but you will still need to be on the ball in order to help them succeed. Now, what’s say we start with agility?” And with that the conversation ended.

*

Xander ran into Dawn at the Mall. Literally ran into her. Tara had just rung him on the cell phone and needed him to get round to the house as soon as possible. Willow hadn’t come round from her fainting fit and she needed help to rouse her.
Dawn was standing outside the food court waiting for her friends to arrive and looking rather bored. She had wandered around the stores for a bit and there was nothing of real interest in any of them. She just wanted to grab a burger with her friends and then wander round aimlessly again, but with company this time.
“Watch where you’re going!” Xander ran straight into Dawn from behind.
“Sorry. Didn’t see... Dawn.”
“Xander, what’s the sitch? You look like you’re on the run from a vamp...” She stopped herself before anyone overheard.
“Nothing. Just got to get back to the Magic box before Anya throws a fit. You know what she’s like.” Xander hoped his face wasn’t giving away the lie.
“Let me guess, she absolutely had to have something and in record time?” Dawn smiled.
“That’s my girl. New perfume. Something about... actually never mind. I’ll see you later, okay?” He flushed as he spoke and ran off before Dawn could reply.
“New perfume? Anya would never send you to buy perfume. You’re hiding something. None of you think I can handle the big bad secrets. I’m just a kid, right?” She muttered after his disappearing form.

*

“Thanks, Cara. I’ll be sure to try that recipe. I’ll send the crystals through UPS. They should be with you sometime next week. Say hello to Rowan for me, and the children. Bye.” Giles put down the phone and removed his glasses, wiping them out of habit before turning to face Buffy and Anya.
“Well?” Buffy was agitated. Giles had spent an hour on the phone and since half of the conversation had been in pidgeon-French she hadn’t understood an awful lot of what he had been saying.
“Well, nothing.” Giles sat staring wearily at the Slayer.
“Giles, a forty-five minute conversation, half of which could only be understood by those who actually paid attention in High School French class does not usually mean nothing.” Buffy looked at him in disbelief.
“Giles...” Anya looked up wearily from the floor where she had collapsed halfway through the conversation. Her pale skin whiter than ever.
“Not now, Anya. There is a time for everything.” Giles knelt beside her, gently lifting her back to her feet.
“But...” She feebly tried to respond but gave in as he looked at her with a face that could have silence a kindergarten class.
“What’s going on here? How come Anya is allowed the 4-1-1 and I’m not?” Buffy pouted like a young child who has seen the presents under the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve but is not allowed to open them until Christmas Day.
“What Anya knows is neither here nor there for the time being. I suggest we make our way back to the house. Anya needs rest and I believe we need to discuss the situation at hand with the others.” And with that Giles swept Anya out of the room. Leaving Buffy to stand there mouthing ‘What situation?’

*

Xander arrived at Buffy’s to find the front door open. He gingerly stepped across the threshold and peered into the hallway. There was no sign of the aftermath of a demonic encounter. The furniture was still in tact, there were no broken windows. And yet the house was unearthly quiet, except from the soft sobbing coming from the kitchen. Xander carefully moved through the house, trying not to make a sound. The weeping was definitely coming from a female owner, but which of the Scoobies it was he wasn’t sure. He thought it may be Tara and yet, her tears were usually silent. It wasn’t Anya, her tears were always punctuated by loud comments. Buffy cried so seldomnly that he was sure it wasn’t her. Dawn had the high-pitched wail of teenage girls down to a tee and as for Willow, the last he had heard, she was passed out on the floor.
“Tara?” He called softly across the kitchen as he entered, unable to see anything apart from Willow’s slippers on the floor.
“Here Xander.” She poked her head round the counter. Dry tears clinging to her face.
“Is... is Will alright?” The sight of the blond Wiccan, her hair dishevelled, the streaks down hair face, made him fear the worst.
“I’m fine Xan. Willow’s voice came from a little way behind Tara. “Just a little confused.”
“But... but... Tara said she couldn’t rouse you. She said you’d been out cold for twenty minutes.” Colour began to return to Xander’s cheeks as he walked round the counter and saw his best friend propped up against the cabinets.
“I was. I think. I couldn’t tell you. I just remember sitting at the counter and the next thing I know, I’ve got Tara kneeling over me begging me to wake up.” She smiled a dazed smile.
“She came round about five minutes before you walked in through the door.” Tara took hold of her girlfriend’s hand as she spoke and began to gently massage the fleshy part of Willow’s hand in between her right forefinger and thumb.
“Just glad to see you’re alright. Now how about we move you into the living room?” Xander knelt down beside the two women.
“An excellent idea.” Giles’s voice reached their ears from the other side of the counter. “We have a lot to discuss and all before Dawn gets home.”

