Get Bent by cjsplace

Get Bent ~ 8

Buffy walked into the vineyard with an infectious confidence. Beck couldn't hide the grin on his face, watching the swagger in her walk. He admired her spunk and would do anything in his power to ensure nothing ever dimmed it.

Caleb watched the Bringers bustle about. He grew tired with the continuous waiting for the Slayer to show up. The First promised that the nasty little girl would show, but so far, she hadn't, and Caleb's patience was running out. A smile broke out on his face when he saw Buffy walk in followed by three men. It pleased Caleb to know that he would have an audience to witness his greatest battle - the Slayer's defeat.

"Back for more, little girl? Who do I get to torture this time? Look at them sniffing after you like a bitch in heat." Spittle flew from his mouth, and his eyes took on a fanatical gleam as he taunted her.

"Can I just say, eew? You should work on your bad guy spiel. It is more gross than intimidating; but what can you expect from a puppet?" Buffy grinned, watching Caleb's face turn red at her words. She moved closer, waiting for the right time to strike. Her hazel eyes became a deep, forest green. If Beck could see them, the panther at the zoo would have immediately sprung to mind. Buffy cocked a hip to the side, her arms relaxed at her sides, she appeared the very picture of calm before the storm. A playful smirk crossed pouty lips as a small hand raised to wave the First's minion into battle in a perfect Bruce Lee impression.

A strangled cry escaped Caleb's throat before he launched himself at his blonde nemesis. He would take great pleasure in destroying this bitch. Throwing a meaty fist at her head, the momentum causing him to stumble into a wine cask when he missed. Buffy's laughter coming from behind him had Caleb spinning around, arms up, fists clenched, and ready to go again. Stopping mid-strike, there in front of him stood Buffy laughing at the First and ignoring him. He, the First's right hand, its weapon here on Earth, its means to pass over and become corporeal was being ignored by a woman. The last shreds of sanity buried deep in Caleb's psyche shredded, scattering with the wind. The First in its Buffy guise smiled, a satisfied, knowing smile.

"Of all the people who you could pick to be, the best that you could come up with is me? I'm flattered, but seeing how I'm walking around in my own Buffy-suit, I'd appreciate it if you'd get out of my face, bitch."

An angry roar alerted Buffy that she needed to back to Caleb. It was entertaining to watch him turn that interesting shade of purple. The First sat its metaphysical butt on a wine cask, waiting for the show to start. It couldn't say that it was pleased at the changes in the Slayer. Knowing that the Hellmouth's problems would force the Warrior of the Light home, the Slayer that returned wasn't the same one that left. What was even more frustrating was that the First couldn't get to the girl. No matter that this battle's outcome had been orchestrated, helped along the way by the Watcher's Council and Buffy's own friends and lovers, nothing could stand in the way.

Buffy pushed off from the ground, going straight up and over Caleb's head to land behind him. A swift right hook had him staggering back from the blow. She didn't offer him an opportunity to recover; her left fist came around hitting him with the force of a jackhammer. Caleb shook his head trying to clear his vision; this wasn't supposed to happen. His master had given him the power to defeat this dirty girl.

She felt the Slayer just under her skin, an extension of herself like blood, tissue and bone. The control belonged to her, not the Slayer, the power hers to release or withhold. The knowledge gleaned from this information, this dawning recognition, allowed Buffy to utilize the Slayer power like any other weapon, and use it she did.

Caleb hurled himself at Buffy, intent on tackling her to the ground. His momentum and outright rage allowed the move to work, sort of. He caught her around the waist, taking them to the floor.

Beck started forward, until a Bringer jumped out at him. They swarmed the open area; their dark robes, small bodies, and stitched eyes gave them an uncanny resemblance to ants. The shotgun in Beck's hand lit up the room, scattering Bringer bits about the place.

Spike answered a deep growl from a Turok-Han that followed closed behind the robed wonders. The wiry vampire worked hard at avoiding the long claws while darting in and doing as much damage as possible.

Travis' head darted back and forth, unsure where to go or who to help. A lone Bringer solved his dilemma, when it sliced a narrow cut into his arm. "That's my favorite shirt, Raggedy Andy!" Kicking the Bringer away from him, Travis winced when he felt guts hit him in the face seconds after a gun blast. He quickly wiped the muck from his face to catch Beck's huge grin. Cussing under his breath and swearing retribution, Travis started firing his gun.

