Lady Starlight | Willow had stopped by before classes to drop off a few protection wards for Buffy and Dawn's house. Unfortunately, she'd also arrived right in on the middle of an argument between the two sisters. Waving at Buffy over Dawn's shoulder as Dawn yanked the door open, Willow quickly made her way into the living room, surprised to find a young man sitting on the sofa. Quietly they introduced themselves as Buffy and Dawn argued in the foyer. "No, you are not staying home today." Buffy crossed her arms. "I know you've got a math test, so don't even give me that look. Pack your stuff up, 'cause you're going." "You can't make me!" "Wanna bet?" "Are they always like this?" Simon whispered to Willow. "Oh, you bet," Willow replied airily. "In fact, this is nothing. Just good, clean, sister fighting." Momentarily interrupting their argument, Willow pointed out that she needed to get to class. The redheaded witch pulled out the box of wards, outlining instructions for their use. Buffy gave Willow a quick hug before seeing her to the door. In almost the same instant, Buffy rounded on Dawn and the argument began again right where it'd left off. Simon watched in dismay as the argument escalated to the point where Buffy was threatening to escort her sister to class daily and Dawn was promising total rebellion for a decade. Finally, he raised his voice to get Buffy's attention. When she turned in surprise and irritation, he smiled sweetly to disarm her. "I can walk with Dawn to school. The deli owner said he'd have work for me again if I wanted it, so that's where I'll be if you need me for anything." The two girls looked at each other warily. Buffy broke the silence first. "Okay. Dawn?" Dawn brightened up remarkably fast, but managed to save a sulky look for her sister's benefit as she grabbed her jacket and backpack. Simon went after her, calling softly over his shoulder to Buffy, "She'll be okay." Dawn was waiting on the front porch, and together they headed in the direction of her school. "Never let it be said that I stood in the way of higher learning," Buffy muttered. She closed the front door, feeling tired already. "I have got to take a shower." Simon hurried to keep up with Dawn. She was walking so quickly that he broke into a half-run to keep up with her. She was muttering her way through what sounded like an oft-repeated monologue. "Always telling me what to do. Go here, Dawn. Go there, Dawn. Don't do that, Dawn. No, you can't help." With a burst of speed, he managed to get in front of her. "Whoa. Stop for a minute." Dawn stopped, still sulking. Simon took her hand and said, "She's just worried about you." "I know, but it's really annoying sometimes," Dawn retorted, then sighed and rolled her eyes. She glanced down at Simon's hand still in hers, and smiled shyly. "Come on, let's see the place of torture you call school." He squeezed her hand. "Oh, it's not so bad. My art teacher's really nice and she says if I work really hard, I might get an A." She giggled and squeezed back. "See. Life is good." "It is... now." Dawn glanced down at their entwined hands again, and bit her lip before glancing back at Simon. Her gaze lingered for a second on his lips before meeting his eyes. "Come on, don't want you to be late and have the Big Bad Buffy mad at me." He tugged on her hand and they walked on. "What are you doing after school?" "Nothing. What do you want to do?" "There's a coffee shop by the deli. Why don't we meet up there and see what happens?" "Sounds good." As they neared the school, Dawn waved at a girl walking towards them from the opposite direction. "Who's that?" Simon asked. "That's my best friend." "Can I be second-best?" he teased, and Dawn blushed. Neither noticed a tall blonde girl blocking their path, until Dawn nearly walked into her. Kirstie whirled with a haughty expression, ready to snap at Dawn. Before Kirstie could speak, she caught sight of Simon, registering his slender height, large green eyes and thick shock of brown hair. The same quick glance informed her that Dawn was holding hands with this same cute stranger. Smiling coldly at Dawn, she turned the full power of her blue eyes on Simon. "You know, you could do much better. Like me for example." Kirstie licked her lips in her best attempt at adult seductiveness as she smiled at Simon flirtatiously. Dawn was so shocked she couldn't say anything. Ignoring Dawn's indignant expression, the blonde girl took another step closer to Simon and purred, "I'm Kirstie. And you are?" "Taken." Simon said flatly. So this is the one who makes Dawn cry in bathrooms. He looked Kirstie up and down, shrugged, and turned to