Home Before Dark - Part Sixteen
by Debbie Nockels
COPYRIGHT: August 2002
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from BTVS or ANGEL. They're owned by Joss Whedon (who needs to treat them nicer), MutantEnemy, Kuzui, Sandollar, David Greenwalt, the WB, UPN, Fox, etc.
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Sunnydale seemed quiet and peaceful during the drive to Crawford Street, with few cars and even fewer pedestrians to be seen, but Angel knew how deceptive that appearance was. In the unlit alleyways and other dark holes of the town lurked vampires and other unsavory demons, in search of unwary humans to prey upon. Spike was somewhere out there, he was sure, maybe hoping to run across a deserted kill that was fresh enough for him to finish draining. Assuming there was any blood left in it to drain, of course.
Angel grimaced. He didn't want to think about Spike. Not tonight, when he could still feel Buffy in his arms, still feel her touch, her warmth. Which reminded him.
He reached for his cell phone, punched in the number of the Hyperion. Late though it was, he was fairly certain someone would still be there. Sure enough, Wesley answered. "Wes, it's me."
Wesley sighed in relief. "Angel, good. I was beginning to worry. How is the situation there?"
"Well, the song and dance demon is gone, at least," Angel replied.
Wesley detected a certain frustration in his voice. "Is something else wrong?"
"I need you to do something for me. Not tonight; tomorrow will do."
"Yes?" Wes reached for a pen.
"I want you to research my curse."
The pen stopped halfway to the notepad. "Your curse? Er, why?"
"Because there has to be a way around that true happiness part, and we're going to find it. It's stupid anyway; I can't imagine what the gypsies were thinking of when they put it in."
"I've often wondered that myself," admitted Wesley. "Creating a loophole for Angelus to return through doesn't make much sense."
"None at all," Angel agreed. "I'm planning on staying here for a few days, unless something comes up and you need me, of course."
"Right. Well, I'll get started on the research tomorrow."
"I'll talk to you soon. �Bye." Angel pressed the "End Talk" button and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat beside him as he turned into the entrance to the mansion.
Wesley hung up the receiver, then leaned back in his chair and stared thoughtfully at the opposite wall. Why had it never occurred to him - to any of them, for that matter - that Angel's curse might be altered so that the vampire wouldn't lose his soul again if he experienced true happiness? Rising, he went over to one of the bookcases and ran his finger over the leather-bound volumes.
"Transfiguration Spells of the Far East . . . Mythology and Wizardry . . . Demons I Have Known . . . Aha! Curses and Spells of the Romani!" He took the surprisingly slim volume down and set it on his desk, then reconsidered and picked it up again. "A little light reading will help me get to sleep." Tucking the book under his arm he switched off the light and closed the door on his way out.
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"Together you are powerful. Alone, you are dead."
Buffy opened her eyes, the memory of the voice still sounding in her ears. She'd had that dream again, the same one she'd had that night in the Hyperion, the one about the Mirror demon, or whatever it was. Mohra, that was it.
Frowning a little, she got out of bed. While she took her shower she wondered why she'd dreamed it a second time. It wasn't like it could be a warning or anything. How could it be, when the events in it - the real ones, that is - had already happened? And not recently either - no, it had been two years ago that she'd visited Angel in his old office in Los Angeles and they'd reiterated their decision to stay apart from one another, just before the Mohra jumped through the window into the office. As she dressed she decided to tell Giles about the dream, see if he thought there was any significance in it.
Entering the kitchen she found Dawn seated at the counter, a bowl of cereal in front of her. "Morning, Dawnie. Feel like some eggs?" Buffy opened the refrigerator and took down the egg container.
"No thanks," replied her sister. "This'll do me. How was Angel last night? When he left, I mean."
"He was fine, why?" Buffy cracked two eggs into the skillet she'd just coated with cooking spray, and turned on the burner to a high flame.
Dawn shrugged. "Just wondered."
Buffy found a spatula and began briskly scrambling the eggs. After a moment she glanced over at Dawn, who was just sitting there, running her spoon idly through the cereal but not eating anything. Was it her imagination, or was something wrong? "You're awfully quiet this morning."
Dawn just shrugged again.
Okay, something was definitely up. "Is everything okay?" persisted Buffy.
Yet another shrug. "Just tired. I didn't sleep real well last night."
"Oh? How come?" Buffy shook some salt and pepper over the solidifying eggs and stirred them again, turning the flame down a trifle.