Buffy flipped Caleb underneath her. She thought she would puke when she felt him harden. Knowing her weapon was more powerful than even Slayer strength - girl power, an evil gleam entered her hazel eyes. They sparkled with knowledge as old as Eve. Leaning forward, pitching her voice low, Buffy questioned, "I thought you didn't like girls, Caleb. We are dirty, right? Bad, nasty creatures, isn't that what you said? How come here in the middle of a fight, you're the one with the dirty thoughts, the one whose getting turned on while the big showdown is happening? Someone should teach you a lesson."

Caleb couldn’t speak, couldn't think. In those sparse few moments, he was back in that place. He was watching, wanting the woman to do to him what she did to all those men, wanting anyone to pay him the least bit of attention, to touch him, to let him out of the closet she forced him to hide in while she tended to business. He felt a hand slap his cheek.

"Are you having an out of body experience, or what?" Buffy asked, watching the pseudo-preacher's eyes roll back in his head, and his body go limp. Although Caleb was the enemy, she couldn't bring herself to kill him when he was off in La La Land.

Caleb shoved her off him and got up. The fire in his eyes returned tenfold, and the smile on his face one of evil conviction. He understood why he had to kill the Slayer, why he had to help the First triumph, and no one, particularly a dirty, little girl, was going to stop him. Grabbing the Slayer by her shirt, he hurled her across the open space into a far wall.

Buffy landed several feet away from a door in the ground. She noted the changes in Caleb, but a new discovery had her preoccupied. What the First was hiding was sitting in front of her. She could feel it. After checking to make sure everyone was holding their own, Buffy dove for the trapdoor.

Screaming in horror, Caleb rushed after her. The First smiling Buffy Summers’ smile cheered him on. "Go get her. You can't let her get it." He jumped down as always, ever ready to do his master's bidding.

There, lodged in stone like Excalibur, stood a red, black, and silver Scythe. An ethereal light shone down on it, giving it an otherworldly appearance. Buffy felt drawn to the gleaming weapon; her feet moved without her even knowing it. Reaching out a hand to clasp the long hilt, she stopped when Caleb's voice screeched from behind.

"Don't touch that! You couldn't remove it anyway, you're not strong enough." His face folded into a sneer.

Ignoring the taunting and going on pure instinct, Buffy pulled the Scythe from its burial place. She almost giggled, expecting Merlin to pop into the cramped quarters. Caleb backed away, frightened for the first time. The Scythe was a beautiful weapon, perfectly weighted and crafted to eliminate the enemy using the sharp blade or the pointed wooden handle.

Buffy and Caleb eyed each other. They knew there could only be only one winner. The shaft where they stood didn't leave much room, but Buffy had fought in tighter spots. Caleb cut her musing short by launching himself at her arms, intent on knocking the Scythe from her hands. It almost worked, almost. Buffy jerked back, hitting the Scythe's former home with a grunt, before walking her feet up the sides and pushing off. Swinging the Scythe's blade around, she struck Caleb with the flat side. He staggered back enough to offer her room to stand. The blade continued its arc, while Buffy used it to pull herself around and behind Caleb.

The First Evil popped into view. It stood in front of Caleb, looking like his mother before morphing into a kaleidoscope of the women he'd killed throughout his life. Returning to Buffy's form, it gazed at its warrior with what could be mistaken for pity. Caleb's eyes remained glued on his master, frozen in time as the silver blade removed his head.

Buffy observed her enemy, uncertain what it would do since she'd killed its number one minion. The First gave her the supreme wiggins. To see the ultimate evilness dancing around in her body recalled bad memories of Faith.

Fading into Drusilla, and in a singsong voice, said, "You took my black knight, so I will take your white. Scamper, scamper, like a mouse. The moon whispers, ssp, ssp, ssp. They fight, but can't win. I want to dance, but you took my Spike away, bad Slayer. No more dancing, fire pretty." The First winked out of sight.

"Stupid, evil guys, always with the talking and the cryptic crap. Not only is this the biggest bad, it pops up looking like me, then changes into the battiest vamp around who talks like a fruit cake," Buffy continued speaking to herself as she crawled out of the tunnel.

