TITLE: Death Brings Clarity
AUTHOR: JK Philips
RATING: PG-13 (mild swearing)
SUMMARY: From “Spiral” to “The Gift” followed by my own attempt to put things right. Giles has a moment of clarity, but it’s too late. How he deals with Buffy’s death and how she comes back to him.
SPOILERS: Everything up to “The Gift”
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.
EMAIL:
. Would love feedback. This is my first fanfic ever. :)MY WEBSITE: www.jkphilips.com
--------------------------------------------------- Part 4: Another Slayer, Another Watcher Willow hit the ground, stunned for a moment. The demon lunged for her, raking its nine-inch nails across her back as she rolled away. Where were Xander and Giles? She scrambled to her feet and took off running, the beast barely a breath behind her. She dodged tombstones and ducked under trees. She lacked a slayer’s speed and strength, but she had magic, if only she could catch her breath long enough to use it. The demon tackled her, and she hadn’t time to brace her hands against the fall before her chin knocked into the hard earth. She tasted blood, the world spun, and the demon flipped her on her back. Willow thrust one hand towards its scaly face, uttering the word, “Thicken.” She backpedaled out from under the creature as it roared against the invisible barrier. Her wounds stung, her head spinning as she stumbled away from the demon. How to kill it? She realized they had all grown careless after finding nothing but vampires on the last two weeks’ patrols. Research had lagged. More important things to do. Wedding plans for Anya and Xander. Spending time with Tara. Helping Giles take care of Dawn. And trying every second not to think about how much she missed Buffy. She hadn’t the slightest idea how to kill this monster. Her holy water and crosses would not be doing the trick. The demon lumbered free of her barrier, aiming straight for her. “Incendere!” She cried, and fire circled the beast. He kept coming, right through the flames. Looked like fire wasn’t the ticket either. Where were Xander and Giles? Giles at least had a sword and knew how to use it. She opened her mouth to weave another spell, but the demon was faster, its hand snaking out to snatch her by the throat and cut off her air. It sneered, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth and breath that made Willow gag. “Witch,” it spat as Willow felt her feet lift from the ground. Her vision was growing dark. She struggled to pry herself from its grip. This is it, she thought. Buffy, here I come. She hit the ground, sucking in lungfuls of air, massaging her bruised throat. Her vision cleared. She saw the demon she had been fighting, now paired off with a girl, maybe 15 or 16, and the demon appeared to be losing. The girl dodged its every advance, her blond braid whipping into her face as she spun-kicked the demon straight in the chest. It stumbled back, giving the girl time to draw a sword from the scabbard slung across her back. One stroke parted the demon’s head from its body. It lay dead, and the girl wiped the blade of her sword across the grass before replacing it behind her back. Willow pulled herself onto wobbly feet, slightly weak and woozy. “That was… wow… you were great. Um, who are you?” “I am Nicole, the Slayer.” The redhead’s eyes went round. “Oh, oh… You must be the one… I mean when Buffy…” “Willow!” Giles was calling for her. She turned to see him jogging up behind her from the other side of the cemetery, his sword unsheathed and blooded. Xander followed ten steps behind, limping and holding his right arm. “Hey, Giles,” she called back. “I’m okay. This is Nicole. She saved me. She’s the um… the new… the new Slayer.” He faltered ten feet from them, then caught his balance and picked up his pace, one hand urgently searching his pockets as he crossed the distance to her. “Come here, Willow. Now.” His voice was cold steel. He never used that tone with her, or at least he hadn’t since high school. Willow pivoted to look again at the slayer. Nicole smiled, hands on her hips, head tipped to one side. “Look, Watcher knows who I am. It’s much more fun this way.” Giles reached them, shoving Willow behind him with his free hand as the other brandished the sword in front of him. “Council reports have you dead in Liverpool.” “Yes, well, sometimes Slayers come back.” She murmured something in French, then dashed out of the graveyard and was gone. “Giles, you know her?” Willow asked. “I know of her.” “What did she mean: sometimes Slayers…” “Not now!” His eyes were scanning the rest of the cemetery. “We’ll talk about this back at the magic shop. Xander, are you ok?” The young man had joined them, still limping and pressing a nasty gash on his right arm. “I’ll be fine. The ankle’s just twisted. And the arm’s stopped bleeding. I don’t think it’ll need stitches. Just some pressure and tape it up.” Giles nodded, still not looking at either one of them, still searching their surroundings. “Let’s get back to the shop. We’ll pick up Anya and Tara on the way. I think this is going to require some research, the sooner the better.” Willow didn’t argue, just slid her arm around Xander and helped him to the car. Anya and Tara were at Buffy’s house, watching Dawn until the group got back from patrol, a fact that meant they only needed to stop once on the way to the Magic Box. Halfway there, Xander leaned in close to Willow, whispering, “This must be serious. Giles hasn’t said anything about me getting blood in his car.” Giles pulled in the driveway, left the car running, and told the two friends to wait for him. Ten minutes later he returned, followed by Anya and Tara, all three still in mid-conversation. “I’m sorry, Mr. Giles,” Tara was saying, “We really didn’t mean to keep Dawn up so late on a school night.” “Yes,” Anya echoed, as she climbed in the back seat next to Xander. “Dawn agreed to go to bed the minute you pulled in the driveway and pretend to be asleep. If you had come home at the normal time, we would have expected you, and you would have never known she was still awake.” “How thoughtless of me,” Giles muttered. Tara blushed and ducked her head. “Is Dawn coming?” Willow asked. “No,” Giles answered as he backed out of the drive. “It’s 12 o’clock on a school night. I sent her to bed with strict instructions not to invite anyone in and to call at the shop if there’s any problem. And if I’m not mistaken, Spike is loitering across the street. She should be fine for a few hours.” “Hey!” Anya pulled Xander’s hand from his arm. “You’re injured.” Xander brushed her off, and put pressure back on his wound. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine.” “But you’re bleeding. We should take you to a doctor before your arm becomes infected and falls off.” “Really, An, I’m fine. We’ll disinfect it and bandage it at the shop.” Anya scowled at him, settling back with her head against his shoulder. Within minutes, they had pulled in front of the magic shop and were soon gathered around the large conference table. Willow fetched the first aid kit and tended Xander’s arm while waiting for Giles to gather the necessary books from the upstairs loft. After she finished, Xander took care of the cuts across her back. The group was silent as Giles dropped the stack of books on the table. He sighed and began. “Nicole Leblanc was a Slayer and the daughter of a Countess in France. In her time, prospective slayers were given to their watchers as children. Marcus Roderick Somerton was her Watcher and raised her from the age of three. When she became the active Slayer, he took her to Paris. She died in 1807 at the age of fifteen, barely six months after being Called.” Xander raised his good hand. “And this little history lesson is a big emergency because…?” Willow jumped up. “Oh! That was her! Xander, that girl in the cemetery just before you caught up to us. She said she was Nicole, the Slayer. That was her, wasn’t it, Giles?” “I’m afraid so.” He opened the book on the top of the stack and turned the page towards Willow. He pointed at an old lithograph drawing, and she recognized the girl dressed in period garments. Anya leaned over to get a good look, too. “So if she died almost two hundred years ago, how did you see her on patrol tonight?” Giles closed the book and replaced it on the stack. “She’s a vampire. She was turned. By her Watcher.” “So her watcher’s a vampire too,” Xander deduced. They were silent for a moment before Tara summarized, “So there’s like a super-powerful Slayer out there with added vampire strength. And she has her own vamp-Giles with like all his knowledge plus two hundred years.” “Yeah,” Xander confirmed. “Literal vampire slayer. The fun just keeps on leaving.” “Wait a sec,” Willow chimed in. “She saved me from that demon. She killed it. Why would a vampire do that?” Giles began polishing his glasses, and sighed. “That’s their hunting pattern. I should have recognized it sooner. Vampire population rises. Demons disappear. I just thought, well, we’ve focused so much of our patrols on eliminating the demons that crossed over after the dimensional rift opened. I just thought we were being effective. And without a Slayer, it would be only natural for the vampires to multiply and become more arrogant. I’m such a fool. I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier.” Willow patted him on the hand. “It’s okay, Giles. Anyone would have come to those same conclusions.” Tara frowned. “So they hunt demons?” Giles replaced his glasses and continued. “A slayer’s drive to hunt doesn’t disappear after she’s turned. She needs to do more than feed, she needs to fight, and humans would be no challenge. It has the added benefit of eliminating competition for their food supply. “Our last records of them are from England in 1928. They wiped out the demon population in the small city of Childwall, just outside Liverpool. They turned enough of the population to form a small army. It seems Marcus Somerton intended to destroy the Watcher’s Council, which at that point had a branch office in Liverpool.” Xander whistled. “Gotta love a vamp with a plan.” “What happened?” Anya asked. “They burned the Council offices to the ground. Over fifty watchers died fighting them. The ones that survived reported that Nicole and Marcus were dust. The reports were generally believed when they never came after the main headquarters in London.” “Except now they’re in Sunnydale,” Willow finished. “Except now they’re in Sunnydale,” Giles confirmed. “We need to find out everything we can about them if we’re going to fare better than the people of Childwall.” He handed out books to everyone, and the next couple hours passed in silence as the group reverted to research mode. The night was late, and everyone was tired, but they needed some answers. Coffee was made, donuts were fetched, and sore muscles were stretched as the stack of books in the center table slowly diminished. “This is weird,” Willow said at about 2:30 in the morning. “What did you find?” Giles asked as he leaned over her shoulder. “These dates don’t seem right. All the books say she was turned by her watcher, right? In 1807? But I have a watcher’s diary from 1812, another watcher who talks about Marcus Somerton. And he’s still alive.” Xander leaned over Willow’s other shoulder. “I thought only vamps could make other vamps.” “As far as we know that’s true,” Giles confirmed. Willow shook her head. “No, this watcher doesn’t mention anything about Nicole becoming a vampire. He just talks about how upset Marcus is at losing his slayer. See: ‘I am deeply concerned for my friend’s sanity. It has been almost five years, and Marcus speaks of nothing but Nicole. My servants must fetch him home from the local pub nearly every evening. I imagine the patrons think he is bound for the asylum to hear him speak of demons and vampires. The Watcher’s Council would surely dismiss him were his family not so prominent among their ranks. This afternoon I came upon him in my garden holding a kitchen knife’ -see, Giles, outside and daylight equals not vampire- ‘holding a kitchen knife, of which I quickly divested him. He gave no explanation, save that Nicole needed him to be with her.’ “Okay, so he’s still alive in 1812, five years after Nicole dies. How does he make her a vampire?” “Yeah,” Xander added, “Isn’t there a time limit for making vampires?” Giles slipped his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he thought. “Everything we know about vampires tells us that they must be near death when they drink from their Sire, but they must still be alive. It’s at the moment of death that the soul leaves the body and the demon takes over. It won’t work on the dead, and certainly not someone who’s been dead for over five years. If it did, vampires would be digging people up to turn them. And that’s never happened as far as we know.” “Well, somehow he found a loophole,” Anya pointed out. Giles nodded and replaced his glasses, looking around at the tired faces surrounding him. “Why don’t I take you all home, and you can get some rest. I think we’ve made some good progress here tonight. We’ll keep working on it at the shop tomorrow. Stop in as you each have time.” Giles grabbed Marcus Somerton’s Watcher diaries as he left, certain he would find something useful in there. They all piled in his car, and he took them home pair by pair. *** Giles parked in front of the house on Revello Drive. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that Buffy would be waiting for him inside, and it had been five weeks. Giles wondered if the rest of his life would be measured from Buffy’s death. He heard voices as he neared the front door. He shoved the key in the lock quickly, trying to anticipate who would be at the other side. He had taken all the Slayerettes home and had noticed Spike duck behind the neighbor’s tree as he pulled in the drive. There was no one else who had reason to be in the house. If Dawn thought she could just invite people over when she was home alone at three in the bloody morning, he would have to have a word with her. In Sunnydale it just wasn’t safe. He saw her first, curled up in an armchair in her pajamas. She turned when she heard the door, her face sad and her eyes frightened. He rounded the corner, stopping in the archway when he saw them sitting on the couch. A woman he didn’t recognize. A man he did. The man stood and crossed the room. “You must be Mr. Giles. I’ve heard so much about you.” Giles smiled tightly, his heart pounding in his chest. When it rained, it certainly poured. “Hank Summers.” He offered his hand to the man, his grip perhaps a bit too tight. Hank turned towards the woman on the couch, shaking out the hand Giles had just squeezed. “This is my fiancé, Susan.” The woman joined him at his side, shaking Giles’ hand as well. Perfectly manicured nails, hair two shades too blonde, make-up and suit flawless. Closer to Buffy’s age than Hank’s, but who was Giles to condemn? “Fiancé?” Giles questioned with an upturned brow. Hank wrapped an arm around the woman and pulled her closer. “Yeah, it’s new for me too. After I heard about Joyce, I guess it just hit me hard, how short life is. Christ, she was two years younger than me. Susan and I were in Italy on business, and I just figured seize the day. We rented a boat and cruised the Mediterranean, and I proposed. A few days turned into a few weeks, just sailing across the water on our own. No phones, no faxes, no pagers. When we finally docked in Naples, my office had been trying to get a hold of me for a month. They had about a dozen messages from you, and someone in marketing had found Buffy’s...” His voice broke, and he took a moment to collect himself. “They had found Buffy’s obituary. We didn’t even go back to Spain, just got on the first plane to Sunnydale.” Hank looked shaken. The rest of them had over a month to begin to accept Buffy’s death. Her father’s grief was new. Susan jumped in to relieve the tense silence. “We wanted to call and let you know we were coming, but we barely made each transfer, and there just wasn’t enough time to use the phone. Our flight only arrived a half hour ago. I know it’s late, but Hank needed to see Dawn right away.” “Of course,” Giles nodded, his eyes searching out Dawn’s. She was watching him, her expression blank, waiting for his response. Hank looked back to his daughter. “Honey, you need your sleep, and it’s been a long flight for us. Susan and I are going to check in a hotel for the night, but we’ll be back in the morning. Is that ok?” Dawn nodded. “Good. Come give us a hug goodbye.” Dawn obediently came to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, her eyes closed. Giles felt his stomach sink as he observed father and daughter together. He stepped aside for Hank and Susan to pass, nodding blankly as Hank told him, “We’ll talk tomorrow, Mr. Giles, about arrangements for Dawn.” The front door shut. He was standing less than two feet from Dawn, unable to meet her eyes. “Y-you... you have school tomorrow, Dawn,” he stammered. “You should go back to bed.” She shifted her weight and played with the cuffs on her PJ top. “Dad said he would pick me up after school. Is that ok?” He smiled weakly. “Of course.” She headed up the stairs, pausing after a few steps. “Giles?” “Hmm?” She frowned, and opened her mouth, as though she were about to ask him something. She shook her head, and then sighed. “Good night.” “Good night, Dawn.” Giles locked the front door and wandered into the living room. He noticed he was still carrying Marcus Somerton’s Watcher diaries. They seemed so goddamn important barely half an hour ago. Now, he tossed them on the coffee table with his glasses and sank down into the couch. Elbows on knees, face buried in hands, he wondered bleakly what more could go wrong in his life. Did you really think the girl’s father wouldn’t come for her, Giles? Did you really think Dawn would want to stay with you when he did? He snatched the first diary from the table and donned his glasses. Hopefully research would distract him. *** “Willow, are you sure? You can always come back after class and help out.” Giles was pouring them both tea as the young witch set up her laptop on the table. “No, I’m fine. Not missing anything important, and I think I can help you out with the online stuff. You be Book Guy and I’ll be Computer Girl. Like research superheroes.” Giles frowned as he watched her boot up the machine. “I just never imagined you cutting class. It’s something Xander would be more likely to do.” “Hey!” Xander protested as he came up behind them. “My class cutting days are over. Now I just skip work. So book me. What do I got?” Xander flipped