Chapter 9: Witches
Those two words have occupied her for days now. Was this it, the answer she was looking for? What did he mean, or to be more accurate, how did it apply to her? It wasn't exactly '42'1, but it wasn't step by step instructions either. Thankfully she has just gotten her hands on something equally as fascinating, the Key. McClure proved quite thorough and there were thousands of electronic documents for her to peruse. The artifact passed through dozens of hands; sorcerers, alchemists, priests. They experimented with it, worshiped it, and occasionally tried to destroy it as an evil conjuring. The writings were numerous and detailed. Also, mostly useless, essentially a protracted list of failures. The only consistent result they were able to generate with the Key was the temporary disintegration of boundaries between the current reality and the surrounding demonic dimensions. Perhaps this was the origin of the name. Still, almost all believed that the tremendous power bound within the artifact can be channeled to other uses. Experiments to find these went on for century after century with minimal results. None of these people had any idea of what the Key was. Even pooling all their knowledge together the best Dawn could come up was a list of things it wasn't, casting a significant doubt on the old adage 'something is better nothing". Of some interest were the notes of a Croatian mage who postulated that the Key is a living entity. He believed it was the only way to explain its very inconsistent responses to identical stimuli. All this poking and prodding without any regard for pain and suffering it may cause. Would they have done the same to her? All she had of these long passed men and women were electronic copies of mostly impersonal lab notes, yet somehow she had no doubt as to the answer. Dawn knew too well what it's like to be hunted. Now the people she trusts the most: Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Giles are also the only people left alive who know her secret. Unfortunately it meant at least one other who does, the First. One word from the Creature and the nightmare starts all over, yet It keeps silent. Why? Why not blab Stefka's true identity to every one of Leshii's enemies? Wouldn't the First benefit from the distraction? The call was only a second away from going to voice mail when the ringing finally got through to her.
It was dusk. The red tinge of the sun blended into the orange of the torch lights as Dawn descended down the narrow winding stairs into the basement. First turn on the right then another right. Just like the sewers in Kiev. Perhaps it's Leshii's lone eye that makes him subconsciously veer in that direction. She knocked on the door. To her surprise it was Bones who opened it.
"Come join the fun," he smirked and gestured invitingly. She followed his gaunt frame inside. It was warm. Leshii was sitting on a wooden bench churning logs in the fireplace. To the left of him a man was sitting in a wheelchair. Moving in closer she noticed his legs, arms, and torso were strapped in several places. A gag was placed in his mouth. His face was too badly beaten to tell with any certainty, but Dawn placed his age in late thirties.
"Meet Mr. Austin, " Leshii spoke in Russian, "Mr. Austin has information that he does not wish to share with us."
"Clearly," she answered as calmly as she could, "Why am I here? Shouldn't you have called Zemfira instead?"
"Zemfira is very good at inflicting pain for its own sake. Interrogation is a skill she was never interested in mastering."
"I meant she reads minds."
"Not this one. Mr. Austin is a witch hunter. She has no power over him."
"Wait, didn't you say you killed all the witch hunters?"
Leshii finally put down the fire poker and turned to Dawn.
"No, I didn't. I would never make such a blanket statement. I killed those I knew to be working for the order of Taraka. This man worked for the Watchers' Council. The name of his present employer is one of the items you will help me retrieve"
"What makes you think he knows anything?"
"The spell that chased Zemfira out of Istanbul is being weakened significantly by the anomaly this castle is built on, but not nullified. There's not a creature on record with that kind of power which leaves just one possibility..."
"Personal item," Dawn finished for him.
"A witch of Zemfira's stature is well aware of the power these items have. She has only a few and they are accounted for. She burns her hair and nails as soon as she cuts them. The situation stumped me for a while until I realized that Zemfira wasn't always a powerful witch."
"They robbed her grave," Dawn instantly caught on, "Gypsies bury all kinds of trinkets with their dead."
"Finding a three hundred year old grave of a no name nomad is not an easy task. Luckily I didn't need the grave, just the man who was looking for one. A Brit digging up half of Basarabia was an easy mark. Didn't even bother changing his name when filing for permits. His employer must not have informed him of who Zemfira was working for. Quite an oversight," Leshii paused for a second. "We need to know what he retrieved, who he gave it to, and who gave the order."
"I don't know what you expect me to do. I can't hit him any harder than you have already," deep in her stomach Dawn was getting a distinct feeling that something terrible was about to happen and she needed to get out before it did.
"You have come to me to learn. Today I will teach you interrogation. There are two ways of obtaining information from a person: bribery and fear. One of them will always work if taken to the necessary extreme. All this," Leshii pointed to the prisoner's face, "was mostly a test. I needed to know what kind of person he is to devise an appropriate strategy." He took Dawn's elbow and walked her over to within a few feet of the wheelchair. "The righteous types are the hardest. I divide them into two categories, martyrs and heroes. Martyrs arrive with the notion that their mission in life is complete and death is the only thing remaining. That is their weakness. As their psyche is broken down by regular torture, they focus more and more on their remaining ambition until they care for nothing else. At that point they will tell you everything you want to know to get that eternal peace: bribery. The process is long, weeks, even months. Fortunately our man is of the hero type," the last sentence was spoken in English. It was clear the rest of the lecture was meant for the prisoner as much as Dawn, "Heroes are capable of sacrificing their lives, but it's not their intent. Mr. Austin is planning on surviving. He believes the information he has prevents me from murdering him. Being a hero he also believes in good triumphing over evil. Even now he believes that he will win in the end. He'll either escape or be rescued. All he has to do is hold on long enough and everything will be alright. As long as he believes these things we won't get anything. To be able to use our other option, fear, we must convince him that he is wrong. What do you propose we do?"
"You can kill him, but that would make it hard to get information. You can kill all of his friends, except he won't tell you who they are because they aren't dead yet. It's all very circular," Dawn answered with a failed attempt at a smile.
"There's the third prong"
"There is?"
"That if he holds on long enough everything will be alright."
"I don't get it"
"Let me demonstrate." Leshii walked over to the wheelchair and thrust two fingers of his left hand into Austin's eye socket. The man screamed into his gag while Dawn covered her own mouth to keep quiet. The gangster leaned over his prisoner, just inches from his mutilated face, "Now even if he was rescued this very moment, things won't be quite alright, would they?" He straightened up and looked over to the mortified girl. "Your turn"
"What?"
"It doesn't have to be an eye. In fact, I would prefer to leave his vision intact. The expectation of an event enhances its effect," out of the corner opposite the fireplace Leshii dragged a cart over to the chair. On top of it were two open toolkits filled with cutting implements of various sizes. "Choose a body part you wish to remove, pick an appropriate instrument, and proceed."
"I can't," Dawn took a few steps back, her head starting to spin.
"You can. You have. Zemfira kept her word; she didn't say anything," he continued looking straight into the girl's frightened eyes, "But I have been with her long enough to see where her work ends and someone else's begins. You were amateurish, but imaginative. I think you'll do well."
"That was different," Dawn barely managed to squeeze out a response.
"Was it? What about that captain in Chechnya?"
"They deserved it."
"Says who, you? It's only different because you say it's different. Why? Because he thinks what he does is right? I'm sure the captain thought he was within his rights. Mr. Austin is withholding information crucial to our operation. He's endangering your sister's life. The damage his silence is causing is far greater than any of those other persons"
"He doesn't know that."
"Do you think it will make a difference?" Leshii snapped his fingers in Bones' direction and the underling pulled out the gag. The Englishman proceeded to cough out all the spit that has accumulated in his mouth; his breathing was rapid and angry.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize what he was going to do," she started out tentatively, "This is all just one giant misunderstanding. I can't say Zemfira is not evil or harmless. She's neither, and under different circumstances what you are doing would be the right thing, but at the moment it's not." The prisoner's reaction was almost impossible to gauge. He was still slumped over in his chair, gazing downwards. His breathing has normalized, but he uttered nothing.
"What we are facing is a bigger danger," Dawn continued. "We need Zemfira's help. We need all of these men's help to fight a greater evil. Do you understand?"
"Greater men will fight greater evil. I'll fight the evil I know," the Englishman's voice was low, but steady.
"You are wasting time. You should just get to it," Leshii chimed from afar.
"You are not helping!" Dawn screamed. She tried to calm down, but every second she took made her feel more and more like she was loosing the grip on the situation. "I don't know what I can say to make you believe that helping Zemfira is a good thing, but you have to know that your life is more important than her death. You want to fight evil? You can't do it when you are a blind death-mute paraplegic! Eventually he will make you tell, trust me, but then it'll be too late. You don't know what he is! He'll make you. If you are capable of believing anything I say, believe this!"
The girl's desperate plea seemed to have some effect on the prisoner. He lifted his head and looked up at her face.
"I don't know what he is, but I sure as hell know what you are. You are a coward as well as a liar. These people that you hold so different from yourself, you know what they do and you excuse it in the name of fighting the greater evil. So what makes me so special? You don't care if I get tortured and killed; you simply hate to dirty yourself watching."
The calm tone of the man's words made them even more corrosive. They filtered through her ear drums and descended into her stomach pushing up that knot of anger and desperation. She tried to speak, but the words couldn't find a way out.
"He's right you know," Leshii piped in again, now in Russian, "It's pathetic. Are you seriously going to endanger your sister's life based on some self-imposed moral technicality? Are you really that selfish?"
The girl turned to the gangster then back to the prisoner. Their voices overlapped in her head, twisting and turning, filling her up till she felt there was no room left for her own thoughts. She turned away from both of them grabbing hold of the tool cart with both hands.
"You are worse than them. At least they hold no illusions," Austin continued. "There's no moral superiority to not doing yourself what you already consider acceptable for others. You are afraid you won't be able to face yourself, but you have long lost that battle. You see a hero where there's nothing but a loathsome, crooked child!"
Dawn screamed. The cleaver in her hand dropped down slicing the prisoner limb at the wrist. The blood squirted everywhere.
"Here, " she heard through the fog and felt the handle of the fire poker where cleaver used to be, "Sear the wound; you don't want him to bleed out." Without thinking she pressed the red glowing end into the stub. Austin's face in front of her contorted in pain. His mouth was open. He was probably screaming, but she couldn't hear anything. Someone took the poker from her hand. She stumbled over in the directions of the fireplace when it hit her. The smell of burned flesh poured down her mouth and nostrils. Dawn folded over holding her stomach. She felt her insides churning preparing to burst out her throat when Bones pulled her up and thrust a lit cigarette into her mouth.
