Chapter 35

Of dreams and theories

AN: Sorry for the long break, I had to rewrite it couple of times, and am still not happy with it, particularly I have the feeling that Giles is slipping out of character a bit. I'm afraid it might take a bit longer from now on to update (too much work :() Still, I hope you'll enjoy.

"Hm," Giles murmured, before remembering Angel's cryptic words at Christmas, "it's the other way round," he said thoughtfully, more to himself.

Helen stared at him after he had said those words. It felt too creepy, the scene from her previous dream was passing once more in front of her.

Giles kept contemplating aloud. "Well, do the spells that worked have something in common, I wonder? Or those that don't work?"

Then the image of Bellatrix the Vampire popped into her mind and suddenly Helen had the pressing feeling that she's been missing something the whole time, but she couldn't think what it was.

"Helen?" Giles asked again as she didn't seem to have heard him.

She raised her eyes at him, her look was blank.

"Can you think of something that those spells have in common?" He asked again and set a full plate with dinner in front of her. "I mean – I have no idea how your magic works, but... perhaps those were some special sort of spells or-"

She looked at him stumped now, just before she exclaimed loudly: "Protection spells!"

There was question in Giles' eyes. She was looking right at him, but he had the impression that she wasn't really seeing him, she looked like she was thinking hard and occasionally her head gave a short nod and a quick smile would fly over her face.

"You mean – the spells that worked, that knocked Angel off, were-", he spoke.

"Defensive magic," Helen said quickly, "those were protective spells, used for self-defense... or-or defense in general."

"But," Giles paused, remembering something, "but your protection spells didn't work against Lestrange and-". Suddenly Giles' face changed and Helen knew they were thinking the same thing. "Do you think that's what it meant?"

Helen didn't answer immediately. She tried to recall every spell she had ever cast since her arrival here. Though she could hardly remember them all, still, it seemed to fit. And then the dream too. "It looks like it," she spoke slowly at last, "all the offensive magic, attacking spells... they won't do with vampires, or demons, or-or for some reason hyena-possessed teenagers, whereas protective spells seem to be of no use against other wizards."

"Yet it does work the other way round," Giles finished frowning. "It is..."

"... odd," she said.

"Remarkable," Giles added at the same time.

"And I can't get rid of the feeling that it's not in a good way," Helen murmured. "Most of all – why? And how is that possible?"

On the next day just as Giles was checking some books, new arrivals mostly, behind the counter in the library, Buffy walked in in a somewhat aggressive way, visibly agitated about something.

"He was in my room," she said quietly, but with clear stress and a trace of wrath in her voice.

"Who?" Giles asked confused.

"Angel. He was in my room last night."

While Giles was absorbing this news and Cordelia kept lamenting about how she was in danger now every time she'd sit in her car, since Angel could enter it too, Buffy urged: "Giles, there hast to be some sort of a spell to reverse the invitation, right? Like a barrier, a-a no shoes, no pulse – no service kind of thing?"

They were interrupted by the seldom arrival of students, a boy and a girl, who had come to borrow some books on Stalin, and had to leave the library to continue the discussion outside. Though Giles pointed out, that with this new sort of harassment Angel was pursuing a classical battle strategy by trying to provoke Buffy, to irritate her until she'd do a mistake on her own, they all knew only too well that it was too risky to rely upon that and do nothing, especially when – given Angel's permanent access to their house – Buffy's mother was now in danger as well and without even knowing it.

"Buffy, I-I understand your concern, but it's imperative, that you keep a level head through all this," he insisted.

"That's easy for you to say, you don't have Angel lurking around in your bedroom at night," she whinged.

"Look, I know how hard this is for you... All right, I don't. But you mustn't let Angel get to you no matter how provocative his behaviour may become," he replied urgently. "A-and I told you I-uh... I will find a-...," suddenly he straightened up, a thought occurred to him, before he finished in a wondering voice: "... spell."

"Yes, but what about until you find a spell?" Buffy asked naggingly, but Giles wasn't listening anymore, his look was unfocused.

Then he turned at the three of them: "You go to class now, I'll see you later," and off he went in direction of Helen's classroom, leaving them watching his back perplexed.