Dawn, taking a step to the side to block Kirstie out of their conversation. "So after school at the coffee shop, right?" Dawn nodded, and managed a smile. He could tell she was still vividly aware that Kirstie hadn't moved, so he slid one hand around to the back of her neck and leaned in close. Just before their lips touched, he murmured, "Just go with it." The kiss seemed to go on and on. As they pulled away, Dawn smiled, looking at him from under her eyelashes as she remained leaning close to him. "Have fun today," Simon murmured with another quick kiss. Dawn nodded, stepping back with a smile, and Simon turned to walk away as if he'd completely forgotten that Kirstie was standing there. At the corner, he peeked back over his shoulder to see Dawn and her friend ignoring Kirstie, who was sputtering to a group of girls around her. He smiled to himself. Score one for the good guys. |
| Marcus stretched his arms, taking a deep breath in the morning air. He was sore, but calm. He circled Giles' apartment complex for the fifth time, taking it easy as he navigated a meandering path through the quiet mid-morning streets. I talked to her. Really talked... He was overwhelmed. Buffy had tested him physically past what he'd thought was his limit, and somehow he'd held his own. Even got in a few good ones back on her, he thought, impressed. And she responded by trusting me. It was an unfamiliar experience, but a pleasurable one. |
| He'd spent the short walk from Buffy's house to Giles apartment, the night before, arguing with himself over kissing Buffy and his immediate response. She just wanted to know, and I did, too. Bloody hell, I spent the whole evening hoping for a kiss... And instead, I ended up sounding like a jerk. Marcus stopped, tired of berating himself for his rash words. His thoughts circled around again to the same conclusion he'd reached the night before. I don't give a damn about the history between them. Doesn't change what I feel. But that still doesn't excuse being so harsh... Marcus had finally concluded, shortly before falling asleep at Giles', that the few minutes on Buffy's porch didn't scare him nearly as much as the fact that he'd been so open and forthcoming with her for several hours previous. What scared him even more was that their connection made him want to be open with her, to allow her in where he'd always protected himself before. The thought that there was another Slayer out there, who might prompt the same feelings and electricity in him, scared him just a much, but excited him, too. It was like looking over the edge of a huge precipice; stomach churning, but exhilarating. |
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"Marcus. You're looking well." "Sarcasm doesn't flatter you. What brings you out of your hidey-hole?" Marcus fought to keep his expression studiously impassive. Catching his breath, he shrugged his jacket sleeves down a bit to cover the bruises mottling his wrists. The corner of Doc's lips curled in the beginning of a smile. "An old man needs his fresh air and exercise. Surprised to see you." "Thought I'd visit longer." Marcus kept his face politely blank, but his tone verged on sneering. "You made it quite clear you won't help me. It's certainly no business of yours what I choose to do." He thought briefly of angrily storming away and reconsidered. "You purposely left my bag for... strangers to find. It's bad enough I have to deal with the Bobbsey Twins, without your interference making it worse." Unflustered, Doc reached down and picked up a penny from the ground and twirled it around in his hand before handing it over to Marcus. "Heads, usually means good luck." He mumbled so softly, Marcus could barely hear him. Marcus looked at the penny, then raised his hand to toss it back onto the sidewalk. Before he could, Doc's hand closed over his in a vice grip. "Interference, hmmm? Interesting word, several meanings." He smiled at Marcus. "Heard tell my lovely daughter spent the better part of last evening chasing a taxi cab. She must have thought you'd taken to hiding in trunks. It was quite amusing." With one hand, Doc held Marcus' hand at the wrist. With the other, he pried open Marcus' fingers and took back the penny. "Seems to me those strangers saved your life." Marcus tried to pull his hand away but the old man held tight. "I don't get you. Why?" "You don't have to get me." Doc released Marcus' hand then dropped the penny into the front pocket of Marcus' jacket. "Consider it a freebie." He patted Marcus' chest. "There won't be another." Doc stepped around him, walking off without another word. |