"Here, nothing kills the smell like a good smoke," he said helping her over to the bench.
"We wait now, " said Leshii sitting down beside her. "It's good to give the subject some time for the situation to sink in."
Dawn tried smoking once before, in 8th grade. She almost threw up. This time around it had the opposite effect. Her body and mind seem to settle as the white cylinder grew shorter. When it was almost out she motioned Bones for another and he was happy to oblige. The break was coming up on half an hour. Bones, bored out of his mind was pacing around the room when he stumbled upon Austin's severed hand. Picking it up he twirled it about pensively as if trying to recall something.
As carcass was being carved up by his dad
The butcher's kid paces around him, mad:
"I told you to do it while mom was alive!
Carrion's worth only buck twenty five!"
"Pushkin," he finished dramatically announcing the author of the limerick.
"What?!"
"Not the Pushkin," Bones added taken aback by Dawn's vocal response, "A guy we had in the gang a while back. Knew hundreds of these, hence the nickname. Personally, I prefer him to the original. How about you?" He poked the prisoner with his own limb, "I bet you are a Shakespeare kind of guy, right? I don't think he understands Russian. Ask him if he likes Shakespeare."
The look in Dawn's eyes required no verbalizing.
"Whatever," Bones raised up all three hands in a mock surrender, "Just making conversation"
"Alright, my turn"
The words were spoken calmly, even quietly, but the sound cut across Dawn's ears like one of those instruments shimmering on the small table.
"A hand is a natural choice, but for greater effect you want to choose a part that isn't easily replaced by a prosthesis," said Leshii picking a small knife with a very sharp and narrow blade. He crouched in front of the prisoner and slit open the front of his pants. He grabbed the man's genitals at the base and pulled them slightly readying the area for the incision. "Get the poker," Leshii ordered Dawn, most likely, her being seated next to the fireplace. She didn't move watching Austin's eyes, wide as saucers, as he screamed something into his gag.
"Bones," Leshii motioned the thin gangster with his scalpel. The gag was removed, but the prisoner fell suddenly silent.
"I understand your hesitation, Mr. Austin. You are afraid that if you reveal what you know you will loose your leverage, yet the torture would go on. All I want is information. Once I have it there would be no point in continuing. I am not enjoying myself. Are you enjoying yourself, Dawn?"
"No," she answered hoarsely
"I'm going to assume you are not enjoying yourself either, Mr. Austin. We all have better things to do," for a few seconds they looked at each other eye to eye, the man's genitals still firmly in the gangster's grasp. "As you wish, " Leshii finally shrugged and raised the knife.
"Stop!" the prisoner closed his undamaged eye trying unsuccessfully to stop a tear from running down his face. "What do you want to know?"
"Who gave you the orders?"
"Mr. Traverse and I used the draft option of an email account to communicate. That way there's no message to intercept. I assumed one of the surviving Watchers has taken it over."
"Or the First, " Dawn spoke grimly from the back, "It would know all Traverse's passwords"
"Where are the items you recovered?"
"I gave them all to my contacts in Glasgow."
"Who are they?"
"Two women. I've never seen them before. They knew me; they new the passphrase, so I gave them the items."
"I need names."
"I don't know their names."
"You are not being very helpful, Mr. Austin," Leshii hand having never let go of his prisoner now squeezed harder, "Perhaps your memory needs further incentivizing."
"I swear!" the man cried desperately, almost hyperventilating from fear. "They were British. One's around forty, the other in her early twenties. I think the younger one may have been Scottish," Austin kept turning his head side to side trying to remember anything else. "They referred to each other as 'sister', but I don't think they are related."
"Nuns?" Leshii looked up inquisitively at Dawn
"Witches," she answered, "In a close nit coven they refer to each other as sisters."
"A coven. Now that is something. Not an individual, not a random grouping of individuals, but an established British coven; likely with close ties to the Watchers. There are only so many of them," he rose to his feet and placed the scalpel back on the table. "We are done. Tell Zemfira he's all hers as long as she keeps him alive. He may still be useful."
Austin didn't have time to protest as Bones shoved the gag back into this mouth and wheeled him past Dawn out of the room.
"We are finished. You may return to your studies." Without a word, she stood up and walked out the door. Outside Zemfira has now taken over as the wheelchair driver.
"Look!" she shouted excitedly to Dawn, "I finally got a boy! He isn't exactly in brand new condition, but," she nodded in the direction of the prisoner's sliced slacks, "he's still a boy. Coming with or taking a break?"
The reply was a blank stare.
"Suite yourself," the vampire shrugged, "The boss says I have to keep him around for a while, so feel free to drop by anytime," she smiled and pushed the chair down the corridor. Dawn watched as the witch disappeared into the entrance of her personal dungeon. She stood there for a minute staring at the wooden door then turned around and walked away.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Willow felt a bit suspenseful going up to Buffy's office. She's been in Rome for months and didn't even know she had one. Buffy never had a proper study area even back in her Sunnydale home; choosing instead to settle with a textbook on her bed or the living room couch. Tutoring her at a desk in the school library was a nightmare. For some reason Buffy's brain seemed to function so much better fully vertically, on her feet, or horizontally, lying down. Willow wished she could bet someone the Slayer's office will have a nice comfortable couch in it, but she was very much alone. No so Buffy. Even without touching the handle the witch knew there were other people inside. She paused, but was mentally waved in by her friend. Inside she found Buffy leaning way back in her chair with Stefka standing against the wall to the right of her. In front of the desk Samira was loudly protesting something. A good looking sofa next to the doorway was taking up the rest of the wall.
"It's not fair!" the Persian girl gesticulated wildly, "It's been weeks!"
"There's no statue of limitation on unauthorized parties with boys and wine," Buffy replied authoritatively.
"Boys and wine, oh no!" Samira mocked her, "They certainly don't have any of those at the clubs we go to all the time!"
"You go, but almost a quarter of the girls are under sixteen. Najah just turned thirteen. Rasa, May, and Olga are barely fourteen. I don't want them exposed to liquor and those sex maniacs you hang out with!"
"They are not sex maniacs, they are Italian! And Najah, that little burqa happy tattle-tale, told me I'll burn in jahannan2 and barricaded herself inside her room. The rest of the youngsters were only allowed in under strict terms: one glass of wine and no bracelet. The guys were all in on it: no bracelet – no touching"
"Bracelet?" Buffy scoffed, "Handcuffs couldn't keep a guy off Rasa."
"She's that hot?" Willow asked skeptically.
"She's that top heavy Lithuanian blonde with legs up to her ears."
"That girl is fourteen?!" Willow mouth flew open, "She can't be fourteen. That's just...cruel."
"Fine," Samira resigned, "So I busted a few noses, but after that she was good as a leper!"
"Until you got drunk and stopped caring," Buffy added.
"I didn't drink"
"Am I supposed to believe that?"
"She's not lying, she's Muslim," Stefka finally joined the conversation.
"I think you're confusing Muslims with Vulcans"
"I think she means Muslims don't drink, Buffy" said Willow trying to hide her smile.
"Right, I knew that"
"Persians are known for smoking a lot of hashish, though," Stefka suddenly turned defense inside out as Samira practically choked with indignation.
"That is a vile stereotype!"
"Please," Buffy smirked, "You were high as a kite. I just assumed it was alcohol, but just verified it was indeed hashish. Thanks, Will, " she added tapping her temple with her finger.
"What?" Samira gave both a confused look before the epiphany struck her right between the giant black eyes, "No way! She can't do that! You are not allowed to read minds without consent!" she yelled at Willow, "It's in the rule book; you wrote the rule book!"
"I did," Willow nodded calmly, "And I didn't read your mind"
"She really didn't," Buffy smiled patronizingly from her chair, "I just wanted to see your reaction. You are busted, missy"
Realizing she'd just been had Samira turned from Buffy to Willow in search of some sort of a way out.
"That's no proof," she stumbled, "It'll never hold up in court!"
"What court?" Buffy raised an eyebrow
"Don't I get a court? Fine! I had a few puffs, it's not even a real drug, it's like marijuana!"
"Marijuana is a drug"
"Please, you are from California! Are you going to tell me you never smoked a joint?"
"Yes!" Buffy stated unequivocally.
"I think I inhaled some once from the air vent connected to the next room," Willow replied unsure.
"And here I thought one of you wasn't a nerd," Samira sniped snidely.
"Hey!" Buffy snapped back which got an immediate look from Willow.
"Hey your 'hey'!" the witch exclaimed full of indignation.
"I'm just saying I'm not a nerd. Not that there's anything wrong with it," Buffy backpedaled,
"Oh, that is so tired!"
"Are you going to fight with each other now?" Stefka interjected calmly.
"She's right!" Willow gave Samira the evil eye, "That sneaky dope fiend got us all turned around!"
"This would not have happened if you implemented the drug testing policy I recommended four months ago," Stefka continued, "All hands mandatory testing every two weeks and random sample testing every two days. We should start today."
"Thank you, miss Grand Inquisitor, I'll take care of it," the Slayer replied impatiently. "There'll be a memo," she said turning to Samira now, "but pass this along to your 'study buddies' as soon as you out the door: you have till eight today to turn all your stashes in to me no questions asked. Tomorrow Willow will be putting up a drug detection field. Anyone sneaking anything into the club will be instantly in deep, deep trouble. As for the party, I suppose I can talk about how all that alcohol and drugs make you stupid long term and very stupid short term. I can talk about how a slayer can get ruthied just like anyone else and with forty bedrooms in the building no way you could keep an eye on everything and everybody. I won't, I'm not your mother. What I am is a Slayer and I'll speak for the good people of Rome who you were supposed to be protecting."
"We did all the patrols," Samira started, but was immediately cut off.
"I bet they were real thorough, too, since nobody wanted to get back to the boring old party, right? And how sober were the teams, exactly? What if they ran into something and needed backup? What if the First attacked? You couldn't even slay a Pokemon in your condition! The worst thing about it, though, is that everyone thinks the party was a success. You are a role model and imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I won't allow it and the only way to do it is to make you the least popular person in the building, so I'm going to take away your TV privileges indefinitely"
"What?" Samira exclaimed in disbelief, "I mean, I grudgingly accept."
