Part IV - But There Was No Information, and So We Continued



Giles walked out of the training room to the table of the Magic Box, and noticed that the disarray of the earlier battle was now gone. Dawn sat at the table, underlining passages in her textbook, as Spike looked over her shoulder. Xander and Anya stood at the cash register counting the day's receipts. Willow saw Giles enter, and walked from the bookshelves over to meet him, with Tara following close behind.

"Where's Jinx?" Giles inquired, dropping the book in his hands on the table.

"Sent him home," Willow replied. "I figured it wasn't a good idea to have him here when the robot gets back, just in case there's any damage."

"Said he was all in from the night's fight and sweep up," Spike added.

"Very well," Giles said. "We should get started on the materials I found on the medallion."

"Fine by me," Dawn said. "I'm not getting anywhere with this stupid urn."

"What?" Willow immediately gasped, a moment before she regained her composure and instructed her face to assume a more neutral expression.

"Urn," Dawn repeated. "As in 'Ode on a Grecian,' by John Keats."

"Oh, right!" Willow exclaimed, forcing a deliberately casual smile. "Your poetry homework."

"What did you think I was talking about?" Dawn asked.

"Oh, Keats," Giles said, as Willow silently thanked her luck for his interruption. Giles sighed, and orated:


"What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?

What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?

What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?"

"I give up," Dawn said. "You tell me. What the heck's supposed to be going on in this thing?"

"That's the point," Giles said, leaning over Dawn's shoulder to point to the text. "The ambiguity of the images on the...."

Giles voice trailed off as he noticed Dawn's notes laying next to her textbook.

"Dawn," Giles said. "I thought we agreed that you would come to me if you had any questions about your studies."

"What?" Spike said. "I summed it all up for her."

"Spike," Giles sighed. "Keats' poem is a testament to eternal and enduring beauty, and the transcendent nature of artistic achievement. It is not, quote, 'a crock about a crock,' endquote."

"I'm with Spike," Dawn said. "I mean, it's stupid. This Keats guy pretty much says that it's cool if you never get what you want."

"Keats is not referring to actual events," Giles replied. "He's commenting on the static images portrayed on the pottery. The heroes are portrayed in the midst of their adventures. Their stories become timeless, because the imaginations of those that see them will never be sated. It's the struggle of heroes that makes a story engaging. Resolution is ultimately unsatisfying, because all of the obstacles have been overcome. Because the moments in time portrayed by the etchings on the urn are preserved eternally, they will forever inspire those who perceive them."

"Lemme get this straight," Dawn said. "You're saying that, no matter how much people want to see the good guys win and the bad guys lose and the knight and the princess get married and have a million babies, they're really happier if everything stays miserable forever?"

"W-w-well, that's not precisely how I'd express the concept," Giles stammered.

"That's kind of warped," Dawn said, scowling. "I mean, on one hand, you're rooting for these guys. But really, when you get down to it, if they win out, you lose interest. That's messed up."

"It's not 'messed up,' Dawn," Giles said. "It's natural. Life is a constant struggle. We identify with characters because we empathize with them. It's tragic, yet it's also poignant, it's epic, it's...."

"It's a load of bloody rot is what it is," Spike interjected.

"Look," Giles said. "The poem...."

"It's just rot, is all," Spike continued. "These gits with their tragedy and angst. All scrawled by a bunch of poofters who probably never got in a finger's length of a woman. You want something, you go after it until it's yours. Anything else is rubbish."

"Spike," Giles said. "I hardly think...."

"Wait a sec," Dawn said, as she pulled her notebook in front of her and began scribbling quickly. "You're going too fast. How may 'f's in 'poofter'?"

"Just the one," Spike replied. "And it ends with an 'r.' It's silent."

"And suddenly the letter 'r' seems so virtuous," Giles sighed. "Perhaps we should turn our attention to the medallion."

"Sounds like a plan," Willow said. "Xander! Anya! We're ready."

Willow and Tara took seats at the table as Anya and Xander walked over and joined them.

"Reynaal was a archmage in the Nineteenth Century," Giles said, opening a volume on the table pushing the book to the center of the table. "His apprentice, Iparthus, took possession of Reynaal's Medallion after Reynaal was killed by a Druidic sect. Iparthus carried it for a time, and according to the accounts, fled to the New World when the sect discovered he possessed the medallion."

"And this is it?" Xander asked, gesturing toward a picture in the open book.

"The same," Giles replied.

"It does look a lot like the one we found on the net," Anya observed.

"The information from the internet was flawed," Giles said. "Which is not surprising. The materials you found suggested that Iparthus was buried in Sunnydale, which is erroneous. However, the web site did reference the Winthrop treatise, a far more reliable text. According to Winthrop, Iparthus was eventually killed by the sect, who found that the amulet was no longer in his possession. It was assumed that the followers of Iparthus took the medallion for safe keeping and fled west. However, they apparently were all killed in the earthquake that struck Sunnydale when the Master attempted to open the Hellmouth. It is theorized that one of those followers possessed the amulet, and was buried along with the other victims. Of course, given the rather high loss of life at the time, the exact location of any individual's remains is difficult to ascertain."