*

Once settled he had helped settle Willow on one of the sofas, Xander sat on the arm of the chair in which Anya sat, still ashen faced. Buffy’s rage had left her on the walk home, she had been too busy partially carrying Anya along the last three blocks for her anger to remain. Now she just sat next to Giles, waiting for him to begin. Tara fell onto the couch next to Willow and once again picked up her lover’s hand. Giles took this as his signal to start. He rose and walked over to the fireplace. Keeping his back turned to the group, he began.
“I spoke to Cara about fifteen minutes ago. What she had to say was... informative. Sketchy in places, but informative none the less. I am afraid as Anya already knows from what she heard of my end of the conversation, what I have to tell you is not the most pleasant of things, nor the easiest. It appears that this is a fight unlike any we have had to face before. One which could, if we were to lose, not only throw Sunnydale into chaos, but cause the destruction of the planet.” Giles remained, back towards them, hands gripping the mantelpiece.
“What’s so different about that? We’ve faced apocalypse before and stopped it in its tracks. We’re like the antidote to the four horseman.” The quietness of Buffy’s voice betrayed the discomfort she was trying to hide. He turned to face them.
“The difference is, that this time, there is nothing we can do. Not you, not Xander and Anya, not me, and certainly not Dawn. This rests in the hands of the two women sitting opposite you.” Willow and Tara stared at each other, panic across their faces.
“We can help in the usual manner, staking the henchmen, creating a diversion, but ultimately, it is down to them. I’m sorry girls but you are our only hope.” As he spoke, he looked at the two Witches, eyes full of sorrow. He hadn’t wanted to tell them like this. But time was moving on and if they didn’t come up with a plan soon, there would be nothing left to save.
“Wait, so we’re like what? The supernatural exorcists or something? Why is it down to us? Is there something you’re not telling us?” Willow’s mouth went into overdrive.
“The prophecy or the part of it which Le Feuvre has is only a summary. It is incomplete. Cara’s coven have had the full prophecy in their possession since its creation. The Witch that foresaw Le Feuvre’s demise was Cara’s ancestor and the founder of the coven of which Cara is now High Priestess. Unfortunately the prophecy does not dictate how you are to bring about the demise of this vampire. Only that he is, in someway, connected to Dracula himself. Whilst Buffy may have defeated Dracula, Le Feuvre is still more than a match for her. He has taken precautions unthought of by his predecessor and in doing so has become stronger than him as well. These precautions are Magickal of that we can be sure, but what they are exactly we will never know. For after Witches cast the spell, he killed them. Destroying their Book of Shadows and any other evidence that may give clues to his demise. I’m sorry girls, but that is all I know. That and that Cara’s coven believe the key lies somewhere in the blood of the Slayer. Not Buffy’s blood, but the blood of the Slayer he killed.” Giles removed his glasses, placed them on the mantelpiece and wiped his brow with his handkerchief.
“Blood of the Slayer? Giles I hate to tell you this, but that Slayer’s been dead for centuries!” Xander spoke up, disbelief and sarcasm surging through his voice.
“Xander, quiet. Giles what did she mean by that? If not my blood, then how can it be hers? Xander does have a point though. I mean her blood’s not exactly still gonna be liquid after all these years is it?” There was no trace of sarcasm in Buffy’s voice. It was an earnest question, asked with trepidation.
“I don’t know. It’s as much as Cara could tell me. Maybe some more research into the killing might...”
“I know what it means.” Anya’s voice was barely audible. Just above a whisper, but not quite her natural speech. The others looked at her, waiting for her to continue.
“It’s not the Slayer’s blood, more her bloodline. We need to track down her descendants.” Anya looked at her lap as she spoke, waiting for the reaction she knew she’d receive.
“But Anya, she h... has no descendents. Her...her children were killed by Le Feuvre and his group.” Tara looked at the shopkeeper with mild confusion.
“Maybe one survived. Maybe she had a brother. I don’t know, but there must be some descendent somewhere. Otherwise the prophecy wouldn’t mention the need for the blood. Now, if you don’t mind I think I need to lie down. Xander, take me home.” She rose unsteadily from her position and headed for the front door. Leaving Xander to say a hurried goodbye.
Chapter Four

