FIC: Finding the Slayer (9a/?) B/W PG

Author: Ivy Gort

Email: ivygort@xxxxxxxxxxx

Spoilers: Placed in Season Two, plot points from Season Seven

Rating: PG

Pairing: Buffy and Willow

Previous Parts: http://www.fanfiction.net/~ivygort

Summary: Buffy is injured by Spike and starts have strange dreams.

Disclimer: I don't own these character.

Feedback: Please!

Ann Marie is the Great BETA Goddess.

Special Thanks to BHV for prereading for me. BHV and Ann Marie have done and do so much work to help my writing it is unbelievable!

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Finding the Slayer Part Nine

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Thirst pulled the Slayer up from dreams of frozen trees and dancing Witches with long, flowing titian hair, into the light of a guttering candle. Instinctively, her extra sense expanded outwards, trying to find danger. When it found none, it slowly retreated, but not without first lightly touching the unguarded emotions of the woman sitting in the chair next to her. Belle let Hope?s calmness wash over her, soothing her in a way that eased some of the loneliness of her Calling. The Slayer withdrew, reluctantly, and only because she thought of herself as an intruder. Arthur had lectured many times that it was impolite to use her extra senses for anything other than finding evil.

And while Belle thought Hope was many things, talented nurse, a seer, and strikingly beautiful, evil was not one of them.

The pain in Belle?s back and shoulder was down to a dull throb, not the blazing fire it had been. So she was able to shift slightly to search for water on the nightstand, as she turned she was stunned by the sight of Hope asleep. The flickering light of the candle, shinning off her hair, changed the color from the nearly bright red the Slayer remembered from . . . this afternoon . . . to a deep rich burgundy. The innocence of the woman?s face stole Belle?s breath. Never, never, had she felt this way about anyone. The instant recognition, the trust, right there from the first moment she looked into Hope's eyes. As a Southerner the war robbed her of her ability to trust in strangers, being the Slayer robbed her of the trust in her oldest friends, Hope gave it back to her.

Belle admonished herself at the bold behavior of staring at the sleeping woman. The Slayer admitted that her earlier memory of the ?Hope might have been a little fuzzy. Some of her impressions were clouded with pain and fear. Still, she remembered the brilliant emerald eyes that reminded her so much of her Watcher?s. Now, this late at night, her intelligence and caring was shuttered away by sleep.

Belle was so thirsty, her throat so dry that every breath was becoming painful. She shifted onto to her side so that she could push up with her good arm. However, when she got into a sitting position, she became so dizzy that she toppled over, jarring her injures. The fire shot through her causing her to gasp. Then she had to hold onto the side of the bed as her vision dimmed and the room sickeningly rocked back and forth. The vague thought of an earthquake passed through her hazy mind only to be dismissed when she noticed the furniture didn?t move.

?Miss Mills?? The Slayer heard Hope say her name and she tired to rise, but couldn?t. Her weakened body wouldn?t let her. Her heavy limbs refused her simplest commands.

?Here let me help you,? Hope gently turned the Slayer so that she lay on her back, her head supported by the soft pillow. ?Are you in much pain?? she asked, sitting on the bed beside the Slayer.

?No, not much,? the Slayer croaked out, it hurt her dry throat to talk.

?Thank god, and I think your fever has broken too.? Hope's gentle
hands felt Belle?s forehead and face, sending fire coursing through
her body. A fire that had nothing to do with her injuries. A fire
that Belle thought she had forgotten what it was like to feel.

Belle tried to swallow but was too parched.

?Here?s some water,? Hope told her, reaching for a glass that was placed on the floor next to the bed. ?Take only a few little sips, just enough to wet your throat.? The titian haired beauty supported the Slayer's head and shoulders while she drank the cool water. Water had never tasted so good and it was hard to only drink a few sips.

Hope eased her head back down to the pillow and the Slayer?s mind turned to the tactical situation. ?How long have I been out?? she asked, looking out the window at the darkness.

Hope put the glass of water on the floor and then took the Slayer?s hand. ?You arrived this afternoon.?

Relief washed through Belle that she had only been unconscious for a matter of hours. As weak as she felt she had wondered if she had drifted in delirium for days. Then she was jolted by the fact that Arthur wasn?t by her bed.