"What's with the caps?" Willow asked, squinting at the picture and pointing out two circular knobs on the surface of the medallion.

"They contain the materials necessary to invoke the magic of the amulet," Giles explained. "The medallion itself is plated in pure gold. The two small vials are constructed into the amulet. One contains a sacred oil, the other a caked incense. The wearer of the amulet is anointed with the oil, a small amount of the incense is burned, and after that the wearer is imbued with the amulet's power."

"What kind of power?" Tara asked.

"Essentially," Giles answered, "the amulet drains the physical and mental essence of whatever being the wearer touches. The amulet transfers that essence to the wearer. He gains the physical strength, the memories, and if the creature touched is a demon, the supernatural powers of the victim, who is of course killed by the process. As the wearer accumulates the essences of more beings, he of course becomes more powerful."

"Oh, like Rogue," Xander observed.

"Well, I suppose that is accurate," Giles said. "Any person who would be willing to kill simply to gain power would certainly be...."

"No, no, no," Xander said. "I mean, like the superhero."

"Oh, yeah," Anya said. "The little girl from 'The Piano' played her in that movie that disappointed you so much."

"I'll say," Xander snorted. "No Danger Room? Pfft."

"I thought a couple of the lines were kind of funny," Dawn observed.

"Please, if we can focus," Giles sighed.

"Okay," Xander said. "So these vamps are working for some guy who wants the amulet. They get some bad info off the net, and start looking for a tomb that doesn't exist. So they'll never find it, right?"

"A dangerous assumption," Giles said. "They have been researching this subject longer than we, and since they took the rather aggressive move of attacking us this evening, it would suggest that they are getting closer to finding the medallion."

"And we're not, really," Willow noted. "I mean, we don't know which of Iparthus' followers had the medallion, and we don't know where any of them are buried."

"So we've got nothing," Xander said.

"At least we know what not to look for," Anya said. "That's something."

"Yeah," Tara said. "I mean, at least we know what we don't know anything about."

"Not an entirely encouraging bit of progress," Giles said. "But progress nonetheless."

"So we start researching these minion guys," Willow said. "See what we can dig up, and keep patrolling in the meantime."

"What about our other problem?" Spike asked.

Willow scowled. "What other problem?"

"Jinx," Spike said. "Do we know anything yet about how to kill him?"

"Oh, that," Willow said. "Um...well...we've been concentrating on the medallion, and...well, that seemed to be more important...."

"More important?" Spike said. This time he scowled. "The little bugger is a walking bomb ready to go off. He's over at the house all the time, doting on the 'Bot. He must have let something slip. Some weakness, or vulnerability...."

"He doesn't like walnuts," Tara volunteered.

"Doesn't like, as in 'he-doubled-over-in-horrible-and-perhaps-mortal-pain' doesn't like?" Spike asked.

"No," Tara admitted. "Doesn't like as in 'he-picked-them-off-with-a-spoon-and-asked-for-more-whipped-cream' doesn't like."

"Whipped what?" Spike cried. "What the bloody Hell have you been...?"

"We're not still killing Jinx, are we?" Dawn said, her eyes widening as she searched the faces of the Scoobies for an answer.

"Can't be helped, Bit," Spike replied. "Not a pretty job, but it's got to be done. Willow, explain."

"Right," Willow said, nodding a little too quickly. "I mean, he's dangerous...or at least he was, and...well, there's the whole greater good thing...but...well...I was kind of thinking maybe we should maybe let him live, too."

"Okay," Tara agreed.

"See, that's three votes," Dawn said.

"Votes?" Spike said. "You don't vote on...he's a...Harris, explain to these people what we do to evil, dangerous demons."

"We kill 'em," Xander replied. "If we run across a demon, and it's evil, we slay it, no exceptions...."

"There you go," Spike said.

"...except this time, because I don't want to kill Jinx either," Xander finished.

"What!?"

"I dunno," Xander said. "It's just...he...he kinda...grows on you."

"And he's been really helpful around the shop," Anya chimed in.

"I don't...ugh," Spike grunted. "Look, Watcher, explain to these people what's got to be done."

"Well," Giles started, "Spike has pointed out...well, such matters warrant a great deal of...."

Giles' voice trailed off, until a slight smile crossed his face, and he said:

"He does have a...quality, doesn't he? That is, he's really rather amiable."

"And he can be so cute," Dawn said. "He's like a little kid. Like, remember when we asked him if he wanted chocolate sauce on his sundae?"

"Yeah!" Willow exclaimed. "He saw us squeezing the Hershey's syrup out of the bottle, and he said he'd never had chocolate before. He knew about chocolate, because he'd stolen some Godivas for Glory...."

"But she'd never let HIM have any," Tara added.

"Right," Willow said. "So we put a little of it on his ice cream, and he tasted it, and his eyes just lit up, and poured about half the bottle out in his dish, and every time he took a bite he made that yummy-yummy sound, and then...."

"Have you all gone bleedin' mad!?" Spike shouted. "Might I remind you all that your very helpful, very cute, very charming new friend is the same demon who, not that long ago, was trying to kill us all!"

"Um, well, Spike," Willow started. "Not to state the obvious, but the same thing's kind of true about...."

"It's not kind of true," Spike interrupted. "It's completely true. C'mon, how many people in this room got within a hair's breath of death because of him?"

After an uneasy pause, Tara said:

"Spike, I think what Willow's trying to point out is that, if you look back, most of us could say...."

"We wouldn't be saying a bloody word if he'd had his way," Spike continued. "And, what? We're supposed to forget all that, just because he lends a hand for awhile? Bollox! The only reason he's helping out is because he's got some weird obsession with Buffy. Now, is that the sort of thing you stake your life on?"

Spike looked around the room, expecting either agreement or argument. When he found only blank stares, he exclaimed:

"What?"

"You know, maybe Spike has a point," Xander said, trying not to smile. "I mean, look at Jinx's history. All those years he spent waiting hand and foot a lunatic woman, with her strange demands and random freak outs. Not exactly the kind of thing a normal guy does."

"Xander," Willow said, frowning.

"Don't cut him off," Spike said. "He's finally talking sense."

"Look, Spike," Giles said. "It's not that there isn't some merit to the points you've made. And I enjoy a bit of irony as much as the next, but you do see that everything you've said could just as easily...."

"...have been said to a brick wall," Spike said, strutting over to the counter to grab his duster.

"You morons want to make friends with that git, fine," Spike said, shoving each arm into the sleeves of his coat. "Wait here to be demon fodder. Hope you enjoy a bit of ice cream before your new friend gets you all killed. Tell you what, after I've had a nice dance on your graves, we'll all take a bleedin' vote on what to do next."

Spike turned and stormed through the front door of the Magic Box, slamming it closed as he left.

"Okay, that was odd," Tara said.

"I don't think that could have been more bizarre," Willow observed.

"I was speechless," Anya said.

"I stand corrected," Willow muttered.

"Unbelievable," Xander said. "It's like he couldn't hear himself. I mean, we're here trying to have a rational conversation about Jinx, and all Spike can do is rant on and on, 'he's evil, he's a killer, he can't be trusted.' He's just like the guy he was describing, and he didn't have a clue. How pathetic is that?"

Xander glanced at each of the Scoobies, expecting nods of agreement, but found that everyone was staring at him, stupefied. Finally, he said:

"What?"

"I'll explain later, Sweetie," Anya sighed.

"Guys," Dawn said. "I'm kinda worried. I mean, Spike seemed to be taking all of the stuff with Jinx sort of...personally. I've never seen him like that before."

"I think I get it," Tara said. "I think this may be different for Spike."

"Why?" Willow asked.

"Glory killed Buffy," Tara said.

An awkward silence passed.

"That is, of course, true," Giles finally said softly. "And I'm sure we'd all agree that Jinx shares some of the culpability for...."

"But that's just it," Tara interrupted. "It's a little easier for us to accept Jinx, because a lot of things happened that caused...well, the thing is, for us, it's not about Jinx. We blame Glory."

"And you think Spike blames Jinx?" Dawn asked.

"No," Tara said. "I think, maybe, Spike blames himself."

A quiet moment passed while the Scoobies considered Tara's surmisal.

"Guilt is a natural part of the grieving process," Giles said, breaking the silence.

"Hang on," Xander said. "Let's not make this more complicated than it is. Spike's a vampire. If he does weird stuff, I'm pretty much just going to put another tick under the 'vampires-are-weird' column and leave it at that."

"I dunno," Willow said. "He's done some pretty un-vampirey stuff since Buffy died. I mean, patrolling and all."

"Well, he can't kill people," Xander replied. "And he'd find himself in a real pickle if he went out killing demons all by his lonesome. Not killing at all? Not an option for William the Bloody. At the end of the day, I'd say we're all he's got, and he's making the best of it."

"Xander, you remember what he used to be like," Willow said. "Barely a month would go by when he wasn't coming up with some scheme to get out his chip, or squeeze us for money. Now, he's just...helping. I mean, if Buffy hadn't died...."

"But she did," Xander said. "And even if she didn't, he can't really believe he stood a chance with her. Heck, she practically blew her top when she found out about his little...whatever you want to call it."

"That's not how it ended, though," Tara said. "Near the end, they were...well, they were at least getting along."

"And, what?" Xander asked. "Spike got it in his head that signing up for the Anti-Glory brigade was gonna lead to something else?"

"Maybe not," Tara replied. "But that's the thing. He'll never know. That must be tough to deal with. I mean, think about it. Having to live with all those 'what-ifs.' It's kind of sad."

"Denial is also a part of the grieving process," Giles said. "Especially when the circumstances of the loss don't lend themselves to closure."

"That's what I mean," Tara said. "If Buffy had died back when they were still fighting, it would have been one thing. But like this...."

"She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss," Dawn read, staring down at her textbook and following along the words with her pencil. "For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair."

Dawn looked up at Giles. He drew a breath, pursed his lips, and then silently nodded.

"Well, how about that," Dawn mumbled. "I finally got one."



A/N: Lines quoted are from John Keats' "Ode on a Grecian Urn." Thanks to Estepheia for help with the dialogue.