"I kept hearing things."
Glancing sharply at her, Buffy frowned. "Like what?" She scooped up the mixture with the spatula and turned it over to finish cooking.
"Just . . . things. Voices." Buffy stopped in mid-motion. Dawn continued, "I mean, it wasn't words or anything, just kind of . . . I don't know, moaning or gasping or something."
Spatula suspended over the skillet, Buffy swallowed. "Moaning?"
�Yeah, you know, like this." Dawn closed her eyes. "Ohhhhh." It was more of a sigh than a moan, but Buffy recognized it instantly.
"Oh my God." Buffy shut her eyes, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. She swallowed again. "Dawn - " She opened her eyes to see her sister looking at her with an expression that could only be called a smirk.
"Gee, Buffy, do you think we're being haunted? Maybe by the ghosts of two lovers?" Dawn clasped her hands to her chest and moaned again, "Ohh, Angel . . . oh yes . . . Angel. . . yes, yes!" The last words were almost shrieked.
"I never said that!" Buffy exclaimed without thinking. Dawn snickered and Buffy's face flamed. Pressing her lips tightly together, she rescued the eggs just as they were beginning to scorch, dumping them onto a plate and carrying it over to the counter. She sat beside her sister.
"Very funny." Grimly she began eating.
Still chuckling, Dawn said, "Buffy, I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist teasing you a little. Come on, you're not really mad - are you?" Her voice turned coaxing.
Buffy sighed. "No, I'm not mad. Not at you, anyway. I am angry at myself, though, for putting you in that situation. I'm sorry; it won't happen again." Suddenly her head shot up, her eyes wide with alarm. She grabbed her sister's arm. "Dawn, you can't tell anyone about it! Child Services might try to take you away if they knew I had a man in my bedroom when you were in the house."
Dawn said soothingly, "Hey, I was only kidding about the noises. I didn't hear anything, honest. I was getting up to go to the bathroom when Angel came out of your room. I saw you two kiss and, well, since all you had on was a robe it didn't take an Einstein to figure out that something had been going on."
Buffy blushed.
Dawn eyed her. "So how did you get around Angel's curse? I mean, you are sure that he didn't lose his soul, right?" A worried look crossed her face.
Buffy blushed even harder. "Yes, I'm sure, and never mind how." Grabbing her plate, she wolfed down the last two bites on her way to the sink, rinsed her plate and stuck it and the fork in the dishwasher. On her way out she called over her shoulder, "Don't be late for school. I'll probably be over at the shop when you get out."
Chuckling, Dawn turned back to her cereal. She made a face, and headed for the sink to dump the soggy mess in the garbage disposal. That taken care of, she poured more cereal in the bowl, added milk, and sat down again - this time to actually eat.
<><><><><><><><><>
"This is very disturbing." Giles paced around the room for a minute, hands in pockets, deep in thought.
Tara bit her lip. "I know. It's like she thinks it's the answer to everything. She uses magic to open the curtains and make the bed in the morning, and if she can't find something, like a particular shirt, instead of looking under the bed or checking the laundry she does a �come to me' spell. I've tried to talk to her, but she just won't listen. Or else she gets angry."
Remembering the aftermath of that anger, how Willow had put a spell on her to make her forget their argument, Tara looked down at the table. She noticed she was rhythmically clenching and unclenching her hands together, and forced herself to relax them.
Giles stopped pacing. "There's something more, isn't there? Something other than just using magic for small, everyday matters." He studied her averted face, noting the shadows beneath her eyes, and made a shrewd guess. "Willow used magic on you, didn't she? Maybe so you'd . . . stop arguing with her?"
Tara's head jerked up. The shock on her face confirmed Giles' deduction. He sighed. "When magic-users go down the wrong path, they almost always begin with trying to make their own lives more pleasant. Which usually means tampering with people, and given your reactions to her yesterday it seemed a fair bet that meant you. And possibly others," he added.
"She put a forget spell on me," Tara said in a low voice that trembled in spite of her efforts to keep it steady. "So I wouldn't remember that we'd quarreled about magic a couple of days ago. But Dawn said something about it yesterday - she'd overheard us - so I looked up the herb Willow had left on my pillow. It w-wasn't a love token, like I'd thought. It was L-Lethe's Bramble." Her stammer reappeared, as it always did under stressful situations.
"Ah." Giles was silent for a moment, shocked and sympathizing with the young woman's pain. "I'm sorry," he finally said. "That's - after what Glory did to you, that was an unbelievable act of betrayal on Willow's part."
