Marie | Tara stood in the check-outline, fumbling for her student ID while juggling her books. Where is - ah. There. She handed the card and books over and waited while they were scanned through. Glancing casually over at the outside benches as she left the library, she stopped in her tracks for a minute. There's Dawnie. Tara looked a second time. Dawnie, and a boy. And they're holding hands. She thought of going over and introducing herself, and checked her watch. Running late already. She looked back once over her shoulder. Nope, doesn't look like Dawn's in trouble. |
| The afternoon sun was warm on their faces as Dawn and Simon sat on a bench outside the library. After several minutes of silence, Simon started speaking. His voice was hesitant as he worked up his courage. "I, uh... I... I'm visiting my, uh..." "Family?" she suggested. Simon looked down at the bench, tracing shapes in the wood with a forefinger. "I was gonna say that. But it's not true. I don't have any family around here. I grew up in... I grew up... I don't know where I grew up." Simon's voice was forlorn. Dawn took in a quick breath, but didn't remove her hand from his. "I don't know much of anything, about me." Simon frowned. "I mean, I don't know if anything is true." "True?" she interjected, echoing his words. He grinned, a tad sheepishly. "There's the things I tell people to get rides or lunch or whatever. Like, I'm going to meet my older brother because my dad kicked me out. Sad stuff. I practically forget that they aren't true." He noticed her eyes getting more distant as he spoke. "I sound like a jerk now, right?" "No." she smiled at him, a little wry face. "Sounds more like me every minute." "Uh... I don't understand. What don't you know about yourself? You got a family, I'll bet. Lots of those cute photo albums." "It doesn't mean anything. Wait. I take that back. It means a lot, I guess. But it's not the same as being real." "You lost me." "Simon." She bent close, conspiratorially, as an older man shuffled past. "You told me you were looking for something, right?" "Yeah." "Well, I am too. So tell me yours first." "I'm looking for a girl." She blushed furiously at this, and sat back up, fidgeting with the sleeves of her shirt. He glanced down. "Not like that." Dawn pretended that this didn't bother her in the slightest, which it did, and tossed her hair over one shoulder. "Oh. Right." Dawn did her best to sound nonchalant. "What's her name?" "I don't know." "Oh." "I'm looking for my purpose. Reason for existing. That's it." "Did you try the Self-Help section?" He gestured to the library doors and she smacked him playfully. "Not even close. I'll explain it to you sometime." She thought, briefly, of her sister mingling blood for blood. "This girl, she... means a lot to you, huh?" "She saved my life, in a... a really bad situation." Simon watched her smile blossom. "Yeah, been there." She grinned. "Want to come to dinner?" Simon smiled, shy again. Knees don't knock when sitting, he thought, relieved. |
|
There was a knock on Giles' door. "Information overload," Buffy announced as she answered the door, glad for the distraction. She'd arrived only a half-hour before and was immediately overwhelmed with information on too little sleep. She wasn't glad, though, to open the door and discover Xander and a blanket-shrouded Spike squabbling on the doorstep. "For pity's sake, Donut Boy, stop yer whining, or I'll give you something to really moan about," Spike was saying as he barreled past Xander and Buffy into the living room. "No, you listen, pal. You ate three of these donuts; it's about time you paid your share." Buffy rolled her eyes at both of them, and seating herself at the table again. Spike shrugged and perched himself on the kitchen counter. Xander gave him a disgusted look as he started to place the box on the kitchen counter. He thought better of it and put the box on the table next to Willow, pulling out the empty chair beside her and sitting down. "Where's the boy wonder," Xander asked Willow as he glanced around the living room a second time. |
|
Not more than ten minutes later, there was another knock on the door. This time Xander got it, opening the door to welcome Anya and Tara. Tara put down her books, sending a smile across the room to Willow. "Careful about the jaw, honey," Anya reminded Xander just as he was about to give her a quick kiss. He smiled at her and kissed her on the nose, instead, and she gave him a wry look. Spike nodded hello as he seated himself next to Giles and snagged one of the untranslated sheets. Regarding it dubiously for a few seconds, he finally pushed it back to Giles. Spike's smirk clearly stated the group shouldn't expect too much help in translating from him. Giles took the paper back with an exasperated sigh and removed his glasses. Xander gave up his seat for Tara, and leaned against the back of the sofa as Anya seated herself between Buffy and Spike. "This is what we've discovered so far," Willow began, when everyone was settled. "Marcus' mother began a series of rituals on him when he was still quite young, and continued up to just before his sixteenth birthday. These rituals were -" she faltered. "Tedious?" Spike grinned slyly. "Those old long-winded rituals usually are..." His voice trailed off as he saw Buffy's pale face. Puzzled, he glanced at Giles. "Most rituals would be a cakewalk compared to these," Giles said. "Marcus has been under the impression, so he told us, that the rituals described in his father's journals were intended to cure him of some childhood illness." Giles sighed, his voice pitched low so as not to travel to the back bedroom. "However, shortly after his father died, his cousins -" "The ones who attacked the shop yesterday -" Willow whispered, half to herself. "And attacked him again late last night, it seems," Giles added. "Be that as it may, these cousins informed him that these rituals were not, in fact, to cure anything. They believe the rituals were designed to make him a vessel suitable for fulfilling a clan prophecy." Xander glanced at Buffy. Her eyes were lowered, and her expression blank, and Xander could feel something in his chest ache. Not again, he thought. He glanced back at Giles, who seemed to understand. "Marcus went to lay down shortly before Buffy arrived. Some of it I've already explained, but I didn't want to say more until I found a passage that confirmed my guesses." Giles paused again, and exhaled. "Now, it seems, we know the rituals, and their purpose." "These are they?" Spike asked, curious. He snagged another sheet and stared at it for a few minutes. "Looks like gibberish to me." |
|
"The rituals are extremely complex mystical operations involving the will of the wielder," Giles read out loud. "They involve using a Sphere of Elämä to focus the person's will upon the intended object." "As for example, Marcus." Xander's voice was flat, but his tone betrayed a bit of discomfort. Giles nodded, and referred to the paper again. "The object of the ritual would have felt invaded, violated even. The rituals are painful, strenuous, and in some cases, humiliating." "But why -" Spike started to ask, skeptical. Willow cut him off with a sad look. "He thought they were how his mother was showing her love for him," she said. "He thought she was trying to cure him of a serious illness." Buffy closed her eyes, and Xander stared at his hands. Spike's stomach felt queasy. "These rituals involve," Giles continued, "the ripping apart or tearing off a portion of the energy that is the fundamental part of a person, and transferring it to another person." "Like an organ transplant," Willow interrupted again, and Giles glanced at her, a bit irked. She shrugged slightly and ducked her head. Across from her, Buffy hid a smile. "I saw one of those on T.V.," Anya offered, but fell silent when Giles glared at her. Making a face, she folded her arms and didn't say anything else. "Yes, well. In this case, the transferee has no right to the energy they are receiving. It's foreign to their being. Their body, soul, spirit, energy wants to reject this foreign energy." Giles put down the paper and rubbed his temples. "Eventually the foreign energy becomes integrated into the transferee - the object of the ritual - and becomes a part of them. The rituals' side-effects are..." Giles shuffled the papers, looking for another paper. "Here it is. Side effects. Pain in limbs and joints, high fever, a feeling of being split in two, severe nausea, intense headaches, dizziness, and temporary weakness." "I'd categorize those as harsh," Xander offered, but quietly. "Indeed." Giles sighed. "However, the intended benefits are increased strength, superb agility, and... the ability to detect vampires." "Bloody hell." Spike kept his voice almost inaudible, but he was furious. Hasn't she been through enough? She hasn't recovered completely yet from... Spike slammed a door on those thoughts. He wasn't ready to take the scab off those wounds yet. The room was silent, and slowly each person looked at Buffy. Her jaw was set, and the only change was a flicker of her eyelashes as she stared at Giles. "You believe him," she finally said, "when he says he had no idea?" Giles nodded as he removed his glasses and polished them with a handkerchief. "As much as I can, yes." Willow looked at Buffy, her expression sad. "He really thought his mother..." "...loved him." Xander's voice was subdued. Buffy glanced at Xander's sobered expression, then at Spike's look of disbelief, Tara's stricken face, and Anya's confusion. Finally, she sighed, agreeing to the unspoken group decision. Spike turned to Giles. "His mother put him through hell