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Willow considered her computer and the possibilities that it held. On the other hand, there were the memories of past injuries from patrolling with Buffy, injuries that she might have avoided with better training. Here, she had the chance to get some training.
"Okay, Remy. Why are you the one talking to me about something that someone named Dine wants? And what is Dine offering in exchange?" She wasn't going to depend on someone saving her every time she was in danger. That didn't always work.
"Dine be wanting some protections on a studio. Ways to help keep the place in better shape, prevent problems from starting. Officially, Dine teaches many types of dancing. Offer is, if you can place some protections up, have some basic lessons. Officially a dance class, to help wit' balance an' timing, and maybe a basic self defense off de records. Remy be someone you know, so Remy be a good choice to bring de offer, make sure you know it be real," Remy grinned at her.
"Are we meaning things like magical bug repellent and protection against water damage, or are we meaning things to keep people from losing their temper and punching holes in the walls?" Willow asked. The bargain sounded fair enough, and without understanding the basics, any more advanced lessons would be useless. And having someone that she knew talk to her was a lot better than some stranger trying to offer her a deal.
"Somet'ing like bug repellent be good for basics, keeping people from fighting be a lot more complicated," Remy paused. "Can you do dat? Keep people from getting angry like dat."
Willow turned to face Remy, and sighed. "As in, is such a spell ward possible? Yes, with a few limitations. As in, can I cast one? I'd need some ingredients that aren't at the natural foods store, a couple special diagrams, and some chanting, and I wouldn't be able to cast a whole lot for the next couple days, but... if I could get the ingredients, yes."
Remy blinked for a few moments before he whispered, "What sort of limitations be attached to dat?"
"A certain area of effect, and it makes it a lot tougher to get angry, but not impossible - kind of like a magic tranquilizer, but not the sort that makes you sleepy. And it would wear off, faster if people try to get angry, but probably in about a year or so." Willow explained.
"Remy be impressed," he murmured. "Dine be t'inkin' about keepin' de bugs an' water out, not keepin' people calm."
"Cool, I can do that. It looks like I'll be working Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and the occasional Fridays, and all of it in the mornings. We can go talk to Dine and set up a time for the magic and figure out when I'd have lessons," Willow smiled. Life in New Orleans was looking up. "I'll have classes starting at the University the week after next, so we can just keep that schedule in mind too."
"Y' goin' to be movin' to the campus?" Remy asked.
"I asked, but all the student housing was already full for the school year," Willow shrugged. She wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to live in a dorm room again anyhow, but it was a bit frustrating that the option wasn't there.
"Dat means nobody at school be trackin' when you got places t' be," Remy smiled. "Easier to hide special lessons an' favors dat way."
"A very good point," Willow admitted. "But I can't stay in Tony and Callie's spare room forever."
"Don' worry, we figure out somet'ing," Remy waved his hand, dismissing her concern.
Willow just grinned. Remy was good at figuring things out and making arrangements.
end part 1.
In Los Angeles, Wesley looked at the telephone, attempting to gather his courage and meager amount of acting ability. He would be making a call to Sunnydale, and parts of what he intended to say would be less than truthful, and it was important that his falsehoods not be detected.
Miss Rosenberg had become a valued correspondent since he'd left Sunnydale, someone that he was starting to feel that he could comfortably call a friend. Granted that many of their conversations had involved him asking for help with computers, or questions about various menaces that had threatened Sunnydale, but... He'd come to like the young woman. He didn't have enough friends to dismiss one for being a handful of years his junior.
What she'd had to say recently had been heart-wrenching, even if parts of it were thoroughly normal sounding. Friends often grew apart, even without hunting monsters and destinies. It was understandable that Giles was focusing on Miss Summers, the Slayer, rather than a young woman who had developed an interest in magic. Her romantic woes - which she had thankfully not gone into detail concerning - were unfortunate, but common enough, if you substitute some other concealed problem for Miss Maclay's demon heritage, and some other excuse for the infidelity and abandonment of Mr. Osbourne other than lycanthropy.