Willow sat at the dining table, her iBook open, trawling the Internet for family records of the past Slayer. It was proving an arduous task for the young woman. She had sent the others to bed hours earlier, knowing that she would be unable to sleep and that there was no point in them staying up after they had exhausted the possibilities in the literature they had in the house. Dawn was staying at a friend’s house for the night, and so they had been free to discuss the issue at hand. Giles had been the hardest to push upstairs but as Tara had pointed out to him, he hadn’t been to bed in over twenty-four hours and he would be of no use to anyone come the following day. That had been the breaking point and Willow was grateful to her girlfriend for that. She needed the quiet of the early morning hours to concentrate fully and Giles asking for progress reports every half an hour would have annoyed her immensely.
The search was frustrating. Each time she thought she had found a lead, it ended with a dead end. At half past three in the morning she decided to take a break and headed into the kitchen to get a snack. She filled the kettle and flicked the switch, pulled out a peppermint tea bag and a mug from the cupboard and headed over to the refrigerator. Opening the door, she took a look inside. There was a couple of bags of blood for Spike, O-negative, his preferred variety, and some more edible pieces of food, but nothing that took Willow’s fancy. She shut the door with a sigh, she wasn’t really hungry anyway. The kettle boiled and Willow allowed it to cool a moment before adding the water to her mug. Then, tea bag still in the water, she carried it back through to the dining room and settled back onto her chair.
Willow had left the computer running, she had found a program on the net that would search through the site she was on and do some of the work for her. So far, it had managed to find twenty-four names that tallied with that of the Slayer and her birth place and it was eighty-nine percent of the way through its search. At least she wouldn’t have to go searching for the name herself. The problem was that she would then have to go through each of the different ‘Estelle Le Brun’s’ and check for herself if they were the Slayer or not. The programme did not have the capabilities to search for the year in which she was born and consequently when it had finished running, Willow was able to delete fifteen of the final twenty-eight due to the fact that they had all been born in the twentieth century. That still left her with thirteen to trawl through. She sat back and began her detailed search on the first one.

*

Tara tossed and turned in her bed as she slept. She was dreaming of the final battle. In her dream, she and Willow were in the tunnels under Spike’s crypt. The area in which they were standing was barely lit by burning torches dotted around the large cavernous area. There were tunnels shooting off in all directions and this seemed to be their meeting point. The high ceiling, adorned by the interlocking roots of trees older than the cemetery itself had water dripping from it and the floor was covered in compacted earth with rocks sticking through in odd places. This place was one of darkness. One where the vampires could easily find themselves at home, able to slip into the shadows created by the lack of adequate light. Down here in this subterranean world, Willow and Tara would have to keep their wits about them. Whilst the place seemed empty, dream Tara could hear movement in the darkness, she could feel the glare of vampire eyes and as she looked towards the spot where dream Willow should be, she felt something sharp between her shoulder blades.
Tara woke with a start. For a moment, dazed and confused, she struggled to understand where she was. As her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness to the bedroom and her bare skin once again felt the bed sheets, she relaxed. It had only been a dream, just a terrible nightmare. She rose from the bed and walked over to the chest of drawers. Opening the top drawer, Tara pulled out a box of matches and a fresh white night light. She placed it on top of a terracotta tile which lay on the chest and lit the little candle, knowing that its light would last until she was safely asleep again. As she climbed back into bed she focused on the flame of the candle, allowing it to guide her safely back to sleep. Determined not to mention this dream to Willow, she closed her eyes and sleep took over. This time leading her to a pleasant place, one where only she and Willow ever ventured.

*

Giles lay awake in bed. He had allowed Tara’s comment about him needing to sleep to push him up the stairs, yet now that he was there, he was unable to close his eyes. His brain was racing with all the things that tend to hit before sleep and he couldn’t seem to shut it down. All the anxieties of the past week or so were now at the forefront of his mind and as much as he tried to push them away he couldn’t. Giles was worried, not just for Willow and Tara, but for all the Scoobies. In their little group, he was the father figure, the one they all turned to for advice, and this time he was running out of answers. Telling Buffy that this time she was not the one who would be leading the battle had been hard, he knew she’d take it hard, and now he really wondered whether she would manage to take the back seat she knew she’d have to. Xander’s face when he had found out about the prophecy had caused the older man to flinch. The heartache in those eyes, the intensity of the realisation, the lack of jokes, Giles knew that the young man had understood the severity at once. Even Anya had been shocked by it all. In fact out of all the Scoobies, she had probably taken it the worst, although Giles could not see why. Yet her profound lack of bluntness and stating the obvious showed just how hard the ex-demon had been hit by it all. This was probably the hardest challenge that they had ever faced and how on earth they were meant to keep all of this from Dawn was beyond his comprehension. Yet that’s what they all seemed to want, so Giles would do his best to make sure it wasn’t him that let it slip to the teenager.