so he could be his clan's personal Slayer?" Giles looked at the vampire for a long moment before answering. "The journals indicate that Marcus' mother was trying to subvert the Slayer energy. She was trying to eliminate the line of female Slayers by diverting their powers into a male child." "So demons can rule again," Xander concluded, and Giles nodded. "Wh-what can we do to make it right?" Tara looked over the stack of books and papers. "I don't know." Giles stood up, stretching his back slightly before regarding the group. "Originally I couldn't see reason to undo the rituals, but now it appears that we may have no choice." "As long as he's got the energy in him," Buffy stated, firmly, "there's a risk his family - or anyone else - will force him to take that last step." "The rituals to reverse the transference are most likely as difficult," Giles replied, his tone pensive. "The foreign energy is now an integral part of Marcus. It must be ripped out of him and sent back to its source. It would take a strong person, mentally and physically, to survive these rituals twice." |
|
Marcus appeared, his hand on the wall for support, shortly after the group had dispersed to continue translating and researching. The color in his face was better than before, Giles noticed, but the young man was still markedly paler than the day before when he'd strode into the Magic Box in a full temper. Marcus nodded to everyone, and accepted a stack of papers from Giles before he seated himself on the sofa and began to work again. From where he sat at the table, Xander glanced over a few times at the back of Marcus' head, regarding the stranger's oblivious silhouette with a mixture of disgust and pity. "His own mother," he mouthed almost inaudibly, disbelieving. Anya made an unhappy face in response, and lowered her head to continue studying the tomes in front of her. Spike caught Xander's pensive expression, and frowned, glancing over his shoulder to see what Xander was staring at. Buffy snagged the last jelly donut as Xander got up and crossed the living room to sit on the coffee table, his long legs barely fitting between the table and the sofa. "How're you feeling?" Xander asked softly. "You look pretty beat. Didn't that stuff from Tara and Willow help?" "I'm fine," Marcus said, if a little hollowly. His face was pale, and the lines of pain were beginning to show on his face again. "It was very good stuff, as it happens. Must be wearing off, that's all." As he spoke, he glanced to his side to see Buffy leaning a hip against the back of the couch and watching him. Her face showed nothing of what she was thinking. She finished licking her fingers from the jelly donut, and moved out of his line of sight. Marcus sighed, then focused on Xander. "Actually," he continued, "I could do with a drink. A good stiff brandy, maybe." Willow looked up. "Not a good idea. Alcohol and healing magick – ooh. And -" she included Spike and Xander in her righteous glare "- you need to keep a clear head for research. Everyone does." Spike seated himself on the wingback chair next to the sofa. He waited until Willow turned her attention back to her books before he silently mimicked her tone and expression. Xander curled a lip in response, and Spike jerked his head, just once, in the direction of the kitchen. Xander nodded, so quickly that Marcus wasn't sure Xander had even responded. Spike went to the kitchen, waiting until no one was watching. He quietly retrieved what was left of the scotch from the night before and poured a good-sized shot into a coffee mug. Stowing the bottle again, he walked over to Marcus and sat on the sofa arm. Marcus tensed at being flanked by the two men, but Spike put the mug in Marcus' hand. "Here," Spike said, conversationally. "Have some coffee, mate, that'll put hair on yer chest." And, for once in complete accord, Xander and Spike grinned widely at each other. |
|
Simon had decided to forgo mentioning the dreams, and told Dawn only about the rescue from Hell. He waited for some reaction from Dawn, but he didn't expect her to yank her hand angrily from his. He blinked, hurt. "What?" "Buffy. It's always Buffy." "Who's Buffy?" He was totally confused by now. "Buffy's my sister. Just because she's some hero, everyone thinks she's so special." Simon couldn't think of any way to calm Dawn's unexpected anger. He put his hand on her leg, squeezing gently to get her attention. "Look, I'm not sure that's who I'm looking for, but even if it is, you're the one I'm sitting with." She dropped her hand into her hands. He had to strain to hear her muffled words. "I'm sorry. It's just, Buffy's so pretty, so strong and brave..." He slid an arm along her shoulders. "I think you're prettier." Her head came up, almost smacking him in the face. "You do?" Simon couldn't think of anything to say, so he just smiled and shrugged. Dawn didn't make any moves to wriggle out of his arm, and the two of them stayed like that for several minutes, both lost in their thoughts. |