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"You didn't tell me last night. How was patrolling?" asked Giles as he closed the door behind Buffy. "Still writing about me in your diary, Giles?" She grinned over her shoulder at him. "It's a journal and if you must know, yes, I am still keeping track of the fluctuation of demonic activity," her former Watcher replied rather stiffly. "It was a shutout. Vamps, zero, Buffy, five. No extra innings, unless you count the two Marcus got." "Good," Giles replied. "By the way, Marcus is dispersing his traces further, as he called it. Although I suspect he just needed some time to himself," he added, too quietly for Buffy to hear. Before she could ask him to repeat what he'd said, the phone rang. She waited while Giles answered it. "Hello? ... Oh, hello Wesley." Buffy wandered into the living room. She eyed the books and papers strewn across the coffee table and part of the floor. Giles in research mode, she thought. Idly picking up some sheets of paper covered with Giles' handwriting, she pretended to read while eavesdropping on the phone conversation. "Really. ... Several months? ...I see. That is serious... Oh? ...Hmm, no idea." Giles picked up a pen. "Tell me again." He wrote something the pad by the phone, then glanced at Buffy. "I'll get back to you later today, I expect. What? Yes, tell Cordelia hello from all of us. Goodbye." Giles hung up the phone and looked over at Buffy. "That was Wesley." "Got that," replied Buffy. "What did he want?" "It seems Faith had a dream or a vision in which a tall, dark-haired man gave her a message." "I'm not surprised." "How's that?" "Faith locked up with a bunch of women? And she dreams about a guy? That makes her horny, not Prophecy Girl." "Buffy, please," Giles exclaimed, a little shocked. "Giles, you didn't know her like some of the rest of us did," Buffy reminded him. "Be that as it may. According to what Wesley told me, Faith appears to have had several visions of Marcus, and she's identified him as not only a Slayer, but as part-demon, too." "What?" Now it was Buffy's turn to be shocked. Misunderstanding her surprise, Giles continued. "It's not so surprising, Buffy. Technically, she is the active Slayer. So there's no reason why she wouldn't have prophetic dreams." "And what am I, chopped liver?" Buffy muttered grumpily. "Tell her to get her own dreams." "What was that?" "Never mind," she grumbled. Switching gears, she glanced at her watch. "I've got to run. Willow said she could meet me for lunch between classes." Before he could even respond, Buffy had grabbed her coat and was out the door. Something's going on, he thought. I'm not so old I don't know that game. Well, be that as it may, they'll figure it out. He sat down at the table, staring at the message he'd written. Not more than a minute later, Marcus opened the door, a bag of groceries in one arm. Without a word, he went to the kitchen and began unloading the milk into the fridge. Giles stared at his notes, and did his best to keep a straight face. Buffy straightened her shoulders before knocking on Willow's door. The short walk from Giles was a bit chilly, even with the late November sun beating down on the sidewalks. It had given her time to think, but all she'd managed to do was argue with herself. "Hey, Will," said Buffy when her friend answered the door. "What's for lunch?" "Hey yourself," replied Willow, closing the door after the Slayer entered. "Soup and sandwiches. Hope that's okay." "Sounds yummy." "You sit down while I dish up the soup." Leaving her coat on the couch, Buffy sat at the table in the cheery little kitchen. The autumn sun streaming through the window helped warm the small room. Buffy helped herself to a sandwich as she waited for Willow to finish ladling the steaming soup into bowls and join her at the table. "This looks great." Willow grinned happily. "Thanks." Between bites of sandwich and sips of soup, the two young women chatted, catching up on life's important trivia. "This soup's really good, Will." "Tara made it. She's much better in the kitchen than I am." "Maybe she can give me lessons," said Buffy ruefully. "I think I'm up to canned ravioli and tossed salad." "Have you thought about coming back to school?" "Some. But with taking incompletes in my classes last spring and not being here for part of this semester, I think I'm too far behind. Besides, I've got to think about Dawn." "How is Dawnie?" "Can I lock her in the basement until she's twenty-one?" "No, they have laws against that." "Then can I get her a scholarship to military school?" Willow giggled at the thought of Dawn playing the good little soldier. She stopped quickly when she saw Buffy's