*

Buffy had fallen asleep just after saying goodbye to Xander and Anya. The pair had reluctantly gone back to their apartment to get some much needed shut eye. Buffy had insisted they go. She knew how much it would upset Willow if she thought that Xander was worried he may never see his best friend again. Whilst it was playing on all of their minds that if something went wrong, Willow and Tara could be gone forever, Buffy was determined to use the same reserve Giles often used when his charges faced a danger worse than any other. She pursed her lips and pushed them firmly out the door. Which unsurprisingly had left Xander and Anya flat on their backs in the middle of the garden path, but they took the hint and slowly traipsed to Xander’s car, looking back half-heartedly to see if Buffy would relent, but knowing that she wouldn’t.
Buffy’s sleep was dreamless. For the first time in as long as she would be able to remember, when she woke in the morning, she would wake feeling refreshed and ready for battle. The deep sleep that encompassed her was a blessed relief from the now insurmountable worry for her two Wiccan friends. Tonight was respite indeed for the young Slayer with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

*

Downstairs in the dining room, Willow had gotten halfway through the list in front of her. Every time she thought she’d made a breakthrough she met another dead end. The frustration was building inside the young Wiccan and she was beginning to feel the overwhelming pressure upon her shoulders. She decided to bookmark the page she was on, do one more search and then go to bed. Willow’s eyes were red and itchy with tiredness as she randomly chose one out of the remaining six. She began to cross-reference the Estelle on the screen with the limited information she already had and as she continued her eyes drooped. Within minutes her head had hit the table beside the still whirring laptop and she was snoring gently. As the screensaver kicked in and pictures of her friends darted across the screen, Willow’s unconscious mind took her on a journey that she wouldn’t remember on waking.

*

The following day, Tara came downstairs to find her girlfriend propped up on the table still in the clothes from the night before. She left Willow to sleep and headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. The early morning light was creeping in through the glass in the back door, bathing the room in a warm glow which filled Tara with hope for the coming day. It was this hope that shone through as she hummed to herself whilst making pancakes for the sleeping beauty in the next door room. She loaded up a tray with a pile of hot goodies, a glass of orange juice and a rose from the vase on the window sill before heading back into the dining room.
As she walked into the room, Willow stirred. The Wiccan beauty sat up, eyes still closed and rolled her head. Something that she regretted doing instantly. Sleeping in such an awkward position had caused her neck to stiffen and the pain that came as she rolled her head was incredible. As her head rolled, her vertebrae clicked and that clicking sent pain shooting through her. Willow opened her eyes and allowed them to focus on the woman standing in front of her. She smiled through the pain in her neck as she saw Tara.
“Morning, Baby.” Willow’s voice was hoarse from the way her throat had been compressed by her sleeping position.
“Morning, Sweetie. Want some breakfast?” Tara smiled at Willow.
“Mmm, please. But first, how about a cuddle?” As Willow gazed into the loving eyes of her girlfriend, Tara put down the tray on the table and walked round to Willow’s side. She leant over the back of Willow’s chair and place her arms around her shoulders, nuzzling her head into Willow’s neck. A morning greeting that lasted momentarily as Willow’s hand knocked the trackpad on her laptop and the screen came back to life. Tara’s eyes fluttered upwards and something on the screen caught her attention.
“Willow, is this what you were working on before you fell asleep?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t getting very far though.” Her brow furrowed with disappointment.
“Well did you notice this before you went to sleep?” Tara pointed to an area of the screen.
“Notice what? Oh wait I see. No I didn’t. That’s strange, very strange.” Willow stared at the information in front of her in disbelief. According to what she saw on the screen in front of her, the details fitted the Slayer. The Estelle Le Brun on the screen was of the right age when she died, had children, also deceased, and was definitely a possibility. The only thing that was different from the information they already had was the presence of a third child. A baby born just before Le Feuvre had come to power. The little girl had from what Willow could gather been passed over to her aunt for safe keeping, although why was not disclosed.
“Maybe I should go and get Giles.” Tara looked at Willow.
“In a bit, let him sleep. Let’s eat first and then I’ll have a shower. I want to make sure I’ve got the right one before we pass on any information.” She reached across the table and pulled the tray towards her.