But now someone was meddling with her memories. That was beyond the normal trials of adulthood. She'd confessed her uncertainty over both the scale and the possible causes, and had asked him for help. Not any of her on-line magical contacts, not Giles the experienced Watcher - him. From what she'd said, the question of Amy Madison was the key to determining the scale of the meddling with her memories, and so that was what he would start with. If there was an 'Amy Madison' in Sunnydale, then the likely causes and motives were different than if the other witch was only human again in Willow's memories. They had to know before they could start trying to fix things.
Though there would be separate questions about just what could be fixed. Some things couldn't be made whole again after disaster, much like eggs and fine crystal.
The part of his plan that he disliked the most would be that it played up the poor impression that he'd made in Sunnydale. He would be calling to ask about a magical problem, claiming hopes that the magical assistance for Miss Summers could help with this problem, which was unfortunately a bit beyond his experience. Asking for help puzzling out some magical riddles and identifying how to break some 'confusing and potentially dangerous' spells. He'd be certain to ask plenty of obnoxiously pedantic questions, in hopes of learning exactly who was offering assistance and how much. Ideally there would be a speaker-phone in use. It would play up the innate desire to seem knowledgeable and superior that most people had, and also call upon the impression that they had of him as someone rather clueless about the real world, tolerable but thinking himself strong on theory and quite lacking in practical experience. In short, they'd think that they were helping poor clueless Wesley save someone.
He wasn't that clueless anymore, though he had been… well, he'd matured considerably since leaving Sunnydale in disgrace. And he didn't need to worry about his pretended helplessness endangering anyone, as he wasn't planning to use a real and current threat. Though there had been the oddly resourceful mechanical dogs that had chased Angel the other month…
Wesley picked up the phone and dialed the number for Rupert Giles. "Mr. Giles? I was hoping that you could offer a bit of assistance with a problem that I've encountered…"
End part 2.
Remy had taken Willow out for dinner at this little dockside place. Someone who didn't know exactly what to look for would have missed it, had she been by herself Willow probably wouldn't have even been in the area. In fact, she wasn't quite certain it was so much a restaurant as a place where some of the local fishermen went for food after a long day on the water. The cook was a large man with a thick Cajun accent that Remy knew – Willow was starting to suspect that Remy knew people everywhere in New Orleans.
She wasn't entirely certain what dinner was, beyond fresh and hot and spicy. She could recognize the shrimp, and the fresh cornbread, but most of the rest was a mystery. She rather doubted that it would be kosher, but since she'd mostly given that up…
"Take you over to talk to Dine after this. You can sort out when be a good time around de job an' classes. Dine be quite a character," Remy grinned at her.
Willow nodded, sipping at her very sweet tea to sooth the heat of the spices. "So, what is Dine short for? Claudine? Almondine? I have an aunt in San Francisco named Bernadine. Deana, maybe?"
"Remy never ask." His smirk suggested that there was something there, some hidden story that he had no intention of sharing.
The studio itself was outside of the city limits, in a quiet seeming area with a yard dotted with shrubs that Remy assured her would be covered with flowers come springtime. Willow had been smiling, understanding the reasoning for wanting some sort of bug repellent – the whole place looked like it was built from wood and glass. As for water, well, New Orleans was a port city, and parts of it were actually below sea-level, so something to keep water out was also quite sensible. Somehow, someone had died on the sidewalk, right beside one of the currently leafless thorny bushes – Willow wasn't certain, but she thought it had been decades ago. She didn't ask about that, uncertain if she really wanted to know, or if Dine would know if she did ask.
Dine had met them at the doorway, beaming at them both. Tall, graceful, and clad in a ruffed red dress with beautiful hair and make-up… part of Willow wanted to hate her the way that she'd hated Cordelia. Red skirts had swirled as she'd hugged Remy and then half-squished Willow in a firm hug that smelled of citrus and spices. Dine had a nice voice too, low and a touch husky – the sort of voice that sent minds right into naughty territory. "You must be Willow; I'm so glad to see you. I'm hoping that you can help me with a little more protection for my studio, insurance rates can be so aggravating, and then even if things are covered there's still the hassle and delay of getting things repaired…"
As Willow was towed through a whirlwind tour of the small studio, listening to the energetic Dine chatter about the history of the studio and the variety of classes and lessons offered, her first thoughts were that Dine moved like a model. The careful posture, the confidence, the smooth motions that somehow always looked like they should be the focus of a photograph… There was just something a little off…
She couldn't put the off-ness into words until she closed her eyes to get a feel for the energy patterns of the place. After all, sometimes the local energies or the history of a building could affect the proper set up for magical rituals. The energy flows were nice, not snarled up by the neighbors or old rituals or weird local eddies and sinks like Sunnydale. She could also feel the energies of Remy and Dine, energies that felt far more similar than they should. That was when it clicked for her – the tall, energetic Dine was… well, tall, and elegant and energetic, but at the very least, Dine had started out under the masculine pronoun and accessories.
