Time Travel pt. 6

Tile: Time-Travel
Author: Ivy Gort Ivygort@hotmail.com
Part 6/?
The first five parts are archived: https://www.angelfire.com/ca4/faithzangel/index.html
Rating: PG B/F
Spoilers: Enemies
Note: Faith loves Buffy. The entire story is contrived. In no way am I trying to be historically correct. If I insult anyone I am very, very sorry and I wasn’t trying too.
Note Two: I am not using the crow the way the TV show uses it. I am following the way D. Bouvier use it in her Ritual poem "Crow."
Feedback: Please!!! Oh, please, because I am a beginner and need help and encouragement.
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy, Faith, Willow or the Mayor. Joss owns the world, though Fox thinks it does!
This part is for Faithzangel and Charles Parise who have kept me going. Thank You.

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Part 6

Willow landed face down in the icy, snowy slush. The deafening thunder echoing in her ears. She glanced back over her shoulder in time to see one of the vamps from the warehouse throw a pack through the rip Crowley’s magic had created in time. After the pack dropped into Willow’s lap the ancient Shaman quickly walked up to the tear and pulled it together as if one would pull two curtains together. Willow was just able to see the Shaman collapse into the waiting arms of the beautiful vampire as the hole knitted itself together. The last of the light from the tear disappeared and Willow was left alone in the cold snowy rain.

Within seconds Willow was soaked to the skin, her light jacket clinging to her body as the wind pounded her relentlessly. Snow covered the ground so the world around her was an eerily white, she didn't know where in the world she was—maybe the North Pole—she thought. She slowly pushed up and got to her feet, leaning against the wind, she turned around trying to figure out which way to go. The young Witch began to violently shiver, she had been in this place, and wherever this place was, for less than three minutes and she was already so cold her bones were aching. She quickly thought about asking the spirit of fire to warm her, but at the moment she didn't want to use magic.

She turned around again, hoping that she would gain some insight as to the direction that she needed to go to find Faith. As she turned she thought she saw two glowing yellow lights off in the distance, then the yellow lights came closer—and resolved themselves into a face of a wolf. "Oh goddess!" the Witch said closing her eyes, not wanting to see the wolf attack--waiting for the wolf to eat her. She kept her eyes closed until she felt a warm comforting hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes to find Crowley's beautiful vampire staring down at her.

"Oh, you came, too?" Willow babbled relieved. "But didn't I see you walking away as the tear or whatever closed?" The vampire answered her in some unutterable language she couldn't follow.

She shook her head; "I don't understand you." She said frustrated. Why in the world was he talking to her in some strange language he knew she didn't understand? With a confused look he turned towards a sleep hillside and pointed, once again saying something in his strange language.

'I don't understand you!" Willow shouted, in an unconscious attempt at replacing volume with knowledge. Thinking maybe if she said the words loud enough he could gleam some meaning from them. He pointed up the hill again, speaking urgently; Willow could see his breath in the cold air, before the wind snatched it away. She made out the outline of a wolf head on his fur coat and thought why did a vampire need to keep warm? Then realization dawned on her; he wasn't a vampire, at least yet.

Apparently frustrated with her lack of comprehension the beautiful vampire -- Indian, non-vampire or at least not a vampire at this point in time -- whenever she was at the moment. Took Willow's hand and tugged in the direction that he was pointing in, up the steep hill. As they made their way up the hill Willow kept falling, her tennis shoes unable to find purchase on the muddy hillside. For every step she took it seemed like she slid down three, finally causing the future vampire to stop and pick her up.

They came to a cave, the mouth of which was covered with some type of animal skin that the Indian swept aside with his shoulder. The young Witch was temporarily blinded by the brightness of all the campfires as the cave opened up into a huge cavern. She saw at least 10 to 15 campfires, and it seemed that by each fire there was a family. By family, she meant Family, she noticed several generations at each of the fires, she thought rather vaguely there must have been about a hundred people seeking shelter here. He continued to carry her through the throngs of other Indians and between the tent like structures, also made of animal hides, separating the living units. And she thought this must be where his tribe lives. At last towards the back of a cavern he stopped and gently put her on her feet next to a fire. A little girl no older than 5 raced up to him and latched onto his leg speaking the language the Willow could not understand but at the same time she didn't need to understand it to know that this was his daughter. The beautiful, but morose, face of the future vampire lit up with the shining light that only fatherhood could bring. Vividly reminding her of the way Giles' looked at Buffy when he thought his slayer couldn't see him. Following the little girl quickly, and speaking in a scolding voice, a young woman came up from another fire to grab the girl by her hand. Her father spoke gently to his daughter and then let the older girl drag her away.

The Indian then took Willow's pack off her shoulder and picked up a few things from the dishes around his fire and pointed for Willow to follow him to the back of the cave. It led to yet another passageway covered by the same kind of indescribable animal hide that covered the front entrance. Only at this opening, embedded in the stone around the passageway, were various animal skulls. Willow recognized a bear, some kind of bird, and the ever-present wolf. He stopped at the entrance and lifted the skin away, and motioned for her to enter. Once inside she saw torches lining the walls the flickering light causing the animal figures painted under them to look as if they were alive. The Indian walked up behind her, lightly placing both his hands on each of her shoulders guiding her to the back of the cave where several animal furs were laid in a circle around a fire pit. Increased pressure on her shoulders indicated to Willow that she should sit down, which she did. The Indian then started the fire throwing several of the herbs he had picked up earlier into it.

Willow could recognize some of the herbs in the smoke, but some were beyond the Witch's knowledge. As the fire grew higher it started to get warmer in the cozy little cave, and Willow's clothes started to dry. After the events of the night, being warm, dry, and not under the immediate threat of death Willow felt herself beginning to relax. The animal figures on the wall began to slowly dance around her, as she entered into a hazy trance -- she felt as if she was about to fall asleep. She heard chanting in the distance and looked up to see the beautiful Indian still in his Wolf skin coat dancing and singing in his language. But somehow the little Witch was beginning to understand what he was saying. He was singing to the wolf, asking the Wolf to guide him in his dealings with Willow. Willow felt herself began to sway with his hypnotic singing, and once again she looked towards the animals that were dancing on wall and a crow suddenly flew out of the wall and swooped towards her.

-- -- -- -- -- --

Willow was in a wonderful place; she was warm, comfortable, and safe. If the nagging person shaking her awake would just leave her alone her life would be wonderful. But they wouldn't stop. She had the feeling that she should be remembering something, something important, and if she could just drift back to sleep she would have the answer.

"Ah, come on," she complained. " Just five more minutes."

"No little tree you must awaken now," she heard the deep baritone say. "You have been asleep half the night, already."

The night's events flooded back into Willow's mind, a she sat straight up expecting the Crow to be plucking out her eyes.

" Why did you call me little tree." Willow said wiping the sleep out of her eyes. "Hey, I can understand you, why can I understand you." The Witch was very confused, before she went to sleep his language was unintelligible now she could understand him?

"It is an old trick," the Indian told her. "Only Shamans have been able to use it with other magical entities." He stood up and walked over to the other side of the fire. Willow looked around and noticed that the animals on the walls had stopped moving. She looked over the fire at the Shaman -- still slightly confused and disoriented. He seemed to realize her disorientation as he busied himself by making the fire larger.

After a few minutes the Shaman went over to a table and poured some liquid into a cup, he brought to over Willow. "Drink this it will help with the after affects of the spell."

"So what's the deal, you cast the spell and people can understand each other?" Willow asked then took a sip of the strange tasting liquid and immediately felt better, more together, her brain finally deciding to start working.

"Yes and no," the Shaman answered. "There are still things from your world that do not translate into understandable things in mine. For that I will see images, pictures if you will, of what you are thinking. Do they not have the same type of spell were you're from?"

Willow remembered reading something about how ancient peoples were able to communicate with each other despite language differences, but she never quite realized the implications. She guessed this was the best way in which to meet new tribes, the Shamans of both tribes coming together casting the spell then there could be no misunderstandings. She shook her head after all that happened to her that night this was just too much.

"Yeah, we have spells where I come from that translates all the languages for us, only we call them computers." She said jokingly, then realized the Shaman was very confused.

"I get an image of a little box. How can that cast spell?" He asked.

"Never mind," Willow answered. She sat up straighter, her mind was clearing and her body seemed to be refreshed. She looked down at her empty cup, " what was that stuff?" When he answered it was her turn to be confused because she got an image of him chanting with a bird sitting next to a bowl? She blinked image away. He walked over to her took cup then placed back on the table.

"Why did you come to my land?" the Shaman asked turning around the face her. "Do you know about the two other magical beings that came before you?"

"Two other beings?" Willow repeated. The proverbial light going on above her head as she realized the Shaman was referring to Faith and Buffy. She got up onto her knees excited, " do you know where they are, is Buffy badly hurt?"