Beck, Spike, and Travis stood around leaning against the walls, breathing heavily, bodies lay strewn about the floor along with several large piles of dust.

The warning played repeatedly in her head, forcing her feet to keep moving. She allowed a sidewise glance at her guys, reassuring herself that they were okay and walked straight out the vineyard entrance into the night. Closing her eyes, Buffy tried to pinpoint where the others could be, where the threat lay hidden, waiting for them. Her connection to Faith leapt to life, and her sister Slayer answered.

Beck gathered himself together and took off after Buffy. The relief he felt when he saw that small hand pulling her up out of that hole, well, words just couldn't describe it. The realization that this had been her life for the past seven years was daunting. Every night facing monsters, never knowing if you'll survive, only to get up and do it all over again, until you die, and even then, you don't escape. No wonder she left when they kicked her out. Beck promised himself that if they survived this, he wouldn't let Buffy's friends take away the freedom she found in New Orleans. There's another Slayer, Faith, yeah that's her name. She can be 'the Slayer'. Buffy can lead her life, and the rest can just get bent.

He saw her standing bathed in the moonlight, resembling a warrior queen. The moon turned her blonde tresses into shades of silver and bronze, lightly tanned skin became outlined in silver, in her hand was the Scythe - a weapon worthy of an ancient Amazon. Creating a picture that would cause man or beast to stop and worship at its beauty, the hidden allure infused within the Slayer and powered by the moon itself.

Buffy smiled when powerful arms wrapped around her small waist. She heard Spike's and Travis' footsteps behind them and knew they would be joining them soon.

"The others are in trouble; let's go."

She gave Beck's arm a quick squeeze before taking off toward town. Pulling on the connection to Faith, allowing it to direct her feet, Buffy moved through the streets. A few brave vamps and demons tried to stop them, but the Scythe moved of its own volition. Buffy and the mystical weapon seemed to act as one unit, an extension of each other.

The three men following her, as best they could, weren't sure what to think about what they were seeing. Spike, who should be used to the weird and wacky, kept a wary eye on the Slayer and her new toy.

Buffy paused for the briefest moment outside the Bronze. She heard the others about to round the corner and barreled inside, knowing they would be right behind her. The Scythe came alive in her hands, sweeping Bringers away as she worked her way into the club’s open area.

"Get out, it's a trap," she screamed at Faith.

She took in the situation with one glance. Bringers had Gunn and Cordelia surrounded. A Turok-Han had Angel backed into a corner while Faith fought one on the stage. Willow knelt over Robin's prone body, holding up a protective shield, while Bringers hammered against it blindly with their hands and knives.

"Help Willow,” she ordered over her shoulder. “Get the others out of here. I’ll follow later."

Angel blinked, trying to clear the dust from his eyes. One minute he's fighting for his life, the next he's choking on the Sahara. He looked up to see Buffy standing there for a split second, before she moved on to help Faith. He noticed Spike helping Cordelia while Buffy's boyfriend blasted the Bringer's surrounding Willow, allowing the other man to help with Robin. A scream brought Angel back to the matter at hand. Jumping into the fray, he saved Gunn from a Bringer's knife.

"We need to get out of here, head toward the door."

The two friends worked together clearing a path to the exit. Spike saw what they were doing and tossed Cordelia over his shoulder. A loud shriek of protest earned a swift swat to a well-rounded rear.

"Pipe down, cheerleader, this is a rescue."

Cordelia wouldn't admit it to anyone, but the accent and deep gravely voice did wonderful things to her body. A huge grin spread across Spike's face as he raced from the Bronze with his bounty in tow. Oh yeah, I still got it. I'm a bad, crude man.

Beck's shotgun never stopped blasting. It seemed to have an endless supply of bullets. "Travis, get them out, now!" He watched his friend and a small red head grab the unconscious man. They started for the doorway when a Bringer decided Travis would look better as sushi. It pushed Beck’s temper over the edge. His guns blazed, his fists and feet flew out in every direction, sending the sightless minions flying.

Willow almost dropped Robin in shock. "Is he a vampire, too?" She saw a long muscular leg snap out to almost knock a Bringer's head off its shoulders."