"I don't think that's occurred to her," Tara said quickly. "I mean, that what she did w-was the same thing Glory had done, just not as big."
"That may very well be true," Giles agreed, "but I'm not sure whether the fact that she didn't realize it is a good thing . . . or the opposite. At the very least it indicates she's not thinking clearly about what she's doing. I'd say an intervention is most definitely in order, and none too soon. I only hope it's not too late."
"It c-can't be too l-late!" Tara protested. "You saw the way she was last night, how she kept beating herself up for what happened to Buffy - blaming herself."
"Yes, and that's a good sign." Giles sighed, standing up. "Well, let's get started on our research about the resurrection spell. When Willow comes in this morning, I'll have a talk with her, but in the meantime Buffy needs our help too."
"Yes," agreed Tara with a sigh. She followed Giles over to the bookcase.
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"So, any luck?" Buffy asked brightly, plopping her purse onto the table where Tara and Giles sat surrounded by stacks of books. Giles just shook his head without looking up from the huge leather-bound tome he was perusing.
Tara said, "Buffy, we only started looking - " she peered at her watch "- half an hour ago. We can't expect to find the answer right - "
"Whoa." Buffy cut her off. "I was kidding, Tara. I know it'll take time; these things always do." Unconsciously she sighed, which drew Giles' attention away from his book. He studied her face.
�Is something wrong?" he asked her, then realizing how idiotic that sounded, added, "Something else, I mean. Since last night."
Buffy's smile was fleeting. "You mean something besides finding out that I'm not all here, in the literal, part-of-my-soul-is-playing-hooky sense? No, but there is something I want to talk to you about, Giles, if you can spare some time."
"Of course." Giles marked his place, closed the book, and looked at her inquiringly.
Buffy glanced at the other girl. "Maybe we should go into your office," she suggested. "So we don't disturb Tara."
Giles started to get to his feet, but Tara beat him to it. "I have a better idea. Why don't I walk over to Starbucks and get some coffee? You can talk while I'm gone."
"I made some coffee just for you," Giles protested. "It's in the office."
Tara exchanged a glance with Buffy, then smiled at him. "No offense, Giles, but I'd rather have Starbucks'." Grabbing her bag off the floor, she left.
"Is there something wrong with my coffee?" demanded Giles.
"You mean besides the fact that it could be used to strip paint off a car?" Buffy shrugged and sat down. "Not a thing."
Affronted, Giles decided there was nothing to be gained from pursuing that particular subject. "So what's on your mind?" he asked instead, rather stiffly.
"The dream I had last night," she told him. "I've dreamed it before, when I spent the night with Angel." Giles' eyebrows shot up and she added hurriedly, "I mean at Angel's, at the Hyperion, when I was there a few weeks ago."
He looked blank. After a second, Buffy shook her head. "Oh, I forgot, you weren't here then. A few days after I . . . came back . . . I went to L. A. to help Angel with a situation there and I ended up spending the weekend. You arrived a couple of days later, I think."
"That's right, I remember now. You mentioned it to me once but I'd forgotten. So, your dream, was it a Slayer dream?" he wanted to know.
Buffy shook her head. "I don't think so. It was really vivid and real, and it didn't feel like a Slayer dream. Actually, I had several dreams that weekend, but this is the only one that's had a rerun. You remember two years ago when I went to L. A. and saw Angel, after he came to Sunnydale that Thanksgiving?"
Giles nodded. He wasn't likely to forget that - nor Buffy's reaction when Xander had spilt the beans about Angel's presence there, which she hadn't known about until then.
Buffy went on, "Well, I don't remember if I ever told you this, but while I was talking to Angel a demon came crashing in through his window. It was big and green and had this huge glowing ruby in its forehead."
"A ruby?" interrupted Giles, his eyebrows shooting toward the ceiling again.
"Well, something that looked like a ruby," Buffy amended. "You know, all red and facety. Angel killed it right away by smashing the . . . whatever-it-was thing in its forehead. He said it was a Mohra demon."
Giles nodded in recognition. "Ah, of course. It's not a ruby, it's . . . well, we're not sure exactly what it is, but it's where the demon's life force is contained. Mohras are somewhat rare, as demons go. I'm impressed that Angel knew how to kill it."