"Of course," Buffy continued, "Since all TVs are technically in public areas I'm going to have to shutdown all of them to enforce your punishment. I'm going to make sure to emphasize that point and I'll promise to restore the service as soon as someone figures out a better way to prevent you from cheating. Imagine all these new admirers of yours thinking up different ways of confining and isolating you. Let's see how much your popularity holds by the end of the month. Especially with the girls that were out visiting their families or on the mission with me; they are really going to love you. You are free to go. You, too," she added nodding in Stefka's direction. The tall blonde followed despondent Samira out, but stopped in the doorway.
"I just want to say that the Inquisition was an institution of the Catholic church. I'm Eastern Orthodox"
"Uh-ha," said Buffy giving her chair a twirl, "And they never burned heretics at the stake?"
"Rarely. They were mostly impaled on them," Stefka replied.
Willow followed the girl out with her eyes then turned back to Buffy as the door closed.
"Are we sure she's not on anything?"
"Relax, that's just her being funny," the Slayer smirked.
"Yep, 'funny', that's the word. Speaking of words, here are three more for you: drug, detection, field"
"What about it?"
"For starters, there's no such thing."
"They don't know that," Buffy followed her answer with a chair twirl in the opposite direction.
"Wow, " Willow was honestly impressed, "You are getting really good at this! You know, if you didn't blow up Sunnydale High, that second time, with the rest of the town, you would have made an awesome school principal. Maybe that can be your civilian job! You could hire me as your Computer Science teacher. Or, maybe, a Math teacher? No, a Chemistry teacher!"
"Willow, I'd hire you to teach all of my subjects. Except for shop and P.E."
"Yeah, I was kind of born with four left feet," the redhead giggled, "So this has been fun, but it's not why you called me here, is it?"
"No," Buffy shook her head, "Giles and I wanted to discuss something with you, but obviously he is not here."
"No biggie," Willow shrugged, "Actually there's a spell I've been dying to try ever since I got back from Seoul. Do you mind if I skip into the artifact storage for a bit? How long do you think I have?"
"No idea. Go, experiment, we'll just meet you there."
"Cool!" Willow almost squealed with excitement and ran out the door. Buffy looked at her watch, sighed, then grabbing a volume off the desk laid herself out on the sofa.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"I apologize for my tardiness," Giles spoke the moment he stepped through the office door, "Is Willow here?"
"She's down in the storage room," Buffy replied, getting up, "I figure we go down there instead of calling her up or it'll look like we are punishing her or something"
"Agreed," Giles nodded, "Have you decided what you are going to say?"
"Roughly," she answered grimly, "She's going to hate me"
"You can't worry about that, Buffy. This is about what's good for Willow, not whether she'll like you."
"I know," she sighed, "Just half an hour ago I think I turned half the school against me. It needed to be done, but it still sucks. How did this happen, how did I become everybody's mother?"
"Sometimes it becomes part of the job," the Watcher smiled
"No, my job was to be a mother to just one person and I screwed that up"
"Whatever your failings are, Buffy, what happened to Dawn isn't one of them, though you'll always feel that. That's part of what makes you a good parent. As a matter of fact, " he added, "The reason for my delay is a certain interesting developments on that front."
Buffy stopped and turned in one swinging motion to face Giles who was one step above her on the staircase.
"You could've started with that!"
The Watcher raised his hand slightly in a calming motion.
"This is all very preliminary. Leshii has reached out to me with a proposal to trade our half of the amulet for a collection of artifacts he collected from the other dig sites."
"Seriously?" the Slayer scoffed
"I don't believe so. I don't think he expects us to make this particular trade. The impression I got is that the possession of the amulet has put us in the game and Leshii is trying to establish lines of communication for some sort cooperation in the future."
"Communication with you?" Buffy asked suspiciously.
"He believes your emotional investment in the situation may interfere with your objectivity."
"He can kiss my emotional ass. I want in."
"Actually, my thoughts on the matter was to leverage his concern into involving Dawn as an intermediary" Giles watched Buffy's expression carefully as he spoke and her reaction didn't disappoint. The mixture of frustration and concern has melted away into something almost resembling a smile.
"Yes, I like those thoughts," she shook her index fingers at him excitedly, "Go with the thoughts."
A few more flights and past the metal vault door they arrived in the artifact storage. Soul recognition force field flushed a muted green letting them through the entryway.
"Willow," Buffy called out, "Where are you?"
"Conference area," came an excited reply.
As they entered the clearing past the storage shelves they saw the source of Willow's excitement. Above the coffee table where the amulet was held up by a small silver tripod hovered a giant translucent cube. Tens of thousands, perhaps millions of hieroglyphs of various sizes filled the space, glowing with a slight bluish hue. The witch seemed to be glowing as well with whatever the color of pride was supposed to be.
"What is this?" Giles and Buffy exclaimed in unison.
"That's what's inside the amulet."
"How?" Giles kept switching between Willow and the artifact, "Did you find a replacement half?"
"No," the girl replied, "I just hacked it. It wasn't as hard as you'd think."
"I would think it would be impossible!"
"Like I said, it was a little easier than that," the redhead quipped with a smile.
"I know these," said Buffy who was taking her time to examine the cube. There were actually only three types of symbols put together in groups of three or less. As she moved her hands into a particular area of the magical hologram they would scatter and new groups would appear."
"These are the ancient symbols for earth, water, and fire," said Giles taking a closer look himself.
"No air"
"I think it's safe to assume air is in Leshii's piece of the amulet. The metaphor is clear: put the four basic elements together and whatever is stored inside will reveal itself," said Watcher
"If air it wants, air it will get," Buffy waved her hands around, "It's not like there's a shortage. What do you say, Willow, can you hack it in somehow?"
"Sure thing," the witch snickered, "Just give me a decade or two to brush up on my Elemental magics"
"A bold statement," said Giles pointedly
"I'd say," said Buffy, "You never needed more than a week to catch up on any subject. I'll give you two for this one, tops."
"That's not what he meant," Willow replied.
"Elemental magic is the Loch Ness monster of the Wicca community," Giles expounded, "People claim to have seen it, but there's no conclusive proof it ever existed"
"Until now," corrected Willow
"A bold statement"
"I'll be happy to arbitrate if someone just fills me in," said Buffy trying not to sound too annoyed with the eggheads.
"There's a legend, obviously," Willow smiled, "That the magics taught to mankind at the beginning of civilization were rooted in the secrets of Creation itself. However, to prevent humans from doing something stupid with all that power each person was allowed to master just one of the four elements. Which is pretty insane when you think about it. Imagine being able to part the seas, but not float a pencil. Anyway, the magic based on a single element, in its purest form, is called Elemental magic"
"How can the amulet be the proof when it uses three of them?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.
"I'm getting to that. All the magi would belong to one of the Elemental schools. However, once in a while, the four heads, the arch magi, would come together to create something truly amazing for the benefit of mankind."
"Let me guess, one day they screwed up"
"Everyone does eventually," Willow replied a bit pensively, but quickly bounced back into her cheerful storytelling tone, "They released some kind of force of nature or a demon, depending on what version you hear, which wiped out the civilization as they knew it. The Elemental schools collapsed, survivors scattered across the world, knowledge lost, blah, blah, blah, the usual."
"So basically it's a shameless rip off of the legend of Atlantis," the Slayer scoffed
"There are actually dozens of these myths, Buffy, some date well before Plato," said Giles.
"All the more reason to thinks they are based on an actual event," Willow added, "Like the Middle Eastern flood stories being rooted in the creation of the Black Sea eight thousand years ago3"
"Can we circle back to the amulet, please?" asked Buffy not appreciating the number of tangents they seem to be sprouting.
"I was doing just that when you interrupted me"
"Sorry"
"When I read Dawnie's emails about the language on the artifacts being the composition of bits and pieces of various ancient and modern tongues I thought of the Elemental magics legend. Some people believe in UFO's, this was my thing. The amulet wasn't made of a single element so it had to be a combination job, which gave me an idea. The arch magi may have been unparalleled geniuses in their respective fields, but probably not so proficient in putting the elements together. I found some ancient spells on splitting water and fire from earth in Kim's library; created a fire from water one myself; a little adjustment here and there, and voila!"
"I have to say, Willow," Giles took off his glasses and started slowly wiping the lenses with a handkerchief, "it wasn't so long ago that I considered you passed from simply extraordinary talented into the genius category, but now I have a distinct impression that we'll need to create a wholly new one for you quite soon"
Willow's smile has turned to a full faced grin.
"I'm so happy you've come to visit!"
"You just hold on to that feeling," said Buffy in a way that wiped the smile right off.
"Why? Why did you come?"
"Many reasons," Buffy replied for the Watcher, "Your tests' results for one."
"My test.." Willow started out confused, but caught on in a second. Her eyes narrowed and lower jaw shook in anger, "You had no right! This is private.."
"I don't care!" Buffy's stern voice rang loudly off the walls, but being just short of shout made it even more effective. Physically smallest of the three, she was without a doubt the one in charge of the room, "Three tumors is not 'safe'. I forbid you from using this spell again. I forbid you from using anything like that spell ever again"
"That spell is the only protection we have! I'm not going to just stand there and let everybody die!"
"And what happens when you die, Will? Who is going to protect us then?" Buffy took a step forward forcing Willow to take an automatic step back.
"Three tiny masses removed in an outpatient procedure! It's not a big deal" she tried to stand her ground in the argument at least.
"Repeated exposure increases your risks geometrically. What happens if they miss one? If it develops somewhere where it's inoperable?"
"Then I'll remove it myself. I'm a super genius, remember?"
"Manipulating cells is not moving mountains, Willow" Giles entered the fray, "It's not about power. The level of control required is immense. If you are off by even one micron…"
"I'll liquefy my innards," the witch interrupted impatiently, "I know what I'm doing!"
"Then you are aware that you are using this self-mutilation and needless risk-taking to atone for what happened in Peru. I thought it was more subconscious, but I apparently I'm wrong," he shrugged putting his glasses back on.
"What?" the redhead exclaimed exasperated at the look in Buffy's eyes. "You are going to trust his judgment? Because he did such a good job with Dawn?"
"I want to trust your judgment, Will. Please, help me do that."
"Just leave me alone!" Bursting into tears Willow ran past Buffy out of the basement.
"That went well," Buffy sighed plunking herself into the nearest chair.
"I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help," said Giles taking the seat across, "It's getting to be a pattern."
"Don't you dare start!" Buffy shouted angrily, "I cannot handle another breakdown!"
"Just stating the obvious. You so rarely ask for my help these days and I can't seem to come through."