"Nope, he's just getting pissed," Travis explained, grinning while nudging her to keep moving. "The building is still standing, so he isn't too mad."

Willow supported Robin's shoulders, straining under the weight. She kept throwing glances over her shoulder at the new man in Buffy's life. Speaking of Buffy, Willow searched the room for her friend, finally finding her with Faith. The younger Slayer lay unconscious on the floor while Buffy fought the Turok-Han. Travis shoved her out the backdoor, before she could see anything else.

Buffy stood over Faith's prone body, staving off the Turok-Han with the Scythe. She couldn't end the fight without leaving the injured Slayer prey to the Bringers.

"Beck," she screamed over her shoulder. "I need you." Buffy knew he hadn’t left with the others, not without her. Even without the gunshots marking his movement, she could feel him getting closer. "Take Faith, I'll be right behind you."

Buffy smiled when she overheard the growl escape his lips as he snatched Faith from the stage. Beck caressed Buffy's leg prior to blasting a route to the door. He exited the building to join the others. Beck placed Faith beside Robin and turned back to watch the door.

"Where's Buffy? How could you leave her in there alone? I thought that you loved her?" Angel hurled angry accusations at him.

The silent figure never turned away from the doorway, never acknowledging the others around him. He had one focus, one purpose, and that was Buffy's return to him.

"Uh, mister, don't know you, but you might want to shut up. That’s if you want to keep on living," Travis informed Angel.

A snort from Spike's direction reverberated in the alley.

The Turok-Han's claws swept across her stomach. Buffy's adrenaline kept her from feeling it, but she knew it would hurt something fierce later. In the far corner of the stage, she saw it; a bomb with only seconds to go before blasting them to smithereens. Buffy realized she didn’t have much time. She turned her back on the ancient vampire, knowing it would attack. She swung the Scythe at the Bringers that swarmed her flanks, forcing them back. At the last possible moment, she slid the shaft through her hands for a direct hit to the Turok-Han’s heart. It exploded into dust, and Buffy used the diversion to propel herself from the stage.

Squatting down, she pushed up through the dust, over the Bringers, with her arms held close to her body, Buffy twirled in the air like a top. She tucked her head down and rolled to a stop, immediately standing at the ready. The Scythe whistled through the air, destroying the Bringers as her foot struck the back door. The explosion shot her clear of the building with only mild abrasions and burns.

Beck took off like a shot. The others didn't even realize what had occurred until they saw Buffy in his arms. Spike and Travis held them back as best they could. Beck sat down gently with Buffy curled on his lap. He checked her for serious injuries, then released a huge sigh of relief when he didn't find any. She nestled closer, feeling safe and secure in his arms, knowing he would take care of her. Buffy relaxed and allowed the exhaustion to take over as she slipped into unconsciousness. Slowly getting up without disturbing his precious cargo, Beck started walking toward Buffy's house. Spike and Travis silently followed behind him, their eyes on the small blonde who still cradled the Scythe against her breast.

Angel stared after them for a moment before taking charge. Picking up Robin, he signaled for Gunn to grab Faith and follow Buffy's team. Willow and Cordelia leaned on each other, too exhausted to question where they were going or why.

Buffy heard the steady thump of Beck's heart beneath her ear. It lulled her into a deeper sleep, a sleep where dreams overtook her. A barren dessert lay before her as far as she could see, only sand and dunes surrounded her. In the distance, a shadow moved against the blazing sun. Buffy shaded her eyes to see who was approaching. The shadow grew stronger, more distinct, taking on shape the closer it got, until it became clear it was someone or something wrapped in black robes from head to foot. It walked slowly with single-minded purpose, directly at her. Buffy felt frozen in place, unable to speak or move.

The figure stopped and slowly unwrapped the robe revealing - a body with no face. Where the face should have been lay murky ever-shifting clouds. Buffy didn’t know what to do or say. The longer she gazed into the cloudy specter it started to change. The clouds rolled back providing glimpses into the possible paths available to her.

She looked down to find her clothes altered to a flowing white dress. Her head felt strangely heavy. She hesitantly reached up and pulled off a crown of the purest white marble.