As he was approaching the classroom, he could hear Helen speaking in a small and rather distressed voice: "I-I've told you I-I-I have not yet come t-to a final decision... I-I don't want to rush into anything..." Giles furrowed his brows, then to his very dislike he heard Snyder reply.

"And why not – if I may ask?" The principal asked, his voice unusually dark and even for his standards quite aggressive.

In the moment as Giles was about to enter the classroom, Snyder had pinned Helen against the blackboard, pressing his body onto hers, he was just a few inches taller than her, so that his lips were almost touching her cheeks, when he said threatening: "Don't you toy with my emotions!"

Helen squirmed as she was trying to put at least some minimum distance between them, but it was impossible, despite his short stature the principal seemed to be quite strong. She was worrying what he might do, for it was known that people under love-spells could be very unpredictable, rather rash and hotheaded in their doings, and also far from reasonable. Yet when she sensed him pressing himself even more against her, everything inside her mounted up for resistance, she felt her stomach tighten. His hungry lips just touched her neck, when she cried out in outrage, "Stop it!", and finally managed to push him off just enough to slap his face.

For a moment he seemed shocked, then fury appeared on his face and something else too, that made Helen regret that she had hit him and fear what he was going to do. He squeezed her shoulders so that it hurt and she gasped a little in pain, when suddenly Snyder was pulled away from her with force and she only now noticed Giles standing in the room. The principal stared at him in disbelief, but before he could react, Giles had hit him hard in his face and he fell on the floor, unconscious.

Helen looked down at him, then raised her wide opened eyes at Giles. "Thank you," she whispered, still a little discomposed and breathless.

Giles was massaging his left hand, clearly the punch wasn't painless for him either, and it had looked like he had put his whole force into it, yet by the sight of the knocked-off principal he appeared strangely satisfied.

Then he turned at her. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, but-eh... you shouldn't have done that," she said anxiously watching Snyder, he was already furrowing his brows, he would come around soon. "When he wakes up, we'll both be in trouble now."

"Then I'll hit him as many times as it takes," Giles said in a strange, dark voice, that reminded her of the Halloween night and the exchange between him and Ethan in Ethan's costume shop.

"It's not his fault," she replied reproachfully, "he's under a love-spell, he can't really be held responsible for his actions right now."

Giles didn't seem convinced, or rather he didn't want to hear any excuses on account of the principal. It felt good having finally punched him in the face – he had wanted to do it since a long time.

A loud groan came from Snyder as his hands covered his face, his nose was bleeding and was probably broken. He sat up, and Giles took a step back, ready to hit him again.

Snyder finally looked up, first at Helen, then at Giles and then his expression changed as if he had just realized something. "You...," he pointed his index finger at Giles, then back at Helen, and got up, "... you are cheating on me... with this-this... tweedy, stuffy, snobbish...," he was foaming, but obviously couldn't find a nasty enough word, so he pressed his lips together, thinking, "... librarian..." He was slowly approaching her again, while she was stepping back, with one eye keeping at Giles.

"Get away from her," Giles said again in this disquieting, strange voice.

Snyder's head snapped towards him and Helen used his momentary distraction to pull her wand out of the pocket of her skirt.

"She's mine!" Snyder shouted. "We were planning to leave together, to escape just the two of us, then you come here, you... you're so fired," he said spitefully and grinned nastily.

Before Helen could think of a spell, Giles' hands already jumped up and with the one he grasped the principal on his shoulder and with the other he hit him hard in his stomach. He had lost his temper again, he loathed the little man only too much.

"Orgh," Snyder groaned loudly.

"Giles!" Helen cried in shock, and when Snyder was about to strike back, she pointed her wand at the two of them: "Separo!" and with a light flash they both were pulled off each other into opposite directions, stumbling.

Snyder stared at her horrified. "What is this?"

She ignored him and turned to Giles, speaking in a desperate voice. "We need to call Hermione, or someone, they must obliviate him, I can't do it. And there's no way to tell what he might do... Or you for that matter," she added glaring at Giles.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"What are you two plotting? What are you talking about?" Snyder asked suspiciously.

Helen turned at him, gave him an apologetic, almost tormented look, then whispered: "I'm sorry," and pointed her wand at him, murmuring "Stupefy!"

Snyder fell again, blacked out.

"Can you watch him until I get back? I'll phone Hermione quickly from the library. I have a free period now, Mr. Pescoe is on some field trip with the seniors, so there should be no one coming in here...," she looked down at Snyder, "... but just in case...," once more she waved her wand at the motionless body, "invisibilem," and it disappeared from the view in an instance.

"Alright," he said quietly.

In the door Helen turned around at him. "And don't beat him anymore," she said, but Giles couldn't really detect from her voice whether she was angry or just a tiny bit amused.

She returned a few minutes later and explained, that Hermione was on her way here and should be with them within half an hour. In the meantime Giles told her about Angel's nightly visit in Buffy's room.

"We need to find a way to keep him out," she replied thoughtfully, "unless we all want to find ourselves living at Xander's."

For a short moment Giles looked horrified at the prospect, but then he remembered why he actually had come to see her. "Yes, I had a thought," he began and sounded more curious this time. Once again he was leaning onto her desk while she was sitting in her chair, they seemed to have forgotten all about Snyder. "Given what we talked about yesterday, you said that it was protective spells that had worked on Angel, but not on that Lestrange... I was wondering – what if the protection spells that you had used before to secure the school and my apartment, which did not keep Lestrange away – shouldn't they be effective against vampires –according to our theory?"

Helen looked at him, intrigued. She was slowly nodding in contemplation. "Well, in theory, yes... But I'm not sure theory is good enough in our case," she said after a while.

"Still, I say we should try it. At least until we find something else," he said.

"It's just... there's no way to know whether it works or not, is there?" She said doubtfully, just as Hermione knocked on the door and entered.

"Hi," she greeted them, and came directly to the point, "where is he?"

"Finite," Helen waved at some invisible point on the floor at the back of the classroom and suddenly Snyder's body appeared again.

"Right. What do you want me to do?"

Helen again explained to her shortly what had happened between him and Giles and that it would be better if the principal would not remember any of it. "Also, you must break the love spell, it's getting rather inconvenient," she added sarcastically. "Can you do that? An obliviation of that sort? Do you dare or should we better-"

"I can do the memory charm," Hermione said confidently. "But I'm not sure about the love spell. It was George who had cast it, and if I recall it correctly, he should also be the one to end it. Besides, you don't seem to know which love spell he had used, and there are several sorts, all differ in the way of breaking them, some even wear off on their own, others however can only be stopped by specific incantations, and there is also one, against which a complicated potion has to be drunk."

Helen raised her brows. "You seem to know a great deal about these things," she said suspiciously, suppressing a smile.

Hermione turned pink. "I just had been-eh... curious one time... besides, it's always good to know how to defend yourself against stuff like that," she added quickly.

"Well, anyway, I can't take this anymore, we have to end it somehow," Helen insisted.

"You will have to call George. I wouldn't want to risk any damage... The obliviation might weaken the love spell for a while, we can make him forget all that he had done under the spell so far, but he'll probably soon resume his efforts," Hermione said dryly.

After those words Giles shot a sinister glance at Snyder

Helen sighed. "Alright. Then do what you can and-"

"-and when I return to London, I'll tell George immediately to come here."

"Thanks."

Then Hermione took out her wand, took a deep breath, paused for a moment and stared at Snyder in full concentration, and finally pronounced the spell: "Obliviate!" A flash of yellow light hit his chest and Hermione seemed satisfied. "Good. It looks that it worked." She turned at Helen. "You probably shouldn't be around when he wakes up... In fact try to keep out of his way until George finishes it."

"Ok," Helen murmured, "let's meet in the library then."

Hermione nodded and watched her and Giles leave, then pointed her wand at the unconscious principal and said, rather hesitantly: "Expergiscaris."

Snyder squirmed, then moaned loudly, touching his hurt stomach. He raised his head, looking around him suspiciously. He got up and noticed Hermione. "What are you looking at?" He snapped at her.

She shook her head vehemently, but he just marched past her, about to leave too, yet in the door he stopped and turned around at her. "I'm still the principal here, right?" He asked her frowning.

Hermione smiled a little relieved and nodded, the memory charm clearly worked, hopefully without any side-effects.