Willow wasn't about to ask if there had been surgical work as well as changes of wardrobe. She did wonder if Remy knew that Dine's history had once upon a time been the story of a young boy, and if that was why he'd had that smirk when she'd asked what Dine was shortened from. It didn't really matter.
"I can put in a bug-be-gone ward tonight, if you give me about ten minutes to prepare. It'll involve walking around with some stinky herbs and a bit of chanting, but if any neighbors see, we can pass it off as a natural treatment to get rid of hornet nests. Maybe twenty minutes tops. A ward against flooding will take a bit longer to set up, and I'll need to bury some small stones – no bigger than a peach pit – at the cardinal directions. Just a little off from the corners. A bit more chanting, and then that's set," Willow smiled, opening her eyes back up.
"Remy explained about the basic lessons in return for the wardings?" Dine asked.
Willow nodded, a tiny part of her jealous of Dine's elegant lined and shadowed and mascara'd eyes. Beautiful make up around very nice hazel eyes. "What sort of beginner's dance classes have you got that I can work around my probable work-schedule for the official part-time job, and the upcoming classes?"
A bit of schedule comparison later, they had decided that Willow would be joining the adult beginner's jazz class on Mondays, with a lesson in basic self defense Wednesday afternoons. She'd show up early Monday and start with the water-proofing, since while it would be a bit tiring, magically, but shouldn't cause her problems with what was supposed to be a light to moderate physical work out.
Magic seemed so much simpler when she had a good idea of what would be asked of her and was offered more in exchange than 'we can't let the demons eat people' or 'we have to stop this attempted apocalypse'. She wouldn't have to hide her magic, or squeeze it in between homework and dating and trying to find a part time job when there were so many other applicants with better people skills that interviewed better. She might even be able to find a teacher that wasn't out to take over or destroy the world, or 'just eat some people'.
While she didn't want to get her hopes too high, or tempt fate and Murphy, it looked like things were looking up.
End part 3.
Willow should have expected the goodbye kiss from Remy as he dropped her back at Callie and Tony's place. That didn't keep her knees from feeling wobbly or her stomach from acquiring a flock of butterflies, all of them wanting to get out. She was still smiling as she walked up the steps, fingers touching her lips. "He's smooth… real smooth."
"Those Cajun boys are trouble," Callie's voice was amused. "Very charming trouble."
With a smile, Willow murmured "the charm is to make us overlook the trouble. It's pretty effective."
Callie nodded. "I suppose that whatever Remy had planned went well enough? Is there anything you wanted to talk about?"
"Eventually, you're going to want me to move out of your spare room. Which means that I need a place to move to, and… well, it won't be a dorm room for school, because they're all full. So I need somewhere else. Maybe an apartment or something. Somewhere that has enough space, somewhere that my magic supplies and hopefully studies won't cause awkward questions, and somewhere that I won't have to worry about vampires and demons attacking all the time. And somewhere that I can afford on a limited budget," Willow sighed. As if the she didn't have other things to worry about, what with the tampered memories, the speculation about what or who could be behind that and why. Her hopes and worries about Remy and what could happen with them, and if it would go well or end in tragedy. Sunnydale nightmares.
"I can't offer much advice about the monsters or the magic, but I can help you look into finding a place," Callie paused. "Let me get some coffee for us, and then we can talk."
Tony came in about a half hour later, as they were talking about some of the apartment buildings and complexes near the campus. He dropped a duffel bag beside the chair, and tucked an envelope between a couple of Callie's books before shuffling over to the table. "Don' want to move to delaCour. Security dere is a joke, an' some of the people be best used as alligator bait."