The figure suddenly spoke; its voice wispy and fine. Buffy sensed the words enveloping her, wrapping around and seeping into her skin.

White must conquer the black
Not by might but by right
Each thing taken must be returned
Protection is the question and the answer

Buffy startled awake and Beck tightened his hold to keep from dropping her.

"Are you okay?" His dark eyes examined her face, his voice deep with worry.

She nodded unable to speak as the prophetic dream weighed heavy on her mind.

Beck rubbed his chin against her head in a soothing caress as he stepped onto the front porch.

Momma stood in the living room with a large bowl of scented water ready and a washcloth in her hand. "Set her on the couch, boy. Let Momma see," she ordered.

"I'm okay, Momma, just tired," Buffy protested, lifting her head as her eyes fluttered open.

"Hush, girl. Momma's gonna fix you right as rain. So, stop your fussin." The elderly woman ran a warm cloth over the scratches and minor burns on Buffy's skin, eliciting a pleasurable moan from the petite blonde. "Now, don't that feel better?" She leaned back to take in her small charge, searching for any serious injuries, and was happy to see that there weren't any. Momma looked up at Beck, who was hovering over Buffy with his heart in his eyes, and gave him a nod, letting him know that his ladylove was alright.

Angel walked in at that moment, his body responding to Buffy's moan. Spike witnessed his sire's predicament and took an evil enjoyment from someone turning the tables on him. He remembered having to watch Angelus with Dru, and even though he still loved Buffy, this small revenge was sweet to watch.

"Robin is hurt pretty bad. Is there somewhere that I can lay him down?" The souled vampire interrupted, hoping to get his body under control, and his mind back on track.

Buffy took in the situation at once. "Put him in Dawn's room."

Angel quickly exited the room, while Momma went for more supplies. Her eyes darkened, taking in Robin's unconscious body. The voodoo priestess caught Buffy's eye before leaving the room, letting her know how serious it was. Gunn walked in with Faith, and Buffy directed him toward her old bedroom although the dark Slayer already showed signs of waking. The girls finally got to the house, surprisingly without any mishaps. They collapsed onto chairs in the living room.

"How are Robin and Faith?" Willow asked, after catching her breath.

"Momma is working on Robin. I think Faith should be okay. She seemed to be waking up before Gunn took her up to my room. I'm going to check on her." Buffy started to get up from the couch, but Beck pushed her right back down. She raised her eyes, confusion written on her face.

"You're staying right where you are. Someone else can check on Faith. You're hurt and exhausted," his voice softened, and his hand caressed her check. "Please, babe. You don't have to do everything. Take care of yourself first, or you're no good to anyone."

Buffy sighed, she realized that she'd fallen back into her old habits, taking care of everyone else. Beck was right, she had to take care of herself. She lay back down on the couch, giving him a soft smile.

Willow watched this, at first amazed, before anger took over. How dare this man boss Buffy around? And, what was wrong with her friend, just lying there like a southern belle while some behemoth told her what to do? The light of battle entered the red headed witch's eyes. The fact that she was about to blast someone else for doing the same thing that she and the other Scoobies had to done to Buffy for the past seven years or so escaped her.

"Buffy knows when she's hurt and needs to rest." Willow gave the man she held responsible for Buffy not returning to them an evil glare.

A dark eyebrow rose into a perfect peak, not a grin or calm stare, accompanying it like usual. Travis, who stood next to Spike, whispered, "Oh shit, I hope the red head isn't your friend. Cause if you can't tell, Beck's pissed. Good thing he sat his gun down."

Spike turned to see if his new friend was teasing him. Seeing the way Travis was backing away from the room told him how serious the situation was. The bleached blonde's head swiveled back around to enjoy the show.

Buffy couldn't believe Willow's nerve. Nothing she said at the mansion sunk in with the other woman that she had once considered her dearest friend. Hazel eyes drank in the effect the words had on the quiet man gently stroking her face. He rose slowly from the couch, the eyebrow pointed skyward in such a perfect peak it only needed an underline to form a triangle. Moving silently for such a large man, Beck stopped mere inches from Willow. He inspected her as if she were a bug under a microscope, which caused the powerful Wicca to fidget.

Willow wasn't used to someone intimidating her. She had gotten used to the potentials, and even the Scoobies, being somewhat in awe of her magic. Straightening her back, Willow glared back at the coal black eyes that seemed to see into her very soul. Her chin jutted out in defiance.

"Willow, right?" Beck asked, in a deceptively soft voice. He reminded those watching of a cobra hypnotizing its prey. "I'm not sure what passes for friendship here in this crazy town, but where I come from when someone you care for, someone you love, is hurt, you try to keep them from hurting themselves more. I don't care that Buffy can bench-press a car. Can't you see that she's exhausted? She not only saved your collective asses, just so you know, she also took out the creepy preacher. If you took the time to look at her, you would see that she needs to rest." By this time, Beck was leaning his large frame over Willow's much smaller one. It looked as if he would engulf her in one large bite.

"I've seen Buffy fight harder and longer than she did tonight," Willow stubbornly replied.

"Because there wasn't anyone else," Beck answered, not looking at Willow, but at the small blonde across the room. Their eyes held each others, excluding everyone else.

Willow broke the spell they were weaving, with an angry outburst. "That isn't true. Buffy has always had us to help her." She crossed her arms over her chest, expecting Buffy to back up her claim.

"How many broken bones, cuts, bruises, burns, stabs, and bites have you had?" Beck bit out ready to throttle the stubborn witch, who wanted to see the world according to her own playbook.

"That's not fair. I'm not a Slayer. I don't have the same strengths that she does." Willow didn't like the way that this conversation was going. All she did was ask Buffy to do what she always did, and here this stranger was raking her over the coals for it.

"You're an idiot. Buffy told me how smart you are, but you're a fool. No wonder you couldn't handle magic." Beck didn't give Willow a chance to defend herself. "No matter how strong you are, you have to rest, recover, and take care of yourself. If you push until you have nothing left, then you break. How long did you and your friends push Buffy, forcing her to be what you decided she should be, not could be, until she fought back, then you threw her away. Let me tell you something, lady, if you ever even think about breathing wrong in her direction, magic or not, Hellmouth, vampire, or demons from hell, won't be enough to keep me from taking you out." Beck walked away from a visibly shaking Willow. Bending down, he gathered Buffy into his arms, whispering to her the whole while that he carried her up the stairs to the room they shared.

Willow moved over to sit on the couch that Buffy had vacated. Her knees gave out just as she reached it. Her hands shook while Beck's words rang in her head. They were lies; they had to be. She wasn't that person that he talked about, she wasn't.

Cordelia had remained uncharacteristically quiet until she heard the bedroom door shut. "Well, wasn't that entertaining?" Her voice held equal measures envy and contempt. "I don't know how Buffy always manages to find men willing to do anything for her. What is it about her?"

The snide remarks and dramatic sigh after her diatribe left her audience shocked and unsure how to answer. Everyone knew the former May Queen felt no love loss for the Slayer, but thought she had put her feelings aside to fight beside Buffy against the First. The Fang Gang had heard about Cordelia's former personality shortcomings and had thought them exaggerated, thinking no one could ever live such a self-involved life. The longer they listened they weren't sure what was going on with their friend, co-worker and seer for the Powers, and whether they had ever known her. She wasn't acting like the woman they knew and respected.

"Could someone please explain this to me?"

"I'm not sure you could grasp it, cheerleader," Spike spoke up from his place by the stairs.

"Oh, please, like some Billy Idol wannabe knows more than a seer for the Powers."

Her nose rose in the air as she looked down it at him. She tossed her hair over her shoulder as if she could displace the air with his scent away from her personal space as well. Spike's scarred eyebrow angled upward in query at her angry posturing. Cordelia allowed her whisky colored eyes to harden into her patented death glare, which she knew had caused demons to tremble. It was like waving red at the angry vampire. Spike accepted the challenge, even if Cordelia didn't understand she had offered him one.

"You're not the first seer I've run across in the past hundred years," he said as his piercing blue eyes glanced down her body then returned to meet her hardened stare, "not impressed."

"Are you comparing me to your crazy ex-girlfriend?"

Cordelia's high-pitched shriek had everyone wincing. She stood ramrod straight with her hands clenched into fists by her side. Her body started to tremble as she worked to contain her anger.

"Wouldn't think of it." Cordelia gave him a regal nod, forgiving him for the comparison. "I'd never insult my dark goddess that way," Spike replied with his trademark smirk.

Willow worked hard to smother the laugh struggling to escape her lips. She had watched the byplay, suddenly reminded of high school. It wouldn't surprise her to find the squabbling pair locked in a broom closet later tonight.

Angel descended the stairs straight into the battle royal, each opponent squared off ready to defend their view. Surprisingly, they turned to him to settle their disagreement.

"Explain to the bleached wonder that I'm important to the Powers, and if he has information, he should share it," Cordelia ordered, expecting a snappy response.

The original souled vampire turned to his grandchilde, a question on his patient face. Spike, being Spike, gave him a droll eye roll. The vampires hid their smiles when they heard Cordy's teeth grind together in frustration.

"What information does he have that you need to know?" Angel innocently asked.

Willow lost it at this point, clutching her sides in laughter, gasping out the answer. "Why…men…want…Buffy?" She cackled like the symbolic witch she hated to see portrayed.

"Would you stop that? Geez, you're as much a spaz as you were in high school," Cordy snapped, irritated that someone had felt beneath her was laughing at her. She turned back to Angel, intent on getting an answer. "Well?"

"Cor, I don't understand. I thought you said the information was something you needed to know."

She growled at her lover, "Angel, would you just order him to tell me what I want to know, or better yet, you explain it? Wait, he thinks I'm too stupid to understand, so use little words."

Cordelia's eyes pinned Angel in place. She didn't plan to move once inch until someone explained the Buffy Summers mystery. Cordelia had never understood why the small blonde had garnered such attention and loyalty from those who knew her. She thought it had to do with her being the Slayer, but Spike had implied something else. After leaving Sunnydale and working with Angel these past few years, she thought she had changed for the better and gotten over the jealousy and resentment she felt toward Buffy. It came back to her seeing the other woman once again happily in love while her own love life lay in shambles.

Explaining why he had fallen in love with Buffy and would always love her to Cordelia scared Angel more than the coming apocalypse. There were no words that could do justice to the way he had felt the first time he saw Buffy. Closing his eyes, Angel remembered their first kiss, and could still hear her soft voice telling him she loved him. His eyes snapped open when he heard Cordy yelling at him.

"Snap out of it, Brood Boy."

Her toe was tapping so fast it was a wonder she didn't tap straight through the floor. Spike had seen enough. He didn't know what his sire saw in the bossy cheerleader, but he wasn't about to stand around and let them dissect the Slayer.

Before either vampire could speak up, Travis took the floor. "I'll answer your question, Screechadelia." He gave her his most mischievous smile.

"It's Cordelia, you moron. What would you know? You've only known Buffy for a few months."

Travis clutched his chest like her words wounded him, before straightening up and walking over to look the seer straight in the eye. They were the same height, and he made the indomitable Cordelia Chase do something few people could - blink. Travis' startling clear, blue eyes, usually so full of laughter, filled with a serious light she couldn't break away from.

"Buffy draws people to her because they know she'll keep them safe. But, even more than that, she cares about them. She cares whether their cat's sick; they fought with their brother, or just had a bad day. See Screechy, Buffy doesn't realize it isn't because she's the Slayer men want her, it's in spite of it. That's why you'll never be her and should stop trying. If you can't get your man on your own, then he ain't yours. What's your problem anyway? You boss people around and blame Buffy when things don't turn out the way you want? Don't know much about your PTBs and visions, sounds more like punishment than any kinda reward to me. I'm tired, gonna catch some sleep while ya'll hash this out."

Travis gave them a jaunty salute and walked away, leaving them in stunned silence.

Willow had no desire to listen to Cordelia's continued ranting. She wandered down the hall toward the den, intent on laying down, when she saw Momma's room. The scent drew her like a magnet. She stepped inside and the power humming in the room prickled across her skin. This magic was different, pure, grounded in the Earth, without any taint of darkness, like it was created from the first drop of morning dew or Spring's first blossom. Walking around the room, her hands softly touched each article until a glimpse of red caught her eye. Willow brushed aside several herb packets to uncover the red, leather bound book that lay underneath.

She didn't recognize the symbols embossed on its cover. As she lifted it for closer inspection, the power contained inside thrummed beneath her fingers. Willow realized it was a Grimoire, a spell book and an old one at that. It had detailed spells written in an intricate language she couldn't understand. It looked like French, Spanish, English and some unknown language mixed in no recognizable pattern.

Quickly thumbing through the book, looking for anything she could understand, her heart jumped in excitement when she found one on the last page with a word she recognized - protection. The symbols translated into - chalk, sulfur, blood and hair, the Sorcery of the Supreme Protection. Willow quickly read the spell and chanted words to ensure she remembered it before closing and replacing the book back the way she had found it. She rationalized that it was a simple spell, its placement in the back meant it was an old spell and therefore stable. Willow knew everyone respected Momma's magic, especially Buffy and Beck. She squared her shoulders, determined to show Beck he was wrong about her. She planned to study the spell and use it to help protect Buffy from the First.

"What ya doing in my room, little witch?" a harsh, accusing voice came from the doorway.

Willow jumped guiltily; glad she had put the book away when she had. She hated to think what the old woman would have done if she had caught her red handed. She knew she needed some feasible reason for being in Momma's room. Willow gave the old woman an innocent smile as she stepped away from the dresser.

"While I was walking by, the wonderful smell drew me inside. I'll admit I tried to pinpoint which herb or combination created that heavenly aroma. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have been snooping."

Momma didn't fool easily. Ever since this little witch and the seer had entered the house, something wasn't right. While she was busy trying to ease Robin's passing, her old bones told her evil had seeped into the house and she wasn't sure whether one or both hadn't held the door open for it. She had watched Willow for several moments before speaking. She hadn't seen her actually doing anything at her dresser, but her gut and just plain living as long as she had told her better. Momma knew innocent eyes and sweet smiles couldn't hide the lies tripping from the little witch's lips. She was a smart one though, hiding the truth among the lies. This one needed watching.

"The magics in this room aren't for you."

"Why not? I've used magic since I was sixteen. Didn't Buffy tell you?" Willow exclaimed, hurt and affronted feelings clear in her voice. She couldn't another of Buffy's new friends doubted her magical abilities.

Momma snorted, then said in the voice that all New Orleans knew not to dispute, "She told me 'bout you. Left lots out, but Momma has her ways of knowing. You know nothing 'bout magic, 'cept how to fling it out and hope it sticks. That ain't the way and never has been. You got no respect for the craft or the way. Now, get out of my room and don't come near my things again, or Momma will show you just how much you don't know. Gets." She shooed Willow out like a stray cat.

The young Wicca was equal parts scared and angry. She couldn't believe Buffy's friend would speak to her that way. Willow knew her reputation rivaled Buffy's in the supernatural community, which made her feel equal, if not superior to Buffy. No higher power gave her magic, she went and got it on her own. Now, this old woman was telling her she didn't know anything and would curse her if she didn't leave her room. A smug grin spread across Willow's face as she left the room. She'd show Momma and Beck, just wait, she'd use Momma's own spell to help Buffy. That would show the old biddy and the know it all man.

Momma walked around her room, checking over her things. She came to her dresser where she brushed aside the herb packets to uncover Marie's Grimoire. She took the ancient book back with her too the bed. Lying down beside the red journal, Momma turned slowly turned the pages. She remembered learning each spell's importance and to respect the magic hidden within the words. Momma reached the last spell and closed the book, sighing thankfully to find it intact. She hoped even Willow knew the most powerful spells could appear simple. Her great-grandmother kept them at the back, warning her family only to use them as a last resort. Magic should take work; that was why even the simplest spell took numerous steps. Marie Laveaux wanted to ensure her descendants didn't abuse her legacy.

The young witch worried Momma. She hadn't learned magic properly and the dark magics needed purging. Why hadn't someone stripped them from her? She had listened to the explanations Buffy's watcherman gave about stripping the power would kill the witch. Momma shook her head at the nonsense people would believe these days. If the little witch absorbed the dark magic through magic, then it could come out the same way. It sounded rather fishy to her; more like someone thought they could control the witch and her powers. Foolishness, that's what it was foolishness, can't control the darkness, not that kind. Either the darkness ate you whole or you stamped it out with the light.

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Get Bent ~ 8