"Now, where was I going?" Snyder spoke under his nose, when he stepped out of the classroom at last. "Right, Billy Crandal and the snack machine... pathetic little no-life vegan..." And off he was.

When Hermione came to the library and declared that all was fine with Snyder, Giles seemed impressed. He smirked. "Well, maybe we should do this more often then," he said.

"Do what?" Hermione asked.

Giles cleared his throat. "Uh-you know... beat him up, then-uh... clean his head..."

Helen pretended to be shocked, but smiled widely in the end, shaking her head in a not very convincing disapproval.

Hermione wasn't sure whether Giles was serious, but something about him prevented her from saying anything against it.

"Thank you, Hermione," Helen said to her and the young witch merely gave a short nod, then looked at her watch.

"Merlin, I must go, I'm supposed to have dinner with my parents... But I will call on George later, bye for now," and with a turn on her spot she was gone, before Giles or Helen could say good bye.

"Do you think that I am evil, because it gave me such a pleasure to hit him after all this time?" Giles asked when they were left alone and he stepped closer to her.

She smiled at him. He looked like a boy, feeling just a little bit guilty about something, that he rather wanted to be proud of. But the truth was that he also felt a little ashamed and worried that she had seen him losing his control, a small part of the former Ripper resurfacing for a moment, when he battered Snyder. He feared that she might have been scared, or worse – appalled by his conduct.

"No, I don't think you're a bad person because of that," she said calmly, then continued in a flirty undertone. "Or... if you are," she paused and with her hand caught his tie to pull him gently even closer to her, "then evil never looked so sexy," she whispered and he already leant down to kiss her.

Later that day Helen decided to cast the new protection spells on Buffy's, Willow's and Giles' houses, even though she wasn't positive whether they were of any use, as – this being Sunnydale – she couldn't really be sure of any of her magic.

Yet it was to be tested soon enough, when a couple of days later Angel, who was pursuing his latest hobby of harassing Buffy and her friends, showed up at Buffy's house. He briefly talked to Joyce and revealed to her that he and Buffy had slept together. But when Joyce unlocked the door and Angel was about to follow her inside, to his surprise and anger – and to Buffy's satisfaction – he couldn't pass the threshold.

Days were passing, George had lifted the love-spell over Snyder at last and the principal had resumed his former grumpy, annoying, but – for everyone involved – all the more comfortable nature; Angel kept pestering them, but at least they knew they were once again safe in their houses – and cars. There was still no news from Charlie about the Claderash-clan, only a short message, passed to them by George and saying, that Charlie was on it and would soon show up to refer what he found out. Helen's nightmares continued, but they were too confusing. Sometimes they figured Rodolphus or Angel, sometimes Bellatrix, or even Secundus Travers would appear, occasionally turning into vampires, but often enough there were entire strangers in her dreams, faces she had never seen. Sometimes she or Giles were being chased, or he was being held captive somewhere, and tortured, or killed in the end by a single swing of somebody's wand. And there were also the weird apocalyptic dreams, with scenes she couldn't account for at all. There were days when she was fearing the evening and the night and the time when they would go to bed and she would close her eyes and have to witness it all over again. She was far from superstitious and she did not believe in dreams foreboding the future. She thought that they were rather the mirror of things that had already happened and in one way or another kept occupying one's mind. But there were parts in her dreams that she could not trace back to any actual events, which together with the high frequency of these nightmares was beginning to unsettle her and affect her composure during the day. Also she had troubles falling asleep at all sometimes, and would toss in the bed for hours before the uneasy sleep took over at last. All in all because of all that she was rarely rested in the mornings.

Finally on one Sunday morning, when she had been unusually quiet during breakfast again, Giles made her talk at last. Although she did not want to tell him about it at first because these dreams seemed so silly and worrying about them even more so – plus she still wasn't entirely used to the fact nor could she really believe it that she could tell him anything, it seemed too nice to be true, that there was someone who would listen, who might understand or at least care without being all judgmental regardless whether he could comprehend it or not – on that morning under the candid look of his eyes she gave in once more as she had done couple of times in the past months, and told him everything about the weird, disturbing dreams.

"You think they might be... of the predictive sort?" He asked softly in the end. He had listened carefully. From his experience with Buffy's dreams he knew better than to dismiss such nightmares immediately as mere meaningless projections of one's subconscious.

Helen shook her head decisively. "No, I don't think so, I don't really believe in that sort."

"Well, Buffy's dreams-" He wanted to object.

"I know. But I'm not Buffy," she said, again a little testy. "I'm sorry," she hurried to say. "I don't think they mean anything, you see, they're just... rubbish really."

"Then why would they upset you so much?" He asked and looked at her meaningfully.

She managed a smile. "They're quite exhausting, you know," she said sounding less serious, "you try dreaming every night of endless ends of the world and quite graphic torture and people getting stabbed, hanged or quartered, and then being all sunshine in the morning."

Giles winced at the last picture. "Have you had such dreams before?"

Helen thought for a moment. "Yes, couple of times, years ago, but not as frequent as this. They really didn't have any... foretelling qualities."

"Hm," was all Giles would reply for now.

"Perhaps we can try something new tonight before going to sleep," he said after a short pause.

She looked at him in surprise, then smiled coquettishly. "Why Rupert... I-eh..."

He furrowed his brows at her, then realized that she must have misunderstood him. "That's not what I was...," he blushed and cleared his throat, "I was talking about your dreams."

"Oh," Helen squirmed embarrassed.

"Although, on the other hand," he said teasingly and sat down next do her on the sofa, turning his face to her and pleased he observed, that her cheeks were glowing as well and she held her breath for a moment when he leant closer, "that might work too."

A knock on the door interrupted them.

"Who can it be?" Giles wondered frowning and got up.

"I think we can rule out George, as he wouldn't bother with knocking," she murmured, a little displeased at the mistimed interruption.

Giles opened the door and the figure of red-headed Charlie Weasley came to their sight. Helen stiffened a little.

"Hello," Charlie greeted them smiling tensely and looking from the one to the other.

"Oh, Mr. Weasley," Giles replied and motioned him to enter.

"Thank you," Charlie said and walked in hesitantly. Helen noticed a fresh burnt scar on his forearm, just beneath his rolled-up sleeve.

Charlie saw her look and to her surprise he smiled rather contentedly. "We found the female," he said and grinned happily.

Both Giles and Helen looked perplexed at first, then Helen seemed to have remembered. "Ah, you mean the dragon."

"Yes. The Transylvanian Fireclaw," Charlie said proudly. "Well, the name's a bit lame, when you ask me, but... my transylvanian gleameye was outvoted, so... still, she's pretty sight..."

He noticed the awkward expression on Giles' face and Helen's bemused look and thought that perhaps as they had not seen the dragon they might not understand and share his enthusiasm. "I'll bring you some pictures next time," he said. "Anyway, I came because I have found, crabwise and after a great deal of asking, someone who might be of some help to you in the Angel-matter."

"Oh?" Giles straightened up in full attention.

"It's an old lady, not nearly as old as the event in question and I haven't met with her, but I've been told that she is one of the Calderash who had returned some years ago to the old homeland of her ancestors. I'm afraid it's the best I could do."

"Right," Helen seemed a little disappointed, though on the other hand she had feared as much. "But where had they gone? Where did she return from, do you know that?"

"Yes, they had left during the war, after their village was burnt down and some of them were killed or sent to concentration camps and those who managed to escape or had the foresight to leave earlier went to America. And before you ask I don't know where they settled down as I didn't speak with the woman, and the person who told me about her, didn't know a lot more."

"It might be worth talking to her," Giles said slowly.

"That's what I thought," Charlie nodded in agreement. "But you should know that she's not very chummy with wizards – bad associations or something, I've been told. That's why I decided against seeing her myself. Therefore perhaps you should go, Mr. Giles."

"Me?" Giles asked, clearly not enthused by the idea. "I cannot leave here for so long, not with everything that's going on, especially leaving Buffy now... It would take... how long, several days, such a trip. I assume she doesn't live in a city, probably in some village..."

"She lives secluded, in a cottage, a few miles away from a village called Măgura Ilvei."

Giles shook his head, he couldn't possibly undertake such a journey now.

"Why do say it would take so long?" Charlie frowned.

"Because, unlike you, Giles cannot apparate, Charlie," Helen said, reminding the wizard politely of what she thought was obvious, but she knew that wizards sometimes tended to forget these things, even if they were now and then associating with non-wizarding people.