"I'm not stupid, Giles," Buffy leaned looking upwards at his lens covered eyes, "I know things have changed. I've grown as a person, as a Slayer. I'm able to solve my own problems and the ones I can't, the ones I give to you, usually border on unsolvable and that's just not fair. I'm totally ruining your batting average. It's not your fault; you are as good as ever, better even…"
"Just not good enough to keep up with your needs," Giles finished for her. "I am indeed pushing fifty; there's not a lot of untapped potential left. Still, what I lack at my advanced age in ability I compensate with the wisdom to delegate. I have been looking into attaching full-time therapists to each office. They would combine specialization in adolescents and post traumatic stress with thorough training in Slayer lore. Doctor Benjamin Friedman is only a few days away from completing his courses. I will assign him to Rome."
"That's great, Giles"
"I can provide you with a doctor, Buffy, but I cannot make Willow see him"
"Oh, she'll be there. She'll be there if I have to drag her by her hair!" She pronounced and paused. "I didn't mean for this to rhyme," she said almost apologetically.
"It'll be our secret," the Watcher smiled.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Dawn stood still for a second trying to get her bearings. She was in a small room. It felt familiar, but the heavy haze left her unable to see more than two feet in front of her. Somewhere far away a melody was playing, growing louder. 'Sweet dreams'. Another nightmare? What is it going to show her now? She felt herself moving forward, her hand grasping the doorknob. No, no more bodies. She tried pulling away, but the fingers wouldn't let go the handle. She felt her hand moving against her will, trying to open the door. Dawn ground her teeth struggling for control of her limbs until finally tearing her hand away with such force that she lost her balance, falling onto all fours. The fog seemed to dissipate and Dawn realized she was in front of her bedroom door. She struggled back to her feet when she noticed the red laces running down her thigh. This was not her lingerie. She gasped in panic throwing a running gaze around her room when she noticed Zemfira sitting on the floor across from her. In front of the little vampire six lighted candles formed a circle around some kind of symbol drawn on the plastic covering the boards. The surprise in the witch's eyes perfectly mirrored Dawn's.
"What the hell was that?" she addressed the frightened teen. "I've never seen anything like it! I have to admit, I have underestimated our friend Willow. That is one wicked protection spell!"
"What? What happened?" Dawn babbled confused. Her head felt heavy and bloated.
"You tell me," Zemfira countered getting off the floor, "One minute I have it, the next: poof! It's like your consciousness is a reflection: try to grasp it and all you get is ripples. I never figured Willow capable of this kind of finesse. Any idea where she dug up a mind barrier like that?"
"You were in my head," Dawn's confusion was slowly turning to anger, "Why? Where were you taking me?" The answer came to her like a bolt of lightening. "The lingerie…You were taking me to Leshii! Those women you brought him, they were you!"
"Not all the time," Zemfira smiled slightly angling her head as she looked up at the furious girl, "It's a game we play. He thinks he knows me so well, so I test him. Can he tell when it's me and when it's not? This one time I brought him two girls and they were both me! That totally messed him up!"
"You stay away from my head, you demented freak!" The full realization of the depth of the violation she almost fell victim to shook Dawn to the core. Her high pitched shriek was not an idle outcry, it was a threat, and she meant it. Zemfira felt it as well. The smile disappeared from her face; her eyes narrowed as she slanted her head the other way.
"How do you think I got into your bedroom, Dawn?" she hissed through her teeth, "Do you remember inviting me in? I was asked to be nice, I was asked to share, and I shared, but don't think for a second that anything here is yours. This is my house, my man!" Zemfira's face vamped and Dawn stepped back instinctively.
"That's right, " the vampire growled, advancing as Dawn retreated, "I will do what I want, when I want to. Whatever this spell is in your head, I'll get through and we'll have some fun. I can make it fun for you, Dawn, if I want to. Just don't forget who's in charge here."
"Leshii's in charge," the girl answered grimly, but Zemfira just laughed.
"Are you going to tell daddy on me? Go ahead, see if he gives a fuck." Still laughing the witch picked up her candles and disappeared out the door.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It was a good plan. She hasn't been with Leshii since the torture session. A little physical reconnect first, then work Zemfira issue into the conversation. Dawn slowed down and leaned in.
"Hey! Are you planning on moving anytime today? If I wanted to make it with a corpse, I…have no good way of finishing this sentence." She rolled off his lap and nudged him with her elbow. "What's going on? What are you so engrossed in?"
"I was thinking that maybe I should kill you," Leshii answered in a matter of fact tone.
Dawn sat up barely containing a smile. "Alright, that's certainly an interesting topic. Why would you kill me?"
"No reason"
"'No reason'!" she mocked him bursting into laughter. "That's hilarious! And you claim you don't have a sense of humor!"
"I have no reason to kill you," Leshii continued paying no heed to her reaction, "As a matter of fact I have every reason to keep you alive. Except that's how It works, doesn't It?" He sat up himself now, peering into the laughing face of the girl. Reaching out with his hand he grasped Dawn by the throat.
"What are you doing?" she asked still smiling.
"What if I do something completely unexpected?" Dawn felt his grip tightening, she couldn't breathe. She grabbed at his fingers, but he was too strong.
"It may scramble Its plans," Leshii continued in the same hollow monotone, squeezing her throat ever tighter. "Start everything over. I may buy her more time. That's the safest way, don't you thinks so?"
Dawn was thrashing now, kicking him in the ribs as hard as she could. Her nails sunk into the flesh of his arm drawing trickles of blood to no avail. She felt her consciousness drift into the black fog of oblivion when suddenly he let go. She stayed on the bed for a few seconds coughing and wheezing and as the feeling in her limbs came back so did the blinding fear. She darted out the door naked and barefoot half tripping on the uneven floor boards. She ran down the corridor and turning ran right into Yozh knocking them both to the ground.
"Holly fuck!" all he could say staring at the fallen girl next to him.
Jumping back to her feet she pushed him aside and dashed towards her room leaving the fat man staring in that direction for a good minute.
"Damn!" he kept shaking his head. "I knew I should have splurged on that camera phone!"
Dawn burst into her bedroom, losing her balance in the process. Falling down she managed to slam the door behind her then scattered on all fours into the far corner of the room, in between the bed and the window. Realizing she was still naked she pulled the top sheet off the bed covering herself then reached over into the top drawer of the nightstand and pulled out her gun, pointing it at the door. It didn't work. Her hand was shaking so badly she dropped her weapon and did so again trying to pick it up. Letting go of the blanket she reached into the lower drawer and grabbed a half empty bottle of brandy. Pulling out the cork with her teeth she took a few gulps to steady herself. She grabbed the handle of the gun with some authority now and was able to hold it in place. Her hands were still shaking, but in a more controllable fashion. Dawn took a deep breath then another big gulp.
"Well, aren't you a pretty picture."
Dawn looked up to see the image of Joyce watching her nude daughter sitting on the floor with a bottle of liquor in one hand and a loaded gun in the other.
"What did you expect was going to happen?" she continued sternly. "That you were going to bring the nice boy home for dinner?"
"Leave me alone," the girl whispered taking another, smaller sip.
"Leave you alone with that monster? What kind of mother do you take me for?"
"The fake kind"
"I'm happy you are together enough to take a jibe at me. Now, how about you get dressed and get out of here?"
Dawn removed the bottle from her lips and set it down next to her on the floor.
"So is that why you are here?" she smirked. "It won't work, I'm not going anywhere."
"You think this gun is going to protect you?" the ghostly image now crouched in front of Dawn staring at her with concerned mother's eyes. "He doesn't have to strangle you; he's been killing you every day, piece by piece. Look at you; look at what he's done to my little girl!"
"There never was a little girl! She was a fake! A piece of fiction made up by some boneheads in a monastery!"
"She was real to me"
That gentle whisper only amplified Dawn's rage.
"That's rich! There's nothing real about you! The fact that I'm so different from the fake memories you have is exactly the proof that this is the real me! You think you can manipulate me into doing what you want, but you can't. I'm here because I chose to come here, because I choose to stay here. These are not fake memories written by someone else. I am what I made myself to be."
"Are you sure about that?"
Dawn simply shut her eyes and when she opened them the vision of her mother was gone. She got up, put the gun on the bed, and opened the dresser. She put on a t-shirt and underpants then grabbed the rest of the clothes and laid them out in a nice tubular shape on the bed. She grabbed the sheet off the floor and covered the clothes pile. Stepping over to the side facing the door she made sure it overhung all the way to the floor. She walked back, grabbed the leftover sweater and crawled under the bed. Folding it into a nice little pillow she put the gun under it and closed her eyes.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The morning came unexpectedly quickly. Dawn was surprised that after everything that happened she actually managed to fall asleep. Must be the brandy. She crawled out of her hiding place and looked at the clock. Sixteen past eight. There was still some water left in her little plastic tub so she could wash up without leaving her room. Much calmer though she was, she didn't feel like strolling the halls needlessly. She sat dressed on the bed for a good fifteen minutes before psyching herself enough for a trip downstairs.
The mess hall was full. Everyone was enjoying their breakfast. Leshii was spooning his oatmeal, Zemfira had some sort of blood cereal in front of her, while Yozh was devouring his usual four egg omelet. Given what happen this everyday arrangement seemed so unbelievably bizarre that Dawn just stood there waiting for some kind of a reaction to her presence.
"Good morning," Zemfira greeted her cheerfully, "And how was your night? Same old, same old?" she smiled coyly and glanced over at Yozh who proceeded to choke on his eggs.
"Not at all," Dawn replied as calmly as she could, "The First visited me again last night."
The smile has vanished from Zemfira's face as she looked over at Leshii who put his spoon down and turned to Dawn.
"It came as my mother, telling me I'm in danger; telling me to leave," she went on.
Leshii turned back to Zemfira whose eyes grew wide with fear as he stared her down.
"Did I not tell you to fix this?"
"The bitch is lying! She's setting me up!"
"I can tell when she's lying. She is not lying."
"So you think I am?"
"I can only hope. I can fix disobedience, but not incompetence," Dawn recognized the slight intonation in his dead calm voice, it was there last night. Zemfira has apparently heard it before as well and as Leshii rose from his chair she seemed to shrink into hers. "I thought saving a witch of your unique talents," he continued, "Was worth the weeks confined to these moldy ruins, but it appears I have miscalculated."
"It's her!" Zemfira screamed desperately, realizing things have gone terribly wrong, "Maybe something was planted in her head! There are magic traces all over her mind! If I just.."