raised eyebrow. "Sorry, Buffy. But everything will work out okay. You'll see." "I hope you're right, Will." They ate in silence for a few moments before Buffy spoke again. "That's a cute top." Willow glanced down at her fuzzy pink sweater before answering. "This old thing? Buffy, you've seen this sweater a hundred times." She peered over at her friend, noticing how distracted she had become. "What's the matter?" Buffy laid down her spoon and pushed aside her nearly empty bowl. "I had a long talk with Marcus last night." "Ooh, that's good. Isn't it?" "Yes ... and no." Willow set down her own spoon. "Okay, from the beginning, spill." Buffy quickly explained about sparring, talking, and dancing - Willow's eyes widened at that part – before she got to the part of the evening she was trying unsuccessfully not to think about. "After he walked me home, we kissed. Or rather... I kissed him." "Ooh, sparkage!" beamed Willow. "Yeah. I mean, no. I mean..." Buffy fumbled for the right words to explain to her best friend what had happened between herself and Marcus. "It's not like that... mostly. It's... it's just that I wanted to see what it was like..." "Well, he is delicious," interrupted Willow. "No, he's not. I mean, he is. I just wondered what it would be like to be that close to someone who was connected to the Slayer energy. I mean, it's pretty much like he's a Slayer, only he's a guy, and older." Willow looked at her friend in silence, sensing there was more Buffy wasn't saying. After a moment Buffy continued. "Marcus says he's had dreams about me... and some of the other Slayers. He says he feels a connection to them... us." Buffy paused, anger and hurt making it difficult to get the words out. "He claims he's in love with Faith." Shock registered in Willow's wide eyes. "With Faith? Miss Kinks and Fetishes? You can't be serious." Buffy nodded her head sadly. "He made it sound like it was kind of hollow, kissing me. Okay, no, he said it was probably hollow for me kissing him, but still..." "Oh," was the only reply the redheaded witch could muster. The Slayer stood up and began to pace between the kitchen and the living room. "It's not that I think he needs to be in love with me. But Faith?" "You can't understand men, even if you live to be a hundred," offered Willow sagely. "Which is unlikely, given my profession." Buffy smiled wryly. Faith's words were cryptic. Frustrated, Marcus put down the sheet, his heart still fluttering at the realization that the one he'd been dreaming of had also been dreaming of him. "Look beyond The Twilight of the Gods to reach the end," he murmured out loud. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" "Marcus!" Giles said suddenly, louder than he intended. "Where is that Saxon book you had?" The younger man looked up. "In my backpack. Why?" "Get it. I think I know what she meant." Marcus retrieved the book in question and handed it to Giles, still not understanding why the older man wanted it. The book was a Late-Saxon translation of The Prose Edda. Relatively rare and fairly valuable, but just a book of Scandinavian myths by the third-century Icelandic poet, Snorri Sturluson. Holding the leather-bound book in his hand, Giles thought he knew what Faith had glimpsed through her Slayer-connection to Marcus. Turning to the end of the book, he began scanning the text. His Saxon was rusty but he could recognize the word Ragnarok. The Twilight of the Gods, Götterdämmerung, he read to himself. One of the myths Richard Wagner had based his Ring Cycle operas on, the story of the destruction of the Norse gods was the last one in the book. There were a few blank pages at the very end. Giles rubbed his fingers over them searching for any raised markings. Then he held the pages up to the light. Nothing on both accounts. Puzzled, he turned his attention to the endpaper that helped bind the pages to the cover. There was something odd about the paper. He compared it to the one at the front of the book. The endpaper in the back was newer, expertly distressed to look antique, and skillfully applied. Giles ran his hand over the paper. There was a slightly raised area, rectangular. A passing inspection might conclude it was the product of a deteriorating binding. Giles had a different thought. Hardly able to contain his anticipation, he took out his pocketknife. Carefully he slit the paper around the raised area. Marcus nearly yanked the book out of Giles' hands as he watched Giles cut into it. In addition to its value, his father had given him the book on his last birthday. He abruptly stopped when he saw what was revealed beneath the endpaper. Giles unfolded two sheