Disclamer: Angel belongs to Joss Whedon, everyone else belongs to me. I am making no money off of this fic.
Summary: A group of Jewish girls from a Russian shtetl encounter a newly ensouled Angel in 1904.
The Dybbuk
"Saraleh," Mama shouted as I left the house with the laundry. "Saraleh, Saraleh, your hair!" I touched my head, and shook it. Earlier that morning, I had let my sisters Rivke and D'vora play with my hair. It was now divided with many little braids, some of them with ribbons threaded through them. I rushed back inside and set down the laundry.
"Saraleh, you have grown into a young woman, keyna-horah, and you no longer can run out with your hair like that!" Mama's face was stern, but her eyes were smiling. She was amused.
"Sorry, Mama, I had forgotten." I had. Overall, I live up to my parent's expectations, but often little things slip my mind. A fortnight ago, I had patted my friend Avram on the shoulder, and, although he was six years younger than me, his mother had frowned in disapproval. "Snius, Snius. . ." she had muttered. Everyone else pretended not to notice.
Mama helped me comb my hair out before plaiting it into two neat braids. I thought it looked childish, but I said nothing. No matter what others might say about my age, a girl is not a woman until she stands under the chuppah. I gathered the laundry back into my arms and went out to the washing.
The river was cold and fresh; soothing contrasts to the heat of July. I looked around, and when I saw that only my friend Tzippy and cousin Chava were there, I splashed the water on my face and arms. I accidentally splashed Tzippy too, so she splashed me in return. She of course got Chava, and soon we were all splashing each other. We were all half soaked before Chava stopped laughing. Her smile had melted and slid off her face. Tzippy and I turned to the spot at which Chava was staring.
In the shadow of the trees a young man, emaciated and haggard, was slumped against an old birch. He was as pale as Zayde, may his memory be a blessing, had been just before he died, and he was shivering despite the heat. He wore no head covering; he was a goy, and his long and lank hair fell to his shoulders and obscured his face, but I could tell he was staring at us. He seemed so . . . hungry.
Chava, Tzippy and I drew closer together. "A deserter of the Russian army," I whispered. A coldness with nothing to do with the water from the river started to grow in my stomach.
"No," Chava replied. "He isn't wearing a uniform."
"Maybe he stole some clothing," Tzippy murmured. I almost started to laugh. There was a strange frightening goy only a few meters away from us and we were arguing about his clothing?
"Maybe, if we give him some food, he'll leave us alone," Tzippy whispered, and she bent down to take some of the rugelach she had packed. She stepped forward, holding the pastry out before. The man looked around him warily, and when she came close, it seemed to me as if his eyes flashed yellow, and his face changed for a moment. The others must have seen it too, because Tzippy let out a small scream and ran back to us, dropping the rugelach. Chava clutched at my arm. The coldness grew in my stomach and spread throughout my body until I was shivering like the goy. When I looked back at him, his face was back to normal.
Tzippy spoke first. "Ribbono shel Oylam, he is a dybbuk! My father taught me about his kind. They are from the Sitra Achra, and possess the dead." Chava, the worldly and practical one shook her head and managed a weak smile. But I kept shivering. Tzippy's father was a scholar of Kabbala and was in my own father's opinion a very wise man. I trusted Tzippy and her father.
We all were startled when the dybbuk spoke in a rasping and low. "Please," it said in Russian. "Go away. Leave me. Just go away."
"You will not harm us?" questioned Chava who spoke the best Russian.
The demon looked away and swallowed. "No, I won't. Just leave."
We stood frozen for a few seconds before I shook my head and grabbed Tzippy and Chava's arms and started to run away. We ran without stopping until we reached the market square.
"Oh no!" Chava moaned. "We forgot the laundry!" We all looked at each other before breaking into hysterical laughter that bordered on crying.
Glossary of Yiddish Words:
Chuppah – wedding canopy.
Dybbuk – spirit that possesses people.
Goy – non-Jew.
Kabbala – Jewish mystical texts.
Keyna-hora – words to ward away the evil eye. Kind of like knock-wood.
Ribbono shel Oylam – Master of the Universe, a title for God.
Rugelach – a kind of pastry.
Shtetl – small village.
Sitra Achra – literally, the Other Side. Roughly means the world from which evil comes.
Snius -- modesty
Zayde – grandfather