"Oh," Charlie raised his brows, realizing she was right. But then he shrugged: "I think we could work around it," he said casually.

Giles looked at him bewildered. "H-how-uh... exactly?"

Charlie paused for a moment, thinking over the possibilities. "Well, I'd say side-along apparition might be a bit risky..."

"That's too far, Charlie, you might end up collecting Rupert's limbs all over the continent if he got splinched," Helen argued.

"Hm, alright," Charlie said casually, not noticing Giles' alarmed expression. "Then we could arrange a chain of portkeys, starting here and ending near Măgura, with three or four inter-halts...," he nodded to himself, obviously liking the idea, "I wouldn't use the one to the Ministry, and I doubt Kingsley would allow it, but we would create new ones... this could work... You have a strong stomach, Mr. Giles?" Charlie turned at him.

Giles opened his mouth, but didn't really know what to reply. He wasn't really sure he trusted all that magic. He had seen a lot of it in the last year, and clearly not everything about it was to be liked.

"Yes," Helen said thoughtfully, looking through Giles, "it could work... if it's done properly."

"Don't worry, I know just the girl to pull it off," Charlie grinned.

Giles felt even more disturbed now. Charlie made it sound like it was some very daring, very cool adventure. And what was it about splinching they had mentioned before?

"I can organize the necessary registrations with the Ministry and the Romanian Wizarding office, say... in about two or three days it could be set," Charlie said in a businesslike voice. "What do you say, Mr. Giles?"

"Hm, I-I am not-uh... sure," he turned at Helen rather helplessly. She gave him a reassuring look.

"You can go with him," Charlie suggested turning at Helen. "Provided you stay away from the woman's house and wait somewhere aside..." Suddenly Charlie's face brightened up: "And when you're there you must come visit us and our look-out near Sovata, and I'll show you our little fiery devil and his sweetheart... did I mention that the female is larger?... anyway, if you're lucky, we'll see them both...," he spoke in excitement.

Giles smiled half-heartedly. They could hardly afford making such detour and wasting more time away from Sunnydale than absolutely necessary. On second thoughts – that was a fairly tempting prospect, to see a real dragon...

Helen wanted to politely and regrettably refuse the offer, when Giles spoke first: "Alright," he said firmly to her astonishment, "let's-uh... let's do it. You will come with me, won't you?" He turned at her.

"I will," she answered, still surprised.

"That's settled then," Charlie rubbed his hands together, glad about the satisfactory development, then bowed slightly and bid them good day before leaving. He would be in touch soon.

Later that night Giles and Helen were lying in bed in each other's arms, pleasantly exhausted and with blissful gazes on her faces after the pleasurable fulfillment of the just past moments.

"What was it that you wanted to try before?" She asked dozily after a long while.

"Hm?" He asked. He was deepened in thoughts, absentmindedly stroking her arm.

"Earlier, something against my dreams?" She reminded him.

"Oh, right," he remembered and sat up. "Just a moment," he said, before getting swiftly out of the bed. She heard him descending the stairs and rummaging in his bookshelves. "There it is," he said and a few seconds later he was already slipping back under the covers with a book in his hands.

Helen looked at him very much puzzled and asked curiously. "What's this?"

"I heard somewhere that it often helps when you fall asleep listening to something. It helps taking your mind off other things that might be engaging it... Not music though," he said and held the cover of an old book in front of her face. It said Francis Durbridge's Send for Paul Temple. "Detective stories, as I recall, are supposed to be most suitable. Therefore, I thought – if you like – I'd read something for you, until you fall asleep," he said, then looked at her sheepishly.

Helen couldn't believe how lucky she got, she merely managed a moony nod in all her felicity.

"Good... Though I must warn you the story is quite lame..."

AN: Thanks for reading. Hopefully you'll forgive all the fluff. And I hope it's not too phony, the wand-magic-story. Giles and Helen still need to work it out obviously, but they're at least one step closer now. I hope you don't mind my Paul Temple reference, but I just got the audio-books couple of weeks ago and I simply had to put this in as Anthony Head is narrating them and there's hardly a better way to go to sleep than with his voice sounding in one's ears :)) man, I envy Helen for having the live-performance now :)