"Of course there are! She grew up in house full of witches and Slayers. I told you to scan her before she joined and you said there's no trace of Necromancers or the First. Were you lying then or are you lying now?"
There was complete silence. All conversations in the mess hall stopped and the gang fixed their attention on the fight at the main table.
"Look at her!" the witch thrust her little finger in Dawn's direction tears streaming down her cheeks as her tiny body shook with anger and fear, "She's hiding something, I'm telling you! Just give me a few hours with her and you'll know everything!"
"You stay from her," Leshii voice went suddenly low, "That's an order. You are confined to your quarters until you find and fix the breach in the containment spell. Right now, Zemfira."
The witch slowly pushed off her chair with a loud screeching sound as the metal legs scraped against the stone floor. Throwing Dawn one final glare she jumped off and run out. Leshii followed. The men returned to their meals except for Yozh whose plate was already empty. The fat man stood up and motioned Dawn over.
"The boss will be leaving on a reconnaissance mission in an hour," he said wiping his mouth with his hand, "If I were you, I'd decorate my room with plenty of crosses"
Dawn didn't linger. Grabbing a couple of hard boiled eggs and a yogurt she went to the library for her daily session with McClure.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Though the Englishman was doing his best to use her insights while keeping her on the periphery of the actually useful information Dawn managed to decipher quite a bit in the last two weeks. For one, what the First was seeking was anti-demon weapon created by some ancient wizards. There were four parts to the device and these were scattered among the temples of the order. The number of sites the First ransacked, however, was greater. Perhaps It didn't know the actual locations. Strange indeed given that the memories of the dead wizards would be at the Creature's disposal. Transcribing all this information into British comedy jargon for her weekly letter to Buffy took Dawn the rest of the night. She was going over the draft for the third time when the door opened letting Zemfira inside. Instinctively Dawn jumped out of her chair and backed away. The door slowly closed behind the vampire, either of its own volition or nudged a bit telekinetically.
"Hey," Dawn did her best to sound cheerful and relaxed, "How's it going? Do you need any help? I'm not an expert, obviously, but if you think there's something I can do…"
"I'm not going back," Zemfira said grimly, seemingly too tired to raise her voice much above a whisper, "you can't make me. Not you!" Her face turned and she lunged at the hated girl before her. Dawn was prepared. Eight years sharing a bedroom wall with the Slayer were worth a lot. She shifted her body and with slight nudge of her hands let the vampire's momentum carry her past and crash into the wall. As Zemfira fell Dawn dashed for the exit, but not fast enough.
"Adhaesi!" the witch hissed and the girl was thrown face first against the door, every part of her spread out body stuck to the wood. Dawn couldn't see her, but she felt the vampire walking up behind her. Small fingers brushed against her neck.
"Zemfira, just don't do anything stupid," she didn't know what she could say, but if she kept talking she might stumble on something convincing, "I'm not trying to get rid of you. We can work together on this one.."
"Shut it," the vampire growled and Dawn felt her lips being pulled together as if tied with a rubber band. The fingers on the back of her neck slowly traveled out front, nails scrapping ever so slightly against her throat, "I won't crawl the sewers for another eighty years feeding on rats. I'd rather he kills me!" The nails ripped through Dawn's cheek throwing her to the floor at the same time. Holding the left side of her bloodied face she sat at the open door listening to the putter-patter of the witch's little feet as she ran through the hall and down the stairs.
For the second night under the bed Dawn's gun was joined by a freshly made stake. The alarm, comprised of a few crosses painted on the plastic floor cover, didn't do much to help her sleep, much less the constant burning of her slashed cheek. As the sun hit her window she got up to face her day on that one and a half hour of disjointed nap time she was able to scrounge. The water she brought in last evening was all bloody from cleaning the wound which meant another trip to the water station down the hall.
"Dawn," Leshii called out from behind. Figures he'll be one she'd run into at five in the morning.
"Good morning, to you, too," Dawn answered trying slip back into her room, but Leshii stopped her by putting a hand on her shoulder.
"You are injured"
This was almost too easy. Just say what happened and she probably will never have to worry about Zemfira again.
"It's nothing," she replied surprising herself, "How was your mission? Got the list of covens narrowed down yet?"
Her attempt at changing the subject went nowhere. Leshii turned the girl around and tilted her face for a better look at the bandage work. With both of her hands holding a tub of water there was nothing she could do stop him.
"It's no big deal," Dawn continued to cover, "Just cut myself. Shaving" What?! "Extensive facial hair. It's kind of embarrassing, so I do my best to hide it." Oh, my God, just stop talking! But the words kept pouring out of her mouth paying no heed to screaming in her head. "I wax, naturally, but I've kind of run out so had to resort to a razor. I'm not good with razors. They say a bit of growth means the girl is passionate," she added meekly.
Without answering Leshii simply ripped off the bandages revealing three deep parallel slashes. Dawn could feel his breathing speed up just a tad.
"Get inside and stay there until I get you," he said nudging her into her room.
"It's nothing, really. She was just blowing off a little steam, it's no big deal," she rattled out, quickly placing the tub on the dresser and rushing back out, but the door was closed in front of her, the lock clicked. Dawn kept pulling on the handle in disbelief. The door had no deadbolt on the inside and since she was never given a key she assumed the key hole was purely ornamental; she was wrong again.
Leshii's steps echoed measurably in the dungeon as he descended the stone steps. Zemfira could hear him coming from the moment he opened the door, no doubt. Still she sat unmoving with her back turned, staring into a large brass mirror in front of her, until a reflection finally filled the blankness.
"New set?" she inquired quietly.
"I put it together some time ago," Leshii answered setting his briefcase on a wooden table nearby, "I was looking forward to an opportunity to see how much I've learned. It was a mistake of you to test me in this way," he added flipping open the cover. The implements glimmered in the torchlight. Leshii took out a gag ball with lever straps and walked up to the witch.
"You won't need it. I won't scream," she spoke even quieter.
"Yes, this time you will"
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
For the last three hours Dawn was trying to pick the lock with various combinations of pins, a knife, and a nail filer without success. Her enthusiasm waned some time ago, but she kept at it out of sheer stubbornness.
"Not as easy as they make it look in the pictures, is it?"
Dawn turned to see Spike sitting on her bed. The blonde vampire was wearing his usual leather duster and a sneer.
"Not all of us have a thousand lifetimes worth of lock picking experience," Dawn parried, continuing her struggles.
"I wouldn't say a thousand, but I took care of more than a few of these buggers in my day."
"Right, still with the role-playing," Dawn smirked, "Poor choice though. Spike was a lousy lock picker."
"Is that so?"
"Buffy's twentieth birthday, remember? We snuck to break into the Magic Box. Took him forever to get the door open."
"I'm not surprised you remember. That was some night. You thought they were keeping secrets from you and you got your hands on Giles' diary. You were lousy at cursive so I got to be the one to tell you how your entire life was one giant illusion. That's a lot for a fourteen year old to take."
"I recovered," Dawn was starting to get angry.
"Perhaps, but you didn't forget. Every minute of that night has been seared into your brain."
"That's right, including Spike's lousy lock-picking"
The vampire smirked.
"After so many break-ins Giles didn't skimp on quality. It was a tricky lock and I picked it in seven minutes; and you watched me every second of it."
Dawn paused. She took everything out of the keyhole, then placed a knife blade inside, then a nail filer. She put both of the pins together and jiggled the upper area of the hole. A click followed.
"Son of the bitch!" Dawn turned around, but the room was empty. Why would the First want her to get out? It didn't matter now. Dawn ran through the labyrinth of castle corridors and stairwells as fast as she could. Zemfira's room was empty. There was blood all over the floor, but whether it was hers or her victims' was impossible to tell. Leshii's room upstairs was empty as well. Thoroughly exhausted from sprinting up and down the stairs Dawn finally staggered into the mess hall hoping to run into someone with information. Judging from the hateful looks directed at her they appeared to be well informed indeed.
"Well I'm looking at it and I'm not getting it," Bones spoke as he stared the girl down, "Must be the pussy cause it's sure not the face."
"Simmer down," Yozh tried to run interference.
"Or what? I'll be next? That's fucked! I shot my bitch between the eyes when I had to choose and now one of us gets the shaft because of his?" The grumbling of rest of the table seemed to concur with Bones' position.
"Hey, the man is a man, like any other man," Yozh raised his voice slightly trying to take reigns of the suddenly unruly team, "Pussy fever happens to the best of us. It's temporary and it's not his fault."
"No, it is my fault," they all turned to see Leshii. He must have slipped in unnoticed through the back entrance, "I have allowed this to happen," he continued walking up to the suddenly mute men, "It's a long, hard mission. 'So what if they talk?' I thought, 'they are just blowing off steam.' And then the stupid shit starts. They go on benders, they start grabbing whores off the streets. 'It's okay,' I thought, 'They are veterans, they get the job done, they know where the line is' Except they don't and the next thing I know my direct order is disobeyed. Zemfira lives. She lives because it is my fault for allowing this feeling of permissiveness to fester. She thought she could get away with it. It was logical for her to think that, the way I let things be, and I don't punish logic. Instead I educated her. When she recovers she will be a new, better person. Her 're-birth' shall be the symbol of the re-birth of discipline and professionalism that made this organization so great. Qualities I will enforce now at every opportunity. There will be no more talking shit behind my back," as he spoke his hand darted towards Bones, grabbing his lips for a mere second and letting go. The gangster made a loud, guttural sound, grubbing hold of his mouth with both hands as blood poured out. Leshii took no notice and stepped in front of Dawn, "And when I tell you to stay in your room, you stay in your fucking room!" She barely saw his fist as it flew into her face, knocking her head against the wall. As Dawn collapsed face first on the floor Leshii stepped over her unconscious body and disappeared out the door.
"Is she dead?" inquired a gray haired gangster inexplicably nicknamed Bob.
"She's not moving," Yozh replied looking over at the girl.
"So much for the power of pussy," said Bob and downed a shot of vodka
"Like I told you, never underestimate that man," said Yozh and took a shot of his own.
"He almost cut my lips off," mumbled Bones spitting blood into his coffee cup.
"Serves you right," Bob replied grimly.
"Well it may serve him right, but what about poor Rooster over there?" Yozh pointed to the youngest man in the corner, "He'd have to find someone else to suck his cock and he didn't do nothing!"
The gang broke into laughter, but quickly stopped at the strange bubbling noise coming from the floor. They stood up and looked over at Dawn. She has managed to turn herself over. Blood was gushing from her smashed nose and into her mouth. She was oddly shaking and coughing and it took Yozh a few seconds to realize that what she was doing was laughing.