the top book off the stack, considering its weight as one might a bowling ball. “Ahhh. Dark Magicks. This should be… umm dark.” “Yes, I thought we might start with spells,” Giles said, as he exchanged Xander’s book for a thinner volume entitled, Rituals of the Dead. “I did further research last night. It seems Marcus Somerton was quite proficient at spellcraft.” Willow was still stuck on Giles’ previous comment, sounding somewhat offended. “I can skip class if I want to. It’s a college thing. It’s what college students do: skip classes. And it’s only summer school. That’s almost optional. Besides, it’s not like I’m skipping class to have wild orgy parties. I’m doing research. I’m studying. It’s like class, but without the students and teachers.” Xander settled down next to his best friend and opened his book. “Me thinks Willow protests too much. Although, maybe we could jump back to that wild orgy party imagery. I’d be cool with you cutting class for that.” Giles sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. “Maybe we could just get back to the vampires who have the skills of watcher and slayer. As I was saying, Marcus’ diaries indicate he had a talent for magic and a penchant for dabbling in the darker sides of his power. I think that however he turned Nicole, it must have involved a spell. If we figure out how he did it, maybe we’ll have some idea as to their weakness.” Tara took a book and slid into the chair on Willow’s other side, as Giles delivered a volume to Anya behind the counter. She looked at it with a frown. “I have to watch the register.” “Yes,” he said, as he returned to his own research, “But unless the entire graduating class of Hogwarts decides to pay us a visit, I’m fairly certain you’ll have time for both.” “Ok, but I should get time and a half for this.” Giles only rolled his eyes and dove into his own studies. Willow smiled and leaned across the table to pat him on the arm. “Way to go with the pop culture reference, Giles. Dawn’s a good influence on you.” He returned her smile somewhat sheepishly and sipped his tea. The morning passed slowly as the frustration level only increased. Willow found Marcus Somerton’s death certificate when she hacked into an online archive. He died in 1813 of severe blood loss attributed to deep puncture wounds in his carotid artery. So at least they knew when he was turned, but they were still no closer to an answer on how he Sired Nicole. Her first reported sighting was a year after Marcus’ death, and all sources seemed confident that he had turned her and not the other way around. They had all had very little sleep and by noon they were getting snappish. Willow and Anya started trading insults and when Xander tried to play peacemaker, they both turned on him. Tara simply got quieter, sinking deeper into her book, as one hand tapped her pencil against the tabletop. Tap. Ta-tap. Tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Ta-tap. It was mere inches from Giles’ open book, and he watched the pencil eraser rise and fall, the sound pounding into his head. Finally he could take no more and slammed his hand over hers. “For God’s sake, Buffy, stop it!” The bickering triangle across the table stopped mid-sentence. Tara gasped. The room silenced. Giles realized his slip, but there was no way to take it back. “I’m so sorry, Tara.” “It’s ok,” she answered softly. He could feel all their eyes on him, and it was more than he could take at the moment. “I’m going to… umm… I’ll be right back. I’m going to make some more tea.” He escaped behind the counter and lost himself in the familiar pattern of boiling water and measuring out tea leaves. The mood behind him had darkened, and he almost wished for the previous arguing to resume. For a short while it had almost felt like old times again, and they had almost been able to forget about their missing member. Maybe that’s why he had spoken her name without thought. Because for a short while, it almost felt like she was here. He rejoined a more somber group, each buried in their respective research. Willow glanced up as he approached and offered him a sad smile. “It’s almost 12:30, Giles. Do you want me to pick up Dawn?” It suddenly occurred to him that he hadn’t mentioned Hank to any of them. “Her father’s actually picking her up today. They’ll be by the shop later this afternoon.” Xander’s eyebrows lifted. “Her dad’s in town? When did this happen and how come you didn’t tell any of us?” “He only got in last night.” Giles fidgeted with his teacup. “I didn’t know he was coming. Then with our present situation, I simply forgot to mention it.” Xander slammed his book shut. “I can’t believe the nerve! The guy thinks he can just swoop in after five weeks and carry Dawn off? Where was he five weeks ago? Where was he when their mom died?” Willow placed her hand over his. “Xander.” She shook her head no. She cast a sideways glance towards Giles. “Not now.” Giles realized the pain was clearly visible on his face. Truth was he was terrified of losing Dawn. Taking care of her made his days bearable, made him feel useful, gave him purpose. More than that, she was his last tie to Buffy. Giles ducked his head back into his book. Xander muttered, “The guy’s a bastard. That’s all I’m saying.” And then the rest was silence. Giles lost himself in his research. Blessed research that had always blocked out the pain. After Randall, after Jenny, after Buffy, and now the possibility of losing Dawn. The analytical part of his mind kicked on, the emotive part kicked off. Until nearly two hours had passed, and he had reached a breakthrough. “I think I have it.” The others looked up, waiting for him to enlighten them. “It’s a resurrection spell, but with a twist. It folds time around the corpse of the deceased, reverting the body back to the last few minutes of life. It only affects the physical form, so the soul is still gone. The spell lasts a short time, minutes at most, keeping the body alive while it is working. But once the spell fades, with no soul to animate the body, it would simply die a second time.” Tara leaned in to read over his shoulder. “Unless the body was turned into a vampire.” “Exactly,” Giles agreed. Xander frowned, his finger darting through