*

Three hours later, the two Witches sat in the dining room once more. This time with the rest of the Scoobies. The were relaying the information about the one surviving child of Estelle Le Brun. A girl called Sandrine. After the death of her mother the young woman had been raised by her aunt and Willow’s research showed that Sandrine had lived to a ripe old age. She had had four children, the eldest of which was a girl named after her mother, one of the Estelles that had been on Willow’s original list. From there the family tree had been fairly easy to research and Willow had reached the early half of the twentieth century with amazing rapidity. As Tara talked, Willow sat typing and searching for Estelle’s more recent descendants. It was proving to be easier than she had thought.
“So what you’re saying is that there was a kid Le Feuvre knew nothing about?” Buffy looked at Tara quizzically.
“Basically yes. Apparently Estelle had sensed the coming danger and passed the child over to her sister for safekeeping. She had lost her husband three years earlier. Although we’re not sure what happened to him.” Tara gave the group the information in a matter-of-fact manner to avoid emotional attachment to the deceased Slayer’s plight.
“But why not give the sister all of the children to take care of?” Xander looked confused.
“We don’t know. Maybe she thought she could protect them.” Willow looked up over her laptop.
“As much as I hate to say it, that fact is irrelevant at this precise time. What is paramount is that we find the most recent member of Estelle’s family tree.” Giles spoke from across the room. He had so far remained silent, taking in the information that his two young friends had managed to aquire.
“As always Giles speaks the truth. So Will, any chance on narrowing it right down before the next encounter of the vamp kind?” Buffy looked at her friend.
“Another hour or two and I should have it sorted. All the info’s there I just have to make sure I follow all the possibilities. Go to work Buffy. There’s not much more you can do at the moment.” Willow smiled as she spoke.
“But... I mean... what if?”
“We’ll ring you when we have more information. Dawn will be back soon and we need to keep things as normal as possible for her.” Giles, forever the voice of reason, gave Buffy the one speech he knew would motivate her.
“Right that’s settled. I’ll drop you of at the Doublemeat Palace and Anya at the Magic Box. Then I’ll head down to the site and check on the boys. Come on, let’s leave the research team to it.” Xander looked at the two women standing either side of him with an expression that said ‘that’s settled then.’ Neither Buffy or Anya bothered to argue.

*

The search on the net took a little longer than Willow had anticipated it would. Because the lineage she was following was matrilineal, the surnames kept changing with each generation. Whilst the female descendants of Estelle Le Brun were reliable in the sense that for some reason the rarely gave birth to sons, the amount of children each generation had varied greatly. One thing they all did seem to have in common was a major religion change in the mid eighteenth century. One that looked as if they had been trying to hide from some hidden force. Willow wondered if Le Feuvre had reared his head because the religion change also went hand in hand with a mass immigration of the family to America. Once in the States, the family had separated, dotting themselves around the map. It was obvious that they didn’t want to be found all that easily. At the time it was a good plan, even with the paper trail they left behind them, after all in the days before computers and internet searches it would have taken Le Feuvre and his cohorts forever to track each one down individually.
Willow looked up from her screen. Her search had reached the mid nineteen thirties and her eyes needed a brief rest. Giles was nowhere to be seen. She thought she’d heard Dawn come home a while ago, so she figure that he was distracting the teenager. Tara had fallen asleep over a pile of Magick books. The research had taken it out of her temporarily. The redheaded Wiccan smiled to herself. She raised her hands above the keyboard of her laptop and muttered something under her breath. A white light shone momentarily around her and the computer as information whizzed across the screen. Willow’s eyes turned black as she magically skimmed the net. As soon as the effects of the spell appeared, they were gone. Willow had before her the result she was looking for. There in front of her was the name of the descendent she and Tara needed to find in order to make their magickal attack work. The thing was, the descendent in question was the very person who had begun the internet search in the first place.
Willow stared in disbelief at the screen in front of her. She couldn’t understand it. Surely there had been a mistake somewhere. A magickal backfire perhaps? Yet she knew that there had been no mistake in the spell. It was one she had used before to find information she needed. How could she be the descendant of a Slayer? If it had been Tara she would have accepted it without question. If it had been Buffy or Dawn, well self-explanatory. Xander or Giles? Well that would have been a bit strange since she was pretty sure that it was the matrilineal DNA that was required, but still it would have made sense. Hell, even Anya being the descendant would have made more sense than this! It wasn’t written anywhere in the prophecy that one of the Witches who would defeat the vampire gang was one of the great-great-great-great-whatever-granddaughters of the Slayer he had killed! Willow knew that for a fact - she’d had it beside her whilst she was searching. She wanted to scream, she tried to scream, but all that came out of her mouth was a flurry of silent air being forced from her lungs.