"You, crazy bitch," Yozh cackled himself shaking his head. He sat down next to the girl and carefully examined her injures. "You are way fucked up, girl. Let's get you to the doctor." He carefully picked her up making sure her head held steady against his shoulder and walked out.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Tick-Tack. Before he left her bedroom, Dawn asked Yozh to move the clock from the nightstand to the dresser so she could see it without moving her head. Watching the hands move round and round gave her something to do. The pain and the painkillers have combined to create a strange fog in her head that rendered her unable to form any coherent thoughts. If she was to stay awake she needed some kind of external stimulation. Any kind except for Leshii in her doorway would do.
"How severe are your injuries?"
"Broken nose, fractured cheekbone, orbital bone, slight concussion," Dawn run down the already composed list, "You should be proud, that's as much damage as anyone could do with a single punch."
"I could have killed you if I wanted to."
The tread marks from Zemfira's claws made any smile related expression extremely painful, but she couldn't help the smirk.
"You're right, I'm sorry. It was very nice of you not to."
"It was for your own good. You heard them. You are indeed valuable to me, Dawn, and I would hate to loose you because someone may overestimate that value."
The fury stoked by his usual measured lecturing was burning up the fog in her head.
"I saw what you did to Zemfira. At least I think it was Zemfira, it was really hard to tell. Was that for her own good, too?"
"Yes. The damage from her jealousy was beginning to surpass her usefulness. If I didn't have a way of correcting her behavior I would have had to destroy her."
"So what you were actually doing was saving her life?"
"That's right"
The pain shot and radiated through her body with every chuckle, but Dawn just kept laughing.
"I didn't think I was being funny."
"You're not," the girl answered, her tone suddenly grim. "You're being scary. You are the scariest thing I've seen in my entire life and that says a lot. You seem to have such a good grasp on how other people will react, so have you ever considered that one day Stefka just might kill herself rather than continue being your excuse to inflict death and torture on the world around her?"
"What I wanted to tell you," Leshii said after a slight pause, "is that Zemfira is weak and her protection spell, however effective it was, will cease to function completely soon. Watch who you talk to and what you say."
The door closed and Dawn was alone once again, but only for a second. A vision of Buffy grinning ear to ear was lying next to her now.
"Talk about a lethal body blow!" she exclaimed excitedly, "You certainly handed him his balls on a platter. You were always such a good judge of character, so good at reading people, their thoughts, their moods. Just so you can hit right where it hurts when they least expect it. How could anybody not be proud of such a sister? How could you not love her?"
"Don't pay any attention to It, Dawn" came a voice from the other side of the bed. Standing over her was Tara. "What does It know?" she spoke softly staring at the girl lovingly, "What could it possibly know of feelings It never had? All those memories…What's a picture of a smile to a person who never laughed? It's just an illusion, Dawn, and It's insights, It's 'all knowing' is no less an illusion than Its form."
"Okay, " Dawn responded slowly, taking everything in, "This is definitely new. There's definitely a lot of thought and effort being put into this. Unfortunately after the concussion, the vicodin, and the caffeine it's all pretty much a big waste. I'm not objecting, this is just a disclaimer I feel I owe given the high production values. Actually, since I am not allowed to fall asleep I would sincerely appreciate if you keep talking, even if I don't answer. Would you? I'll owe you a solid," she suddenly burst into loud drunken laughter, "Get it? 'Solid'?" she poked the ethereal Buffy next to her who looked extremely annoyed now, "Sorry. So you were saying something about...something?"
She played it perfectly. Leshii saw her pour her drinks out at the club that other time, but it's doubtful the First knows what drugs she took and certainly not how they affect her. That Buffy illusion was created by the Creature she had no doubt, but what about Tara? Was she, too, part of the act? She and the other visitors she had in the last few months had a very different vibe to them. Is it only a trick? What if Zemfira was right all along, what if her spell held up just fine until Leshii tortured her into oblivion? They all laughed at Dasha's joke about distinguishing the First from real ghosts, but now it couldn't be more pertinent. Then again it could be something much simpler. The same tumor that killed her mother is now compressing a bunch of neurons in her brain. Or it could be she has just gone insane without the dying part. Wouldn't that be a relief? She smirked to herself and drifted, just barely keeping on the side of consciousness.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
They tumbled out of the kitchen and into the living room never breaking the kiss. Narrowly avoiding tripping on the coffee table they were about to collapse onto their target when Buffy pulled out at the last moment.
"No, not the chair," she gasped catching her breath.
"I like the chair," Mortimer countered, "We haven't done it on this chair yet."
"We can't, Willow loves the comfy chair"
"Then the chair shall remain faithful to its beloved. The couch again?"
"Yes, the slutty couch," Buffy quipped dipping in for another long kiss. They fell onto the aforementioned furniture piece and writhed out of their clothes.
"Wait, what was that?" Buffy stopped abruptly.
"Uhm…That's my penis. I believe you've met."
"No, I think someone just opened and closed the front door"
"Probably Willow checking in on her comfy chair"
"Willow is still in sulking mode. She only comes home when I'm out or asleep."
"Well, there you go," Mortimer tried to pull his lover back in, "She saw you were still in and left."
"Willow doesn't need to see, she always knows where I am," Buffy countered grabbing her top off the other end of the couch. When she bend down to grab her jeans, the Immortal leaned over and playfully bit her bare cheek.
"No biting off my butt, there's not much there to begin with," she giggled and rushed out not bothering with the shoes. There was definitely someone running down the stairs. She could hear the heels clanking against the stone steps about a floor down. Jumping into the stairwell she flew down almost two stories before grabbing the rails and pulling herself onto the staircase just ahead of her target.
"I didn't see anything I swear!" Andrew squealed as Buffy suddenly appeared in front of him.
"Yeah, right," she scoffed in a deliberately menacing way, "What are you doing here, Andrew?"
"Mr. Giles located a few rare texts for Mr. Parreli's research. He wanted me to courier"
"No, what are you doing at my apartment and with my keys?"
"Willow gave them to me. I asked if I could crash at your place and she said 'yes'"
"Why can't you stay at the dorms? Did the girls throw you out for peeping?"
"It wasn't on purpose! And I don't like the dorms. They keep pulling pranks on me. Last time they put toothpaste on my face when I slept and put my hand in warm water. I wish I could graduate sooner, be an actual Watcher"
"You think it will change anything?"
"They don't do these things to Mr. Parreli"
"Parreli is seventy five, they don't need to put his hand in warm water," she smirked then sighed and turned the boy around by the shoulder, "Fine, let's go upstairs."
Inside Mortimer, already dressed, was finishing up the bow on his right shoe.
"I take it we are moving the party elsewhere." He stated as they entered, "Andrew"
"Mortimer," the teen returned the greeting with a slight nod.
"It's getting to be dinner time anyway," Buffy shrugged, "Nothing fancy, though. Someplace small, with good pesto. Then we can go to that club with green lamps. I feel like green for some reason"
"It's spring," said Mortimer getting Buffy's purse from the kitchen.
"It's middle of May," she replied not quite intelligibly as she applied her lipstick at the dress mirror next to the door. "Shouldn't I be all springed out by now?"
"You have a spring type personality. I think it's wonderful"
"You turn everything I say into a compliment. It's getting old," Buffy's jab was clearly insincere. In fact this was her favorite quality in her boyfriend and she didn't think she would ever tire of it. The smile on her face said as much.
"There are spare sheets and pillows in the closet in Willow's room and food in the fridge," Buffy shouted last minute instructions from the doorway, "But don't touch the gelato!"
As door shut behind the fluttering couple Andrew plunked himself on the couch, putting his boots up on the coffee table. With the most satisfied smile he took out his cell and texted: "In position. Coast is clear"
"And with two hours to spare, " he added out loud, "Agent Wells you are indeed a marvel of efficiency and wit"
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Buffy was never the type to simply follow someone's lead without question, yet she has found herself doing just that with Mortimer more times than she could count. Only a few short minutes ago she let herself be whisked away through the rear entrance of the club without so much as a word of explanation. Not until they were almost a block down the alley did she finally let her curiosity run.
"So who were they?"
"What do you mean?" Mortimer took a weak shot at deflection.
"The big scuffle at the counter. Please, don't tell me it had nothing to do with the sudden getaway"
"You are right, there were some people there I didn't want to deal with right now."
"Wow," Buffy was slightly taken aback by the intonation in his voice, "You are actually concerned. What did they want?"
"Something that isn't theirs. It could have gotten ugly."
"Demons?"
"Vampires, actually. What?"
"Hello?" Buffy demonstratively waved her hands in front of his face, "Vampire Slayer, here! "
"It's your night off, I didn't want you bothered."
"How thoughtful. Except now they are going to go back to their vampire buddies and tell all about how they chased away a Slayer. You're totally ruining my European street cred! Come on, names, descriptions, residences."
"You really don't need to do this for me," Mortimer said as convincingly as he could.
"I want to. You do stuff for me all the time and I don't do anything nice for you"
"Oh, yes, you do"
"I mean normal stuff," she nudged him playfully in the shoulder, "Relationship stuff. You don't let me cook for you, at least let me slay for you. Come on, it will make us both feel better."
"My, you are worried about me, aren't you? Why?"
"What do you mean 'why'? You're my boyfriend, I care about you"
"'Care'", Mortimer repeated smiling, "That's more than 'like'"
"So it is," Buffy agreed quietly.
"Good. But you don't have to worry about me. You never have to worry about me, that's one of the big selling points of this relationship."
"So I'm a worrier. I'm a worrier warrior," she punned happily, "But not for no reason. You can't be killed, fine. There's other stuff. They can capture and torture you for, like, ever."
"Not really. If there's no way out I can just kill myself with a thought"
"Dying from thinking," she reiterated, "And I thought Xander was paranoid. What if you're unconscious?"
"Never. Even if I can't see or feel, I'm still aware."
It almost felt like a challenge.
"What if you don't know you've been captured?" she tried composing some more scenarios, "They can cast some kind of spell on you to think you're someplace else"
"My consciousness is so tied to this reality that I can't escape it even through magic," Mortimer replied rather wistfully, "I can always tell what's real and what isn't. For example, I can tell there's been a reality shifting spell cast on you." Buffy didn't say anything but the look in her eyes was more than enough. "It's like a shadow," he continued, "Like there's another Buffy right behind you. I've seen it on your friend Willow, too, and that British teacher of yours, Rupert Giles, is it?"