"That statement have anything to do with your trip out tonight?" Willow arched one eyebrow at Tony. "You've got blood on your sleeve. Is it yours, and if so, have you got that taken care of yet? Bandages and antiseptic."
Something unhappy and French was muffled by his hand, but Willow suspected that if his words had been anything she understood, they would have been very impolite. And he probably hadn't had his arm properly looked at yet.
Inspecting his arm revealed that he had a fairly straight cut on his arm, running about five inches. His 'taking care of it' had turned out to be wrapping the shirt he'd been wearing around the wound to hold it closed and try to keep the bleeding under control. There were also quite a few bruises, and he was limping a bit, but Tony swore there were no other injuries that they needed to fuss over. Callie fussed anyhow, cleaning the wound with some clear liquid that she kept in a green bottle beneath the sink that, judging from Tony's reaction, burned terribly on the wound. She then gave him a few crooked stitches, apologizing about using a dark blue that showed up against his skin even as she wrapped the cut in bandages.
"So, if I don't want to stay there, do you have a suggestion?" Willow asked.
"Not yet, but maybe Remy an' I look into a few t'ings, see 'bout a couple ideas. Maybe we get a suggestion for you. May have neighbors who don' always follow all de laws, but…" Tony shrugged.
"That would be different how?" Willow looked at him, thinking back to the things she'd found on him. "I've seen your police record. And remember how I met Remy in the first place. There's also the fact that my friends and I back in Sunnydale… we may have… bent a few laws… broken a few… when we were fighting demons and vampires. And that's completely stepping around the rocket launcher."
"Dat makes sense. Hard to t'ink of you breaking laws, Red. Y' seem like such a nice femme," Tony flashed a tired smile, and sighed. "Dere be lots of nasty people in de world."
Willow could only agree with that. "I guess if you and Remy will ask a few questions, and you aren't trying to push me out just yet, I'll… just go to my room and let the pair of you get some rest yourselves. You look like you could use it, Tony."
Tony made a vague noise, and Callie nodded.
When she got to her room, she went to her computer. Among the various emails was one from Wesley, with the subject line 'Amy in the Sun'. Willow figured that there were two options – either he'd found some information regarding her memory confusion, or his email account had been used by a spam-bot that was sending porn.
It wasn't porn. His email, far more formal and letter-like than most that she received, was fairly brief.
Miss Rosenberg,
I made a telephone call to Sunnydale to ask for the assistance of Mr. Giles with a problem encountered in LA. Rest assured that the problem was fabricated, though I did make use of several aspects of real situations that we have encountered.
While this has reinforced the impression of an ill-prepared buffoon among those who remained in Sunnydale, Mr. Giles was quite willing to volunteer his time, as well as the assistance of Miss Anya Jenkins and Miss Amy Madison to help with my vexing problems. I confess that had it been a genuine problem instead of a thinly veiled effort to determine the presence or absence of a Miss Madison or sufficiently disguised impersonator, I should have felt quite grateful for the assistance.
The relevant aspects are 1) there is no magical crisis in LA that we need help from Sunnydale to solve. 2) There is someone using the identity of Amy Madison in Sunnydale, in close with Mr. Giles and Miss Summers. 3) Miss Summers seems to believe that you are avoiding them due to some issue with your parents or perhaps classes – she seemed a bit vague on the details. I did not ask too many questions.
We will be looking into possible explanations for the Sunnydale Miss Madison later. Appropriate information on undoing memory modifications will be sent to you shortly – research is going on as I type. Angel and Miss Chase were both quite concerned for your safety, and were somewhat reassured when I informed them that you were not sulking alone in Sunnydale but had relocated to Louisiana. You may receive emails or phone calls asking for additional information. Please keep a careful eye on the rat Amy, though we are in agreement that she is probably not much of a current danger, being a rat in a cage.
Your friend,
Wesley Wyndham-Price.
"You write the most formal emails I've ever seen, Wes." She couldn't help smiling at the idea that at least some of the people that she knew from before were worried about her. Not who she'd have expected, but someone was better than no one, right?
It wasn't a solution yet, but at least he'd found a few answers for her. That was a start.
End part 4.
End Small Favor 20: Building Connections