?Arthur?? she asked, her panic building. She rose up off her pillow to search the room for his steady presence, sending out her Slayer sense to find him. Only now that Hope was awake and aware it was nearly impossible for the Slayer to feel anything other than her.

?Shuss, lay back or you will reopen the slashes on your back.? Hope pushed her back into the bed.

?No, he would be here!? Belle cried, struggling harder to rise up. ?Did the wolves attack after all your assurances?? She slapped Hope?s hand away, adrenaline giving her the strength to sit up on the edge of the bed.

Hope stood up, faced the Slayer, and placed a hand on each of her shoulders, her _expression_ serene. ?He?s resting at John?s house. He . . .? the woman paused, looking away towards the door, then back, capturing and holding Belle?s gaze. ?He . . . was disruptive. He didn?t want us to help you.?

Belle stared into the woman?s eyes, not quite able to understand why Arthur would have such a reaction to God sent help. ?I need to see him, I need to go to him so he knows that I am fine, that (?) you are good,? she told the woman holding her.

Hope nodded, then she dropped her hands and backed away a step.

Belle gathered her strength and stood, the world tilted, and a red haze filled her vision. She was vaguely aware of strong arms catching her, and of being settled back onto the bed. She tried to shake away the fuzziness that was blocking her thoughts but couldn?t.

?Drink Belle, this will help,? a calm voice told her and a cup touched her lips. When she hesitated the Slayer felt a smothering calmness wash over her, stifling her protests. She was still so thirsty that the vile concoction, she was sure it was made out of mud, was welcome.

The pain retreated somewhat and her vision cleared. ?Arthur wouldn?t leave me to the wolves, he would only be happy that you are helping us,? Belle told the woman that was again sitting on the bed beside her. Hope looked away toward the door that lead outside. The Slayer felt the woman struggling with some internal question.

Belle decided to let Hope work it out, patience wasn?t one of the virtues that she had been able to learn, but for some reason she did trust Hope. It was one the many things running through her mind. Why did the Morgan bring them here? How does Hope know so much about her Calling? And where exactly were they? They had no reports of a settlement this size around the Rock Creek Station or Beatrice, Nebraska.

After what seemed like minutes, Hope looked back at her and the Slayer stilled her thoughts. The woman appeared to be struggling with how much to tell her. Belle could tell by the way Hope chewed on her bottom lip. The nervous habit was strikingly familiar to the Slayer, though she couldn?t remember where she had seen it before.

?I promise you that both you and your Watcher are safe here,? Hope paused, and again she chewed on her lip. ?I know you have questions . . . so do we. Still, the important thing is for you to rest and recover. When you are healed I will tell you everything about my dreams.? Hope stood up and the Slayer instinctively knew that none of her questions would be answered tonight.

A yawn caught Belle, and she noticed that most of the pain was gone. Whether it was because of the potion that Hope gave her or her healing powers she didn?t know. All she did know was that she was clean and in a soft, comfortable bed for the first time in months.

She followed Hope with her eyes as the nurse walked over to a table in the corner of the room and lit another candle to replace the guttering one.

?You may go to your bed; I will not be needing your help for the rest of the night,? Belle offered to the woman. The woman turned and gave her a sad smile.

?I?ve lost too many wounded to infections after I thought them on the way to recovery . . .?Hope backed away out of the candle?s light for just a moment. ?I won?t be losing you, too.? She came back into the light and then settled in the chair by the Slayer?s bed with a thick tome. She held up the spine for Belle to read it. The Complete Works of Shakespeare. ?Would you like for me to read you something while you try to rest??

Belle?s breath caught and she felt tears flood her eyes. The kindness this strange woman had shown her nearly did the Slayer in . . . there was no way that the woman on this dusty prairie could know that her mother would read Sir William to her and her sisters, during the dark hours of winter while their menfolk were away fighting the doomed war.

?Yes, please, Midsummer?s Night Dream if you don?t mind?? Belle begged. Oh, how she missed home, missed the river, her friends, her life. As Hope?s voice started the play Belle felt herself beginning to drift, pain free and safe . . . .

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TBC Nine b