|
Xander wasn't having much luck with his assignment, and frequently grumbled to anyone within hearing about the impossibility of finding a single word in a dozen books. Willow raised her head from her own search and asked him pointedly what he was mumbling. "It's this word," Xander replied. "I can't find it anywhere." He handed the papers across the back of the sofa to Tara, who handed them to Willow. "Mar-lan." Willow frowned. "I think it's a type of fish," Anya said. "No," Tara interrupted, "it's the guy in the Arthurian legends, isn't it?" "The one with the pointy hat?" Buffy looked confused. Behind them, Giles sighed as he placed three more books on the table. "No, it's a term for some type of demon, but it's a new one to me." He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "It's a half-breed." Marcus' voice was quiet, and distinctly uncomfortable. The room fell silent, and he found himself staring intently at a small stain on a page of his book. "Rewind," Buffy commanded. Marcus frowned at her, then glanced at Giles, who shrugged almost imperceptibly. Buffy noticed, and scowled at him before turning her attention back to Marcus. "I mean," she said, rolling her eyes, "say that again?" Marcus flushed. "Marlan is the term for someone who is half-demon or less, when the demon half is Marcul." "So... the rituals require a half-breed," Willow started. "I prefer," Marcus interrupted her quietly, "the term Marlan." Willow started, and glanced at Buffy, who nodded slightly. Xander's eyes were narrowed as he carefully measured the stranger. Marcus shifted slightly in his chair, and hoped the residual pain wasn't too obvious. "Ohhhkay, Marlan." Buffy got up and walked around to stand at the end of the sofa, her arms crossed. "And the demon half is what again?" "A Marcul," he replied. When she nodded, he slowly exhaled, keeping one hand on his chest as he leaned forward to close the book in front of him. "As for example, Marcus?" Xander asked, a soft tone of skepticism coloring his question. Marcus nodded. "I was named for my mother's clan. The Marcul are one of the oldest demon hybrids. Even the purest Marcul has some human blood, since every few generations the genetic lines have to be strengthened." "Strengthened?" This from Giles, still standing behind Buffy. "You've perhaps heard of Ethros demons?" Giles nodded slowly, his expression growing suspicious. Marcus caught the look and shook his head slightly. "No, the Marcul aren't Ethros, but it's a similar background. Both require a shell of some sort, and can't exist for long in their true shape. The Ethros, however, live a great deal longer because they hop from shell to shell. The Marcul are born with one, and have it throughout their lives. When the shell gives out, that's it. The more humanity, the longer the body can survive housing the demon part. Too much humanity, though, and the clan's strengths are diluted." "So all Marcul are part human?" Willow asked, her face alight with fascination. Marcus noticed Xander was frowning at Willow, who made a face back at him. "Yes, but the purest are only an eighth or so human. The clan's quite strict about bloodlines, including arranged marriages. My mother was nearly as close to pure Marcul as one can get, given the mixed ancestry." Marcus stared at his hands, uncertain, before exhaling slowly and continuing. "But my father wasn't another Marcul or even Marcul descendant, but a full human." Willow chewed on her lip as she listened, clearly thinking about it seriously. Marcus shook his head almost imperceptibly before she had a chance to speak. "This demon race is not well-known; like many of our Italian human neighbors, we've a tradition of secretiveness. And perhaps it's because even full-blood members appear human." Buffy looked at Marcus' chest, pointedly. He flushed, one hand instinctively going up before he forced himself to relax. "No, Marcul in their true forms aren't even close to human. But the human genetics allow the Marcul to appear human. When necessary, the demon appears... sort of like the way vampires..." "- get all bumpy." Buffy raised an eyebrow. "Bumpy." Marcus rolled the visual around in his mind, smiling wryly. "Not that Marcul do – they tend to get somewhere between scaly and hairy." "And your cousin," Tara interrupted, "sounds like a wolf." "Pardon?" "Last n-n-night, when we w-w-were..." Tara glanced at Willow, who nodded and turned to Marcus. "We heard a wolf howl." Marcus was silent. The group exchanged curious glances at Marcus' reaction. His eyes were closed, and his face had paled. When his eyes opened again, his expression was strained. "That wasn't my cousin. That was me." |
| |