the air as he pieced together the puzzle. “So you’re saying this watcher guy, Marcus, his slayer gets killed and he’s upset. He mopes around for five or six years until some vamp makes him dinner and turns him into undead watcher. He still misses Nicole, but it’s been years, and she’s got to be pretty rotten by then. Not to mention, she needs to be dying, not dead, for him to make her a vampire. So he finds this spell, works some magic, and turns her body back the way it was just before she died. And then in the few minutes before the spell can fade, he drains her, makes her feed off of him, and viola, actual Vampire Slayer.” Giles nodded. “I would say that is a fairly accurate summary of the events.” He pushed the book away. “Unfortunately that leaves us back at the beginning. There’s no inherent weakness in this spell for us to exploit. The spell ended two hundred years ago. Now we’re just dealing with two regular vampires. Except one has the skills of a slayer and the other the knowledge and training of a watcher. We still don’t have any idea how to defeat them without our own slayer, and we don’t know what they’re doing in Sunnydale.” Willow pulled the book to her side of the table, reading through the specific spell. “Most of these ingredients are pretty common, except for these three. They’re usually the main component in whatever spells they are used for, but I’ve never seen all three together in one. Oooh!” Willow bounced in her seat and started typing on her laptop. “Anya and I have been converting your inventory and sales receipts into a searchable database. Let me check something out.” Her brow furrowed as she focused. “Yup, here it is. About two weeks ago, someone came in and bought themselves everything they needed for this spell. But they paid cash, so we don’t know who they are.” “Oh, I think we know who they are,” Xander countered. “Yeah,” Willow agreed, “But if they had paid with a card or a check, we might have some idea where they were living.” The phone rang, and Giles crossed the shop to answer it. He glanced at the clock: after 3. He expected it to be Dawn’s father. They wouldn’t be home until after dinner. They wouldn’t be home tonight. They had gone to LA and wouldn’t be back until the weekend. They had gotten standby tickets to Spain and wouldn’t be back at all. By the by, thanks for looking after my daughter, we’ll be sure to keep in touch. “Magic Box…” The others listened with half an ear to Giles’ side of the conversation. “Yes this is he… I beg your pardon?… Are you sure?… Yes, yes of course… When?… Yes, thank you… Of course… Perhaps tomorrow, if that’s ok?… Thank you again for calling.” The phone clicked back in its receiver. Giles looked very pale. He could see that his hands were shaking. He clenched his fists to steady them. “Giles?” Willow sounded concerned. “Dear Lord,” he breathed, “I think I know why they came to Sunnydale. It seems… that is… Within the last couple days, someone…” “Out with it!” Xander barked. “That was the groundskeeper at Restfield Cemetery.” Giles paused, took a deep breath. “In the last two days… the ground has been disturbed… Buffy’s grave is empty.” No one moved. No one breathed. The world had tilted on its side. Anya finally voiced the thought they all shared, but no one else could state aloud. “You mean they came to Sunnydale to use the spell on Buffy, to turn her into a vampire? You mean we might have to stake Buffy?” “Let us pray it doesn’t come to that.” Giles leaned back against the counter. His knees felt weak. “We can only hope Marcus hasn’t had a chance to perform the spell yet.” “Maybe this could be a good thing.” Xander sounded hopeful. “What if, when he does the spell, we do our own spell and put Buffy’s soul back, like we did for Angel.” Willow shook her head. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “That was a curse for vampires.” Xander tried again. “Ok, so after he turns her into a vampire, we… we… curse Buffy… so she can never be happy. Yeah, ok, bad idea.” He dropped his head onto the table. Giles shoved his hands in his pockets. They wouldn’t stop shaking dammit. “I think that wherever Buffy’s soul is, she deserves her rest. Let’s focus on preventing her from becoming the very thing she spent her life fighting.” Willow trailed her finger along the page of the spellbook. She wore a puzzled expression, and then reached for another volume on the table. “Giles, the incantation for the spell wasn’t in that book. But here.” She pointed to a page in the second book. “This one doesn’t give a full description of the spell or list the ingredients, but it has the incantation. It has to be performed at the height of a full moon and sanctified in blood.” Giles crossed the room to read over her shoulder. “Hmm… Tomorrow night is the full moon. So we have until tomorrow night to stop the ritual and prevent them from getting their blood sacrifice.” With his usual sense of timing, Hank Summers chose that moment to enter the Magic Box with Dawn in tow. Susan was nowhere to be seen, and Dawn appeared to have been crying. Hank looked angry enough to put a fist through something, and from the focus of his glare, it seemed like Giles was the something he was aiming for. “Mr. Giles,” he said curtly, “May I have a word with you?” Giles’ eyes slid back again to Dawn. She was watching him with wide, frightened eyes, her chin quivering. “Willow, could you take Dawn in the training room and help her get started on her homework?” “No.” Hank held his arm out to prevent Dawn from coming forward. He pointed towards the door behind him. “I told you to wait in the car with Susan.” “But, Dad, Willow always helps me with my homework.” Tears began sliding down pre-soaked paths on her cheeks. “Please.” “Go. Wait. In. The. Car. Now.” Hank’s gaze never wavered from Giles. Dawn stuck out her chin defiantly and marched around her father. Her courage dissolved several paces past him, and she ran the rest of the way into the training room. “Dawn! Get back here,” Hank called after her, but made no move to follow. Tara and Willow both rose and joined Dawn in the back room, shutting the door behind them. “Mr. Giles, while I do appreciate everything you have done for my girls after their mother died, and everything you have done for Dawn the last five weeks, you have completely overstepped your bounds.” Giles scratched his head, his mind spinning for the explanation for Hank’s anger. “Mr. Summers, I assure you, I have no idea what this is about.” “Someone’s got it in that girl’s head that she’s going to be staying in Sunnydale. With you. You telling me you didn’t give her that idea?” Giles looked away, at once relieved and frightened. On the one hand, Dawn wanted to stay with him. On the other, her father wasn’t going to make it easy. Giles couldn’t imagine a court anywhere that would give custody to a forty-something foreign bachelor instead of to the girl’s own father. No matter what Buffy’s will said. No matter what motion terminating Hank’s parental rights passed. All Giles needed was for the INS to pull his green card, and he wouldn’t even be able to stay in the country with Dawn. In the grand scheme of things, he really wasn’t the fit choice. Except that Dawn wanted to stay with him. “Mr. Summers, I only told Dawn that Buffy’s will named me as her legal guardian. That in your absence-” “Yes,” Hank interrupted. “In my absence. I’m here now, and Dawn is my daughter, and you are going to go back there and explain to her that she will not be staying in Sunnydale with you, that she will not be staying anywhere with you, that she will be living with her father and her future step-mother.” “For how long?” Xander stepped up between the two men. Giles had completely forgotten that he and Anya were still in the room. “I’m sorry. Let me introduce myself. I’m Xander Harris. I was one of Buffy’s best friends. And I do big brother duty for Dawn. But you would know all of that if you gave a rat’s ass about either of your daughters.” “Xander!” Giles admonished. “How dare you!” Hank sputtered. “I love both my girls, and if you think I’m going to leave Dawn in the care of strangers-” “Strangers!” Xander laughed and stepped forward into Hank’s face. “Let me tell you something, Mister. This man,” he pointed to Giles, “This man has been there for Buffy and Dawn everyday for the last five years. He’s been to birthdays and graduations. In fact, right about now I’m wishing you had been at Buffy’s graduation. Front row, center. “This man has been there for the high points and the low points. And more than a few of those low points have been the times their father stood them up for birthdays or weekend visits or annual camping trips. This man sat outside the morgue, filling out paperwork that your girls were too upset to think about, because their mother had just died. This man not only managed to actually attend your daughter’s funeral, but he planned the whole damn thing. And when no one could track you down, this man packed up and moved in with Dawn, rearranged his whole life to take care of her. “So, I’m just wondering how long you plan to stay in Dawn’s life this time. ’Cause I know this man will stay as long as she needs him to.” Hank’s eyes narrowed. “Are you quite through?” Xander considered for a moment. “No. Just one more thing. You are a complete bastard.” Xander stepped back and crossed his arms, as if daring the man to challenge his assessment. Hank turned back to Giles, his stance hostile as if he expected a rant from him, too. “Mr. Giles, I’ll be the first to admit I’ve made mistakes with my girls. What father hasn’t? I let work interfere, when I should have been making them my priority. But I spent a lot of time these last few months thinking. When I asked Susan to marry me, I told her we’d be moving back to the office in LA. It wouldn’t have been fair to make Buffy responsible for her sister when she had college and a life of her own.” Hank closed his eyes against the pain of knowing that now Buffy had neither of those things. He took a deep breath and forged ahead. “Mr. Giles, you and I both know that this isn’t about what Dawn wants. This is about what is best for her. I am her father. I’m the only real family she has left. If you care for her as much as everyone thinks you do, then I know you’ll do what’s best for her.” Giles looked back towards the training room. He didn’t need to see through the door to guess what was going on back there. Willow and Tara would be trying to comfort Dawn, to promise her that everything would be ok. Dawn would be crying, terrified that her father would take her away from all of them and probably even more terrified that Giles would just let her go. “Mr. Summers, I only want to do right by Dawn. If she wants to stay here with me, then I have to believe that is the right thing to do.” Hank’s jaw twitched. “You can’t keep her.” “Maybe not. But I can try. Buffy’s will names me as Dawn’s guardian. And the lawyer filed a motion to terminate your parental rights on the grounds of abandonment.” “What?” Hank took a step back, the shock clearly written on his face. “You’re actually going to take me to court over this?” “If I have to. I’d rather not.” Giles slipped off his glasses and leaned back against the conference table. “Mr. Summers, your daughter still loves you. She told me as much. She told me she wanted to visit you and spend time with you. I just don’t think she wants to live with you.” “No court in the land would give you custody.” Anya stepped forward, just behind Giles. “I don’t think any court will give custody to a father who hits his daughter.” “Excuse me,” Hank sized her up, obviously wondering how many more people were going to step up in Giles’ defense. “I have never laid a hand on-” “I saw you hit her not five minutes ago. Didn’t you see it, Xander?” Xander smiled wickedly. “Yeah, yeah, I’m pretty sure I saw him hit her, too.” “You two would lie for your friend here?” Xander rolled his eyes in frustration. “You still don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about Giles. This is about Dawn. And yeah, I would lie for her.” Hank backed off and headed towards the front door, shaking one finger in Giles’ direction. “This isn’t over.” “No,” Giles replied. “I imagine that it’s only beginning.” Xander waved the man off with one finger of his own. The door closed, and Giles released the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. “You both went a little over the top at the end there. I hope you’re not seriously considering crying abuse.” “Why not?” Anya asked. “Because the man could just as easily do the same to me,” Giles snapped. “And there are a helluva lot more skeletons in my closet to support his claim.” “Never thought of that.” Xander looked repentant. “I wouldn’t worry too much. I think we just scared him a little. Hopefully, when he cools down, he’ll see things your way, about what’s best for Dawn.” “I wouldn’t count on it.” Giles started back to the training room to fetch Dawn and the others. He stopped halfway and turned back to the young man who had so vehemently defended him. “Thank you, Xander. For what you said before.” Xander shrugged. “It was all true, you know.” Giles smiled, his eyes slightly misty. He crossed to the backroom and entered. How strange to have people in Buffy’s room. He was perhaps the only one who came in here after she died. The room still seemed to resonate with her presence, the sounds of their training sessions still echoing in his ears, the smell of sweat mingled with perfume still lingering in the air, their many conversations clearly recalled by the near perfect memory of a watcher. It was an exceptionally good training room, and the remains of their gang certainly needed to train if they were to patrol in Buffy’s place. But Giles never offered up this room for their use, nor did any of them ask. When they trained, they trained at Dawn’s house or Xander’s apartment. This was Buffy’s room, and for anyone else to use it seemed a dishonor. Tara and Willow looked up expectantly at his entrance. Dawn was curled up on the couch between them, her face buried in Willow’s shoulder as the redhead stroked her back tenderly. “Dawn,” he called softly, but she didn’t turn to him, didn’t move, just muttered something unintelligible. “I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?” “Are you mad at me?” Giles knelt in front of the girl, his hand on her knee, thumb stroking lightly. “Why would I be mad at you?” She sniffled and brushed tears from her face. Still she didn’t look at him. ”Dad yelled at you, didn’t he? ’Cause of what I said? I know I shouldn’t have said anything, but I didn’t want to go to Spain or to LA or anywhere, and dumb old Susan kept talking to me like we were best friends or something. And I know you probably think I should live with my dad. It would probably be better for you. You could have your apartment back and your life back and you wouldn’t have to worry about some stupid 14-year-old kid.” “No, Dawn, look at me.” She turned watery eyes towards him. “You’re not stupid. And I’m not mad at you. If you want to stay with me, then that’s what I want too.” “Really?” “Really.” He smiled for her, and she managed to frown less. “Dad hates you now, though, doesn’t he? And it’s my fault. He got mad when I said I was staying. He said that you were taking advantage of me, that you were turning me against him, putting ideas in my head. He said you were just a lonely old man who was using me so he wouldn’t miss Buffy so much. And I told him that he was the one who was using me so he wouldn’t feel so guilty about not being there for Buffy. And I told him…” She ducked her head down, found her fingernails suddenly very fascinating. Her voice got very small. “I told him you were a better father than he was.” Giles found he had no voice to respond to that. He simply gathered the girl in his arms and held her tight to his chest for long moments. Rupert Giles was not generally a physically demonstrative man. His own father had been a proper British watcher and his mother a submissive and formal lady. So as a grown man, Giles tended to show affection with actions or words, maybe an occasional touch on the hand or back. In the five weeks since Buffy died, he could think of maybe three times he had held Dawn like this, and every time one or both of them had been crying. Now Giles hugged Dawn close not out of comfort or grief, but simply to show her what, for once, his words would fail to convey. After a moment, he released her and stood, tipping his head back towards the door. “Your father’s gone for now. Shall we rejoin Anya and Xander?” Tara and Willow were smiling at him, Willow wiping away tears of her own. The four of them walked out of the training room, Dawn shyly curling her hand into his as they did. He gave it a squeeze, then sent her to the corner store for a newspaper. He didn’t really need a copy of the local paper; it rarely had anything of value or truth, just stories of gang activities and people falling on barbecue forks. But he did want Dawn out of the shop for a minute. They would probably all be researching until time for patrol, and Dawn would be here with them. It was vitally important that she not overhear anything about Buffy’s empty grave or the possibility that her sister could soon be a vampire. Willow came up with the code name Rumplestilskin, mostly because it was the first name she thought of and Dawn had walked back in the shop before anyone had a chance to improve upon it. *** Empty pizza boxes were stacked next to the cash register. The store had closed promptly at 7pm. Now it was nearly 9, and the sun was starting to set. Dawn lounged on the floor in a beanbag, playing with the Game Boy Xander had leant her. Occasionally Anya leaned over to watch and offer helpful suggestions on strategy. One of the others would always remind her that she was supposed to be helping them research. Dawn had been overly polite and good-natured all evening, especially towards Giles. She did as she was told without question, never argued, and tried to anticipate what any of the others wanted of her. Giles suspected he could ask her to clean out the storage room and she would do it without complaint. He knew where her desire to please was coming from, and he would have a talk with her about it later. He would tell her she didn’t have to be perfect to stay with him. But for now, he needed to focus on defeating Marcus and Nicole, and Dawn’s new attitude just made things easier. “Giles?” Willow was holding an open book in her hands, and she was practically beaming. “Umm… I know we’re not supposed to be researching… Rumplestilskin… right now. But I think I found