"So was I," agreed Buffy. "I mean, he didn't even hesitate. The second after it crashed through the window, Angel had something in his hand and moved in for the smash job. Almost like he'd been expecting it."
"Perhaps he'd had word there was one in the area," Giles suggested. "Very interesting demons, Mohras. Their blood is regenerative."
Buffy looked blank. "Meaning what? If its arm gets chopped off it'll grow a new one, like a lizard?"
"Probably, given time," Giles said. "But it also heals wounds and cures diseases almost instantaneously, which is why the demons are so hard to kill. Their only vulnerable spot is the �jewel' on the forehead. At one time they were hunted almost to extinction just for the curative properties of their blood. That was when the Mohras became highly-prized allies of some of the demon lords. In exchange for protection the Mohras agreed to fight beside the lords in their battles and heal them if they were injured."
"Handy little arrangement," she remarked. "You scratch my back, I'll heal yours."
"Indeed," agreed Giles. "However, we're straying from the subject. You were telling me about your dream last night. I assume there's some connection in it with what happened two years ago with the Mohra?"
"That's what the dream was about," Buffy clarified, "except it was different. In the dream Angel didn't kill the Mohra - he didn't seem to know how to kill it. Anyway, it got away even though we both attacked it, so we went hunting for it down in the sewers. After a while we split up and I went outside, into the daylight."
"Where Angel couldn't go," Giles commented. "Which the Mohra probably knew."
"Right. Then I got a call from Cordelia that Angel had killed the demon. I guess I went to the beach because suddenly I was standing on the boardwalk looking out over the ocean. I felt something, like I always do when Angel is near, and I turned around and there he was, walking toward me. In the sunlight." Even the memory of that moment sent a wave of emotion coursing through her, and she had to swallow.
"He was immune to it?" asked Giles, recalling the Gem of Amara.
"No. He was human," she replied. "And that's basically where the dream ended, the first time." There was no need to mention the kiss they'd shared in it. She continued, "But last night there was more. Angel and I went back to his place - "
Giles interrupted. "His old place or the Hyperion?"
"His old place, the one that got blown up."
"So there was consistency within the dream," Giles mused.
"Yeah - which is also way different from the Slayer dreams." After a second she went on, "Anyway, we discussed how his being mortal changed everything - or he did anyway."
Buffy couldn't help the slight bitterness that tinged her voice. Recounting the details of the dream was also bringing back the emotions she'd experienced in it. "Angel said he didn't know who he was or where he fit in anymore and that he couldn't just �wedge' himself back into my new life, with school and everything, and he was afraid I might not be as focused on my Slaying if he was around. All the logical reasons why we should take it slow."
"Ah." Giles regarded her with a bland expression. "And did you?"
Buffy grinned self-consciously. "Uh, well - actually - no. During the conversation our hands touched, and - well - "
Giles raised his hand. "Right. No further details needed; I think I can figure out the rest."
Chuckling, Buffy said, "That's pretty much all of it. Eventually we fell asleep and that's when I woke up - this morning, I mean." Giles nodded his comprehension. "Oh, there was one other thing," Buffy remembered. "When I woke up - this morning - there was this voice in my head. It was saying, �Together you are strong. Alone, you are dead.' "
Giles repeated the words, then asked, "Did you recognize the voice?"
Buffy shook her head. "No. It was just a voice, kind of deep and . . . strong. Not strong like someone shouting, but . . . resonant . . . kind of echo-ey."
"Hmm." Giles reflected.
Buffy watched him for a few moments, then said, "So do you think it's important? The dream, I mean."
Giles sighed and stood up, stretching his back. "Well, I agree that it doesn't appear to be related to your Slayer duties, but I'm afraid I have no idea if it has any other significance. On the surface it would seem to be merely wish-fulfillment. I'm sure you must have wished many times that Angel were human - even dreamed of it, perhaps." He picked up his cup and headed for the office.
Buffy snorted. "Of course I have, about a zillion times, but never like this, where the dream was based on something that actually happened. Besides, I didn't tell you about the other dreams."
Giles stopped and turned. "Other dreams? You mean last night?"
"No, that night at the Hyperion. I had two other strange ones, and one of them turned out to be something that had actually happened to Angel. Something I hadn't known about until then."
"You had three similar dreams all in the same night?" Giles began moving again. "Wait a minute. I need more tea before hearing about this."
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"I simply don't know what to say, Buffy," Giles said at last. He took another sip from his cup and grimaced. Buffy was right, this coffee tasted terrible. Of course coffee usually did, to him, but he'd felt the need for something stronger than his usual cup of English Breakfast.
Giving it up as a lost cause, he set the cup carefully in the saucer and sat back, running his hand through his thinning hair. Tara had returned to the store about five minutes ago, so they'd moved their conversation into the office, with the door closed so she could continue her research undisturbed. "The dream you had about Angel's epiphany is . . . fascinating, but - "
Buffy cast her eyes upward. "You sound like Mr. Spock."
Giles ignored the interruption. "But although I'll definitely note it down for further consideration, I don't see that it necessarily has any connection to the other two dreams, either the one about his visit after Joyce's funeral or the one about the Mohra. I still feel those were most likely just your own wishes becoming more . . . tangible."
"Did I mention that Angel also dreamed about his visit here last spring?" Even after all these months, Buffy avoided referring directly to her mother's funeral. "As in, we shared the exact same dream that night?"
"What?" Giles gave her a look. "No, you failed to mention that little detail."
"Well, he did. We did. Like we did that time when the First was trying to make him kill himself." It was Buffy's turn to lean back, while Giles rose to his feet and set about making himself a cup of tea to replace the undrinkable coffee.
"I see. Well, that certainly adds another dimension of interest, not to mention confusion." He busied himself with tea bags and boiling water, his mind working furiously. As the tea was steeping he turned to Buffy. "I have to admit I'm out of my league with all this. With your permission I'd like to consult a friend of mine in England."
Buffy frowned. "Someone on the Council?" She still didn't trust the Watchers' Council and didn't want them knowing about her resurrection.
"No," he reassured her. "No, this is a woman I've known for many years - decades, really. She's an expert on the paranormal, as well as being a psychic herself. I also trust her implicitly."
"All right then," Buffy agreed slowly, though not without misgivings. Standing up, she looked around her. "Where's my purse? Oh yeah, I left it in the other room." She reached for the door.
"Are you going somewhere?" Giles was surprised; he'd expected her to help with the research - or at least to work out in the back room.
Buffy grimaced. "Grocery shopping. I hate it but the cupboards are bare, not to mention the fridge. I'll be back later, Giles; don't worry."
After she left Giles looked at his watch. With the eight-hour time difference between California and England, he could probably catch Miriam at home before she left to attend whichever evening activity she was involved in that day. He picked up the phone.
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The bell jangled as the door flew open, banging against the doorstop. A bent figure dashed inside, a leather duster held over his head. "Bloody hell, that's hot!" He swatted at the smoke wafting upward from his black jeans.
"What do you want, Spike?" Giles straightened up from his book and fixed an unwelcoming look on the peroxide vampire.
Tossing the coat over a chair back, Spike raised an eyebrow. "My, aren't we friendly today! Don't get your boxers in a wad; I'll be out of your hair soon. What there is of it." He cast a disparaging glance at the top of Giles' head.
Giles ignored the taunt with the ease born of long practice. "You're leaving Sunnydale?"
He spoke more out of habit than any real hope that it might be true, but to his surprise the vampire mimed admiration. "Give the man a gold star. Got it in one, Rupert."
"What?" Giles stared at him, as did Tara. "You're really going away? For how long?"
"Forever, I hope." Spike glanced around the shop, then toward the back room. "Is Buffy here?"
"No." Still taken aback by Spike's disclosure, and not completely trusting what he was hearing, Giles didn't volunteer any further information.
"Oh." Spike's voice was flat. Disappointment flashed across his face, then his expression went blank. "Thought she might be training. Well, tell her �adios' for me then, will ya?" He grabbed his coat and turned.
"You're leaving now?" Giles glanced at the window, wondering confusedly if there'd been a sudden change in the weather. No, the sun was still shining brightly. "In broad daylight?"
Spike shrugged. "Got me a new set of wheels, painted the windows over and gassed her up last night. So why not? There's nothin' to keep me here." Again his voice flattened, causing Giles to regard him thoughtfully, with speculation.
"What about Dawn?" Tara asked softly. "Aren't you at least going to say goodbye to her? How do you think she'll feel if you just disappear without a word?"
A muscle twitched in Spike's chiseled cheek. "Never was one for mushy farewells," he said gruffly. "Tell the Niblet - "
He paused. "Tell her . . . tell her I hope she has a good life." With that, he turned on his heel, hoisted the duster high above his head, and was out the door.
Giles and Tara stared after him, then turned and stared at each other.
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