"Yes, I know where they are but before I take you to them I must understand why you created such an intense magical storm. If you are a dark sorcerer than those two beings could supply you with enough power to destroy my tribe." He said walking back around the fire and facing her.

"I didn't create the storm; I was sent back by a Shaman to stop a terrible wrong. One of those magical beings, as you call them, is my best friend and I think that she is in trouble, and if I don't help her she could die." Willow ended her babble and stayed kneeling; instinctively knowing if she stood up at that moment the Shaman would take it as a threat.

"They are both made of the golden light of the sun, the goodness within them shines brightly. But one is under a curse, and the other one has some type of poison cursing through her body." With his words Willow got the image of Buffy and Faith. Faith looked as if she had black tentacles spread throughout her body from her heart. Willow instantly recognized it as the type of spell that was cast over a long period of time. At first the person didn't realize they are under someone else's control because the spell used the victim's greatest desire against them. The irony of it was that just a simple talisman, just like the one Willow gave Buffy the night before Faith killed Allen, would totally negate all aspects of the spell. With shocking clarity Crowley's words of blame came slamming back into Willow's mind, Willow had made protection talismans for each member of the scooby gang, including Faith. But because she had been so jealous of the time Buffy spent with the other slayer she never gave it to her.

"You must take me to them right now!" The young Witch demanded. The Shaman was shaking his head no.

"Why, do you come here with all these magical instruments," he said pointing at her pack. "By magical means you entered into my world disrupting the natural flows. If I hadn't felt the energy building than some of my people would have been caught in the storm and killed. I am sure that some of the white's were killed."

"I'm sorry, but I did not cause the storm. Believe me when I say that if I do not reach my friend in time it will be disastrous for all of us. I made a mistake and I must correct it." Willow stood tears nearly welling up in her eyes -- only through the force of will did she keep them from spilling over. Then what the Shamans said caught up with her. "What magical instruments?"

At her words the Shaman picked up her packed turning it upside-down dumping everything on the soft furs at her feet. Willow instantly recognize the orb she used to restore Angel's soul. She also recognized her Book of Shadows, or at least, she thought it was her Book of Shadows. It had the same cover as her book, except that she just begun it less than a year ago and this book was filled. She reached down and picked it up -- it was just a simple spiral notebook that she bought for 75 cents at a yard sale. Yesterday she had only four spells in it. She opened it and read the ancient yellowed computer printout, the soul restoration spell. The very first spell she ever cast, the spell that nearly destroyed her best friend. The original printout had notes written all over it, notes in her handwriting but she had never made them. She thumbed through the rest of a book finding that after her first four original spells everything was handwritten on various kinds of paper. Halfway through, a page was marked, and it was labeled 'Permanent Soul Restoration.' So Crowley cheated, she was stacking the deck in Willow's favor because the date of the spell was March 3rd 1938. Nearly forty years in the future from this time, so Crowley needed Willow to succeed so much she broke rules or did she? Everything was just too confusing to the Witch, so Willow reverted back to the thing that had, in the past, always steered her true—her heart—all that mattered was that her best friend needed help.

Willow looked up at the Shaman and saw understanding in his dark eyes. "I will take you to them now. Maybe they can help us purge the new demons before you take them back to their rightful land." The little Witch didn't know if the Shaman had been reading her mind or just following the expressions on her face—either way it didn't matter. He gathered up the things he had dumped on the furs and put them back into her pack for her. But, as he handed it to her—screaming followed by the anger growl of vampires--erupted in the outer chambers. Willow did a quick calculation and came up with what had to be overwhelming numbers of vampires attacking a tribe this large.

The Shaman heard the screams too, and Willow could clearly see that he knew there was nothing he could do to stop the slaughter of his friends and family. But, then his eyes hardened; the Witch had no time to react to the blow before his closed fist slammed into her temple. The world went black for only a few seconds; Willow wanted to protest that she wasn't the reason the vampires were attacking, only her mind couldn't make her mouth work. She saw the crow fly out of the wall again, and land next to her—in her fogged mind it appeared as if the Shaman and the crow were talking. The crow turned its head so the his eyes met and Willow's and she felt a sudden disconnection with the world around her, as if the ground had dropped out from under her. She could see the Shaman covering up her prone body with the furs and skins of the ritual place, hiding her from view. She saw him take one last look at the crow and then with a resigned sigh he turned and walked toward the exit to the cave pulling the wolf head of his coat over his, wearing it as if it were a hat. The last thing she saw as the crow reclaimed her attention was a huge gray wolf sliding out of the cave.