something.” Dawn looked up from her Game Boy. “There’s a vampire named Rumplestilskin?” Giles slipped off his glasses. “We’ll be leaving for patrol in an hour or so, Dawn. Could you go back in the training room and pull out supplies for all of us? Crossbows and bolts for each of us. Stakes, crosses, holy water. And don’t play with the crossbows, or the swords. You could hurt yourself.” Dawn wasn’t a stupid girl. She knew she was being gotten rid of. She probably even knew it before, when he sent her for the paper. Yesterday even, she might have called him on it, protested that she knew what went bump in the night in Sunnydale and that she could handle whatever they were talking about. Today, she dutifully went back in the training room and left them to talk in private. “What do you have, Willow?” Giles asked as he leaned over the table. “I know we’re supposed to be figuring out where Marcus and Nicole might be hiding out, how to stop them. But I just had to try.” “What is it?” Willow passed him the book. “A spell, not a curse. It was used for possession, spirit channeling. But if we drop off the parts about displacing the host’s soul, I think we can put Buffy’s soul back in her body.” Tara frowned. “I don’t know, Willow. Bringing Buffy back… It’s messing with the natural order of things.” “No, it’s not. I mean, it’s not a resurrection spell.” Willow took her lover’s hands, almost pleading with her. “If Marcus does his spell, he won’t be raising Buffy from the dead, he’ll be turning back time, so she’s still alive. And then we just call her back to this world, open a window so she can get back in her body. Marcus’ spell ends, but the body won’t die, because it’s got a soul in it.” “Could this really work?” Xander was looking towards Giles, waiting for his assessment. “Theoretically, yes.” Giles was focusing on the page, trying to sort out his thoughts. “But the risks are too great. I don’t think we dare.” “Why not?” Anya asked. Giles took a deep breath, set the book on the table, laid his hands on either side of it. “Marcus’ spell will last mere minutes. In that time you will have to call Buffy back, open the window so she can return into her body, and somehow prevent Marcus or Nicole from turning her. Your timing would have to be impeccable and even then, I don’t think you’ll have enough time.” “But we have to at least try,” Willow countered. Giles sighed, pulled his cup of cold tea towards him, and then pushed it away again. He glanced back towards the training room to see if Dawn were lurking nearby. Finally, he met Willow’s eyes. “The time it takes this spell to call a soul back depends on how far the soul has gone. If we knew perhaps that Buffy were here with us right now, that she would be waiting next her body when you started the spell, maybe then there would be time. But for all we know, she has already crossed over to whatever comes after this life. If she has gone that far, it could take as much as an hour or more for her to return, and she would be too late.” “But we have to try,” Willow said again. “Willow, if you call Buffy back, and she isn’t able to get back in her body, her soul could be lost forever or trapped here.” Giles paused. He was trying to focus on the dry facts, the intellectual puzzle. But this was Buffy they were discussing. His throat constricted just thinking about it. He took a sip of cold tea and grimaced. “I like to think that wherever Buffy is now, she’s at peace. I don’t think I could take the risk of doing this to her. Could you?” He heard the thud as the training room door shut. Willow shook her head and lowered her eyes. Dawn strolled up next to him, taking in the pensive expressions surrounding her, but choosing not to pry. “Supplies all around. Five neat stacks. You did say you were all going patrolling tonight, right? Anything else you guys need?” Giles stood and stretched. “Just to take you home, where you will stay put until I return. Come on, then.” *** Buffy had tried. Every moment since she had woken beside an empty grave she had tried. She had followed Giles around like his shadow, waiting for him to fall asleep. She had spent the whole frickin’ night standing over his bed with her ghostly hands wedged in his brain. The best she got out of him was a shiver and an attempt to curl deeper under the covers. She knew he was dreaming. She could see it when he turned or mumbled or his eyes darted all around under his lids. But she couldn’t get into any of his dreams. It was just a fluke, that voice whispered to her. You’ll never get in his dreams again. She tried to shut out the fear and doubt. Instead, she went to the others. Xander, Anya, Willow, Tara, Dawn. Even Spike. She would touch each of them as they slept, at the moment she could see they were dreaming. Nothing. As she watched their research unfold, the fear began to stalk her. Someone had her body. Someone was going to make her a vampire. Maybe she should have gone into the light when she had the chance, because this certainly had to be hell. To watch her body desecrated, turned into one of the unholy creatures she was made to fight. To be forced to watch as a demon in her body took human life, possibly the lives of those she loved. And then Willow’s spell. The possibility that she could be channeled back into her living body, given a second chance at life. I’m here! I’m right here! She had wanted to shout it at them. Do the spell! Do the spell! It will work. And Giles. She wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him until his teeth rattled, until she could jog his memory, make him remember his dream. Giles, I came to you in your dream. You have to remember. I told you I was a ghost. I told you I was watching over all of you. You have to remember. You have to believe it was real. That night she tried again. She visited them each in their sleep. It was the last chance she would get. The next night was the full moon. Marcus would do his spell, for better or worse, and Buffy would not be able to affect the outcome. Her only chance was to reach one of them in their dreams, convince them she was real and that Willow should do the spell. All night she tried, and still nothing. ***
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