Chapter 10



Tara watched silently as she studied Spike’s aura shift and change. The colors that were once fiery and bright seemed dim and flickering. The Wiccan knew the vampire’s mood could alter the appearance of his aura, but what she was seeing had her deeply disturbed; the grayish tones looked as if a vacuum under the floor was siphoning them off his body, draining what was him away. Spike was in trouble. If Spike’s aura was gone, that meant his life force was in danger too. What could be happening to him? What would have the power to do such a thing? Tara looked at Spike, really looked at him. He somehow looked paler than normal, his cheekbones even more pronounced than usual.

Spike realized Tara was watching him, and quickly stifled his sobs. “Right, then. We need to go over this once more. I think I was the last one to see Buffy.”

He went on to recount exactly what she had been wearing when he last saw her. While he was talking, Tara left the room quickly to return a moment later with a tan suede jacket.

“This one? Is this the one she was wearing?” She handed the jacket to Spike, who immediately inhaled its scent deeply. Buffy…where are you?.

Turning the jacket over in his hands, Spike looked for a clue. Then he found one. On the inside of thee right sleeve, Buffy had a secret pocket that she kept Mr. Pointy in. She always had it, in case of an emergency. Spike hesitantly touched the worn whittled wood of Buffy’s good luck charm. “Tara, she would never leave the house without this stake. Something bad has happened. Who searched the house?”

“I don’t think anyone actually searched it, Spike. I knew she wasn’t in her room or in here. I just assumed she was out. Oh Goddess, do you think she’s hurt somewhere in the house?” Tara and Spike both jumped up and started screaming out her name, begging her to answer.

Spike flew up the stairs; every door could be heard as he flung it open. Panic was audible in his voice as he called out for her.

Tara looked around the main level, then went out to the small back yard, calling loudly for Buffy. Nothing.

Meeting back in the kitchen, both Tara and Spike were panting and panicked, as they looked to each other for answers. That’s when Tara noticed something about Spike’s aura. The colors had changed once more to a muddy brown. He was standing in front of the basement door, and his aura was being pulled under it. She felt her stomach churn. “The basement. I think she’s in the basement.” She didn’t have time to tell him why she thought that. Spike was already rushing down the stairs, calling for his love once more.

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Buffy sat before Groma and looked into the woman’s face. The lines and scars told a story of a hard life, one filled with worry for her adopted daughter. The lines seemed to have deepened since Buffy had arrived. Kaia was there, clinging to the hope that Groma would believe her. She knew what was done to clan members who suffered from delusions, and Groma being the medicine woman, was the one to perform the horrific surgeries. Taking Groma’s hand in her own, Buffy and Kaia were about to tell her everything.

“Let me begin by saying I am not crazy. No matter how crazy what I am about to tell you may sound, please find it in you to trust me, and believe in me.” Buffy struggled with her wording as she remembered the days she has spent in the mental hospital. She suddenly felt all her emotions from that experience flood her mind. The memories were so painful, and now it felt like she was preparing to go through it all over again. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and searched for the next thing to say.

Groma watched as her daughter struggled to say the words. Something was very different about her face; her eyes seemed so sad, almost tortured. The woman knew the things the child had ever experienced in her short life could have caused the distress that was evident on Kaia’s face. Something had changed. The older woman had first noticed something was wrong after the girl had fainted. Looking back over the recent events with Kahn, she realized that Kaia’s behavior was very unfamiliar to her. She had known the child to be headstrong, but never confident, and certainly not when faced with the Elders. She should have realized something had happened. “Kaia, I have never loved anyone but you. I trust anything you say to be the truth. I can see you are clearly tortured not only by this secret, but also by your fear of telling me. Child, let go of your fears. Look at me. I want you to tell me whatever you need me to know, and I am prepared to hear it.”


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Spike had stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Tara, right behind him, saw his whole body tense and he appeared to be sniffing the air. His aura was now a dusky orange, which was closer to his original red. The Wiccan remained silent as Spike walked over to a corner of the basement where a stack of old cardboard boxes piled high.

“She’s here,” Spike said as he began picking up the boxes and throwing them off to the side as quickly as he could, eager to find her.

Tara immediately jumped to action, helping him move the crates from the corner. When they cleared them out of the way, what they saw surprised them both. There was nothing there.

Spike fell to his knees, clawing at the floor, the wall, sobbing and crying out for the Slayer.“Buffy! Where are you? I know you’re here! Please, pet, say something!”

Silence.

Spike collapsed against the wall, pulling his knees to his chest. “How could I be so wrong?” Looking to Tara for answers, he pleaded, “I can’t lose her again. I know I can feel her here. I smell her scent. Am I losing my mind?”

Tara had been looking around as well and had failed to see Spike’s aura once more change again. It once more seemed to be pulling away from him and into the corner. “Spike, I think she is here. Something mystical is hiding her, but I think she’s right next to you.”


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Buffy swallowed and opened her teary eyes to a woman she barely knew. Groma was looking at her with love she couldn’t recognize. She knew that Joyce had loved her, but when she told had told her mother of the vampires, doubt had clouded her mother’s features immediately. Looking to Groma, she prayed she wouldn’t have to relive that moment.

“The face you see before you is your daughter’s face. The voice you’re hearing is your daughter’s voice. But I am not your daughter.” Buffy paused, waiting for Groma’s reaction.

Groma listened intently, her mind filled with memories of her own mother; a woman who had many times told her of magic and mystical things. She had spoken of things yet to come. She was a woman wise in many ways, and was revered by the clan. The same mother who had told her that she would have a daughter of her own one-day. She was to be a powerful child that would be given to her by the spirit guide, a child who would be like no other. As she listened to Kaia speak, she felt no fear, no reason to disbelieve, only the need to hear her out, to ease her torment.

“Go on, child. Tell me what has happened.” She squeezed her daughter’s hand, encouraging her to continue.

Buffy’s tears flowed, not from sorrow, but from gratitude. Groma wanted to hear. Wanted to listen. Buffy looked into the cave woman’s eyes, and saw that nothing had changed. She pulled her into a tight hug, emotions long built-up from her own life spilling out. Sobbing into the woman’s shoulder, she told of her death, her resurrection, and of Kaia’s connection. She told of the spell that brought her there and how Kaia was still within her.

Groma was overwhelmed but overjoyed by the now shared secret. “I now have two daughters who need my love. New daughter, welcome to my hearth. Now what should I call you?”