"What about Dawn?" Buffy finally spoke, "What do you see on her?"
"Nothing. I can hardly see her at all. It's like looking at a sun. Blinding green light. She's the source of these shadows, isn't she?"
There was answer.
"It's alright. I haven't told anybody, and I won't. I won't ask anymore either. You'll tell me if you want to."
They walked on in silence, Buffy getting increasingly anxious.
"I'm sorry if I upset you, I won't broach this subject again, I promise," Mortimer squeezed her hand in a sign of reassurance, but she just blinked at him.
"If I seem upset it is because I've been trying to find a place to pee for the last forty minutes. Can we please get to a street with some life on it?"
"Actually, there's a small pub three buildings down that should still be open," the Immortal smiled and handed her a fistful of coins, "You'll need to order something though. I'll wait for you outside"
As soon as Buffy disappeared into the alley dive Mortimer whipped out his cell phone.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" he yelled as soon the other end was picked up. "You send both of her ex's to get me now?... Bullshit! I know for a fact that Angel doesn't get any intel you don't approve of! …Or so you thought you break it first?... You just hold your end and I'll worry about holding mine!...No, I'll take care of them myself, but if you get in the way or if you pull another stunt like this, I'll show you what really happens when I decide to break a bargain!" Mortimer slammed the flip shut, took a few deep breaths, and dialed again.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The knocking has woken her up even before Yozh's rowdy voice.
"Wake up, girl! You need to wake up right now!"
"Get lost," Dawn grumbled turning her back to the door,
"Wake up!" she felt his giant hand jerk her shoulder.
"Yes, wise guy, smart move; shake the girl recovering from a concussion," she muttered feeling the revolver under her pillow,
"You have five minutes to wash up and get dressed. We are taking off on a mission immediately. Bring your gun and ammo."
Yozh walked out into the corridor and closed the door to let her change. Dawn turned onto her back and opened her eyes for good. Gun and ammo at four in the morning. Must be another eventful day coming.
The jeep took them to a makeshift runway near the castle. The gang spent the last three days getting it ready and the jet was there, revving up the engines. They took off as soon as Dawn and Yozh got in. Leshii was already there along with seven other men. The booths they had on the way to Peru were gone. The entire cabin was gutted. The gang crowded around Leshii who was looking over some blueprints. There were heavy guns piled around, several rocket launchers, and dozens of gas canisters.
"Come here," Leshii called out apparently addressing Dawn as the circle parted to let her through, "Our coven is located in a small town outside of Bath. Do you know anything about it?"
"Westbury?"
"That's right"
"It's where Willow had her rehab."
"And?"
"It's where Willow had her rehab," Dawn repeated louder, "These are powerful witches. You don't want to mess with them."
"I don't want to mess with them. I just want to kill them. Have you been inside their compound?"
"You don't get it, do you?" Dawn's frustration was reflecting more than four hours of sleep,
"You can't fight them with your guns! Even if you catch them by surprise you won't get them all and your magic immunity won't be worth much with a mountain being hurled at you! Let me call Buffy. If she tells them to back down, they'll listen. They practically work for the Council"
"My point exactly"
"Bad point! They are not hunting Zemfira on Buffy's orders. If you just…"
"You don't know it," Leshii cut her off, "You are assuming they are not following her orders. You are assuming she has the authority to make them stop. We have no way of finding out the full set of artifacts Austin retrieved from the grave. They can simply hand over Zemfira's personal affects to some other coven we don't know about and we'll be worse off than we are now."
"Well, if you didn't let Zemfira turn him into a drool machine you'd have that list!"
"I seriously doubt he would remember the exact number of beads in a necklace, but you are correct about one thing, at least. Direct assault on the compound is suicide. Long range surveillance indicate the witches conduct their sessions in the basement. Even if it isn't protected by force fields, according to the blueprints it's too deep to destroy with the explosives we have."
"Wouldn't a 'simple tactical nuclear device take care of the whole thing'?" Dawn mocked him.
Leshii gave her a short stare then pulled on a chord stretching across the cabin, retrieving the speaker phone attached to the other end.
"Put Zemfira on," he told the whoever picked up the line.
"What is it?" the girl's voice was meek and sickly.
"I recall you mentioning the attacks come at regular intervals. How often?"
"It used to be once a day," the witch replied, "But it's three times now. I think they sense my weakness. The anomaly still lets me evade them, but I can't keep this up forever"
"How long can you hold out if you engage?"
"Are you crazy?" Zemfira sounded frightened out of her wits, "I don't stand a chance; they'll slaughter me!"
"I know. How long can you hold out before they do?"
"It doesn't matter! It's a death spiral spell, once you are engaged you can't stop it until one side is dead, which means me!"
"I know, " Leshii repeated deliberately calm to compensate for the panic on the phone, "I need the witches occupied. How long can you hold out?"
There was no answer.
"Zemfira, listen to me. I will save your life, I promise. You have to trust me to keep my word. You saw what happened to you when you didn't trust my word? Trust me now."
"I could go seven or eight minutes when I was healthy," the witch finally answered. The vibrations of the speaker heightening the shaking of her voice, "I doubt I could do more than three now."
"Martin, are you there?"
"What can I do for you?" the Brit replied in his usual polite way that radiated smugness.
"I want you to link with Zemfira and help her during the engagement."
"Pardon?" the casualness with which he was just ordered to his death took him completely by surprise, but McClure recovered quickly, "I'm always happy to help, but someone like me will be, but a blip in this battle of titans, not even worth this conversation."
"I need an extra thirty second margin. Your abilities are sufficient to provide that in my opinion. You have your orders"
"With all due respect, sir, my inclusion in this plan does not seem to justify the risks. I am rooting with all my heart for Zemfira's liberation and happy to do anything else to help, but putting all your eggs in one basket…"
"Martin," Leshii tersely put an end to his rant, "You are a very intelligent man and you always have a backup plan. I'm sure even as we speak you are trying to come up with some highly plausible story of why you weren't able to join in with Zemfira or how you did and yet miraculously escaped her fate, so I will make this very simple for you. I'm not interested in stories. I'm putting all my eggs in one basket. If Zemfira dies so do you, whether it's your fault or not. You can choose to help her and risk a quick death at the hands of the coven or you can choose to die by my hand, surely and slowly. In two hours I will call you to sync up our assault time. Doctor, please take Martin's personal phone. He's not to leave the infirmary until I say so. Use the men to fetch any text or artifacts that he or Zemfira requests," he added and hung up.
"Afraid Martin will call Buffy?"
Leshii looked up at the smirking girl.
"He does have another choice that I didn't mention: sabotage our mission and ensure my death."
"Do you want my phone, too?"
"No," the Russian replied returning to the blueprints, "You are smarter than that"
"Is that why you brought me with, am I too smart for the good doctor to handle? Clearly I'm not smart enough to stop you from being stupid. Are you seriously basing this entire mission on your sprinting ability? Three and a half minutes to limp all the way across the compound and down into the basement. What happens if you trip?"
"He'll make it," Yozh called out of his corner, "In fact, I'll bet you five grand he does."
"If he doesn't you'll be too dead to pay me off, you asshole!" Dawn snapped at him bitterly.
"Never said you were stupid, just crazy," the fat man cackled.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
They landed on a runway for crop dusters in the middle of some barley field. Three more men and two helicopters were waiting for them there. Bones was giving out last minute instructions as they buzzed into Westbury. Yozh must have been doing the same in the other chopper. Leshii and Dawn sat away from the huddle. His role in the coming assault was clear enough as was hers. She wasn't part of it. With his oversized sun glasses on, it was impossible to tell what Leshii was actually looking at, but Dawn was certain it was her. Trying to gauge her reaction, trying to anticipate her next move. She had no move. She felt completely drained, unable to motivate herself to any kind of action, completely resigned to watch the events as they unfold.
It went quicker than she expected. They moved simultaneously from front and rear with Leshii bursting through the main entrance as gas canister shattered the glass windows. Dawn has never seen him run before. He shifted his body forward using his cane almost as a third leg. Like a giant grotesque insect he scattered across the wooden floor and disappeared within the plumes of smoke. The gangsters were not using the gas out of some desire to minimize casualties among the enemy. To shoot a witch you must see her and there are all kinds of ways she can avoid that, but gas does not care for illusions or invisibility. Almost any force field will protect you from a bullet, but to conjure one that can stop the tiny poisonous particles without stopping the air flow entirely was a skill beyond any of the young adepts. Still, some fought back. From outside the building Dawn could hear the sounds of crashes and see the flares of white light through the smoke as some of the witches apparently mistook the infrared goggles their attackers were wearing for night vision. The resistance was short lived. As the sounds of the fight died down a few single shots rang out.
Dawn entered as the gas dissipated. It was a large country estate constructed largelyof pine and oak. It began with a long corridor where the gangsters laid out their haul: fourteen bound girls. Leshii's men appeared to have been well couched as each girl had tape over her mouth and eyes, while the hands were bound not just at the wrists, but also at the fingers making even a slightest magical gesture impossible. Further on three bodies lay, each with a single shot to the head. The talents and skills these teens must have been so proud of turned out to be their death sentence as Yozh judged them too dangerous to be taken prisoner. On the other side of the corridor Leshii emerged out of the basement entryway. His clothes were covered in dark spatter, while the bottom half of his cane turned entirely maroon with blood and gore. He walked up to Dawn stuffing his cell phone back into the inner pocket.
"From the doorway to the last witch in three minutes and twenty seconds," he announced as his eyes glazed over the prisoners, "With at least a minute to spare according to Zemfira. McClure has apparently pulled out all the stops. Fascinating how much of a difference proper motivation can make."
"What are you going to do with them?" Dawn asked getting mentally ready for another verbal engagement.
"It will take police in Bath another thirty five minutes to put together enough units and drive up here. I still have some work to do in the basement so I would like you to handle it."
"What?"
"You know there needs to be a message sent in instances such as these. Now you get to do it. I know it's only been theory up to this point," he continued taking in the girl's expression, "but do not worry. I expect to have at least ten minutes left when I'm finished. That's enough time to shoot them all should I find your approach deficient. It wouldn't be as unique as I believe you are capable of, but effective enough. I will leave you to it," with that he walked past her out the ruined main entrance.
For a few moments Dawn stood paralyzed by the choice just inflicted upon her, but time was short.
"Bones," she called out and the thin man immediately obliged, clearly aware of her assignment, "Get these two and follow me, " she pointed to the eldest girl on the ground and the one closest to her. They headed for the office which according to the layout was on the ground floor to the left of the back entrance. Dawn walked in first, sitting down at the desk in front of the computer. The girls were pushed in next with Bones closing out the procession. Dawn nodded towards the elder of the two young witches and the wiry gangster ripped the tape off her mouth with a purposely jarring motion.
"I need access to student files. What are the passwords?"
The girl didn't answer. She was in her early teens, looking both scared and defiant at the same time as children often do. The younger was eleven, twelve at the most. She kept glancing at her senior classmate with the pleading look of terrified confusion. Until now the conversations around them, including the one between Dawn and Leshii were conducted in Russian. They didn't have the slightest idea of who their attackers were or what was coming.
"I want those passwords now!" Dawn raised her voice trying to scare the young witch, but with two thirds of her face covered by fresh scars and black bruises she was inspiring more pity than fear. The prisoner only seemed to straighten up and press her lips tighter together.
"I don't have time for this!" Dawn hissed angrily, the emotions inside her boiling over. "Hand!" she yelled at Bones in Russian. The gangster knew exactly what she meant. He tore off the tape binding the wrists of the younger girl, grabbed her hand, and laid it flat on the table. As soon as he did Dawn grabbed a heavy wooden paperweight and in one sweeping motion slammed it down on the girl's fingers.
"The other one!" Her voice rose over the muffled sounds coming from the child's taped mouth. Bones obliged. Dawn stilled her hand in the air and looked at the elder girl who turned white as a ghost.
"User names and passwords. Now."
"Administrator. Gaia13Aet"
Dawn entered the letters as the girl stuttered them out. She was in, the files clearly labeled right on the main Desktop.
"Take them back," she addressed the smirking gangster who seemed to be having a great time. "Tell Yozh to take inventory of prisoners. I want a label with the name on each one, including the dead, and I want the list brought to me ASAP. Go."
Closing the door behind Bones she noticed Leshii going back down into the basement with what looked like an ice box and a chainsaw. She shook her head trying to knock the images of what that may mean out of her mind and sat back at the computer.
"What do you think you are doing?"
Dawn turned to see Tara standing behind her with a horrified look on her face.
"Are you actually picking which children you are going to kill?"
"What else do you expect me to do? If I don't, he'll kill them all," Dawn answered shaken by the vision before her.
"I expect you to try to save them!"
"There's eleven of them and one of me!"
"Then call for help"
Dawn looked over at the phone on the desk and picked up the receiver. As she expected the line was dead. This leaves her cell phone. That is the cell phone Leshii gave her. Did he block Buffy's number? Perhaps set up a silent alarm in case she betrays him? What about others, Willow's, Giles'? Even if he covered all the numbers she knew she could just call information and have them connect her to any random slayer, have her relay a message to Buffy. She took out the phone and flipped open the cover.
"You are not serious," Anya's voice was more disgusted than angry, "You have less than twenty-two minutes. Even if you can get a hold of someone, and even if they can find Buffy and Willow, what kind of rescue do you think they can put together? They'll get half the hostages killed and that's the best case scenario!"
"She's right," Dawn murmured, "It won't work; there's not enough time."
"You have to try," Tara's voice turned pleading, "You can't just sentence them to death!"
"Don't be stupid, Dawn, put away the phone," Anya commanded sternly.
"It's possible. Willow can teleport in, cast an instant anti gun spell; slayers will take care of the rest"
"You don't even know if there's an instant anti gun spell! Even if it does exist, it won't work on Leshii. The chances of this going right are infinitesimal. More likely you'll get everyone killed."
"I know that!" Dawn exclaimed exasperated, "But it's still a chance, I can't just ignore it!"
"So you don't. You take the number of lives you can save in each scenario and multiply it by the probability of the scenario succeeding. The one with the greatest number wins!"
"Expected value," Dawn mumbled looking up at Anya's satisfied face.
"Exactly!"
"Anya wouldn't know expected value, " Dawn rose off her chair and now stood at eye level with the apparition. "She may have been a wiz in arithmetic, but Statistics were not part of Middle Age curriculum."
"I did take a whole semester at Sunnydale High, if you recall" the ghostly figure countered, but Dawn just shook her head with an angry smile.
"Being a thousand years behind and still squeezing out a 'D' speaks volumes of Anya's raw intelligence, but no way would expected value be part of her active vocabulary. You are not her. And you are not Tara," she snapped at her second visitor. "What, the hell, are you?"
"This is not important, Dawn," Tara started softly
"Like hell it's not!"
"Alright, it is important," Anya acquiesced, "But you don't have time to figure this one out now. You have a decision to make."
"Well, if my decision is so important to you, how about you two just settle it between yourselves and let me know what you recommend!" Dawn plunked herself back into the chair, covering her head with her hands.
"I cannot," Tara shook her head.
"This is not how it works," added Anya.
"How what works? What is this?!" Dawn was screaming now. Even with the door closed and the gang all the way down the hall they could probably hear her, but she wasn't thinking about that. What she was thinking was that after so many close calls it finally happened: she has lost her mind.
"Please, Dawn," she heard Tara's voice whispering in her ear as she cowered on the desk refusing to open her eyes, "Do something!"
"Stop the hysterics and make a decision," added Anya sternly.
"Alright!" Dawn slammed her fist on the unpolished wood and lifted her head to face her ghosts. She was alone. Dawn glanced around the room then back on to the screen. Her head felt calm and clear. She pulled her chair forward and grabbed the mouse.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
When she exited, the gang was all in anticipation. If she had to guess Yozh organized some kind of wagering pool on what she'll decide to do. She handed him a printout.
"Break them out into these three groups," she said pointing to the girls still lying face down as she left them, bound and gagged, but now each had a crude name tag pinned to her back. "Stand them up, get the tape off their eyes," she added, "They need to see."
As Yozh and his men arranged the girls Dawn realized that she needed a speech. Some explanation. A few men spoke pretty good English; Leshii would certainly question them. What would he say? Something short, but thorough, no doubt; threatening, yet eloquent.
Ready. Dawn glazed over the three groups, trying deliberately to pay equal attention to each one. Assuming she interpreted the files correctly, the lone black girl in group two would be Olivia's niece. They've actually met once before, at Giles' engagement dinner. She probably doesn't remember, but she won't forget her now; none of them will.
"I say this without exaggeration," Dawn started trying hard to steady her voice, "What you will hear now are the most important words you have heard in your entire lives, perhaps will ever hear. Do not make a mistake of forgetting them," she paused for a deep breath, "Now, what you have witnessed today, what you are about to witness, are the consequences of an attack upon us. That it was unprovoked and undeclared is besides the point; any attack upon us will be dealt in the same manner: swiftly, decisively, and most importantly, comprehensively. It is our mission to eliminate not just the perpetrators, but the very motivation behind their action. You will bear witness and pass on to others who may entertain the idea of following in the steps of your teachers and guardians, that the extent of what they are willing to sacrifice is not for them to choose, but for us! Bear witness and remember!"
She turned abruptly and walked off; the left hand at her side flashing three fingers to Yozh. She was outside when the gunfire erupted and the screams followed. She wanted to drop to the ground, wretch out every last gram of her guts and die, but instead she marched steadily towards the helicopter where Leshii was loading his ice box.
"The wind carried some of your speech," he spoke as Dawn approached, "Sounded alright. What did you have to go with it? Well?" he added as the pause grew long.
"I've identified witches with the least number of family ties, specifically those with relatives killed during the assault," Dawn rattled out, each word tripping over the previous, "Which would make them likely candidates to seek revenge and in turn less likely to be avenged if killed. The others, with families intact, would be more easily threatened into submission right now and in the future turning them into potential assets down the line."
"How many?"
Leshii watched the girl open her mouth, but the words seem to get stuck in her throat.
"How many did you kill, Dawn?"
"Six," she mouthed, "six," she repeated a little louder. Leshii didn't respond right away. He jumped down from the chopper and walked up to her, paused, then stepped behind her, gripping both of her shoulders.
"You are shaking," he spoke quietly into her left ear, "You are afraid I will not accept your sacrifice, but that is not what you should be frightened of. You see, if I kill them all now, you will rest easy tonight, soothing your failure with the thought that nothing you could have done would have stayed this madman's hand. But if I accept it, as I do, this momentary relief coming over you will give way to the inevitable realization. If six was enough then most likely five would have been as well, or four, or maybe even none. The only certain thing is children died today that didn't have to. They are gone because you and no one else have chosen to murder them," he let go of her and took a few steps towards the compound, "Saddle up!"
The gang poured out of the house and into the helicopters. As the rotors were ramping up faint sounds of police sirens could be heard at the foothills. The last one coming out was Yozh. He grabbed Dawn who was standing catatonic in front of the chopper into his arms and jumped in just as the helicopter slowly lifted off the ground.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The lounge at the Academy was shrouded in darkness. Giles abhorred mixing natural and electric lights so the curtains were drawn with a desk lamp providing just enough light to watch Robson shaking his head in disbelief.
"Air traffic control has confirmed," Giles seemed to be a picture of satisfaction, "Angel's plane lifted off early this morning. They've come and gone without Buffy ever knowing they were here or that Spike is even alive. A complete success you might say."
"Unbelievable. How could someone like Andrew pull this off right under the Slayer's nose?"
"Precisely because no one suspects him. The boy may appear to be a bumbling idiot, but in reality he is…well…less so." The phone ring interrupted their chuckle. "Hello, darling," Giles greeted the caller. The smile on his face froze then crashed, "Oh my... When? Yes, of course, I'll be there as soon as I can. Yes, I'm leaving right now, " his voice seemed to mirror the agitation on the other end as he flew across the room to the door. "What?!" he froze in the entryway his face now deathly pale, "Is she sure? She must say nothing to the police! It's very important! She doesn't know who they were or what they wanted, do you understand? I'll be there within an hour!" He hung up and turned to Robson, "Get Kim, Parreli, and Lungren on the phone. Tell them Buffy has called an emergency Board meeting to be held two hours from now."
"This wasn't Buffy," the younger watcher replied slightly confused.
"No"
"When did she call the meeting, then?"
"In about twenty seconds," Giles replied pressing speed dial one as he left the room.
1 From 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy', 42 is the answer to the 'Ultimate Question of Life, Universe, and Everything'
2 Muslim version of hell
3 Willow is referring to the Deluge hypothesis proposed by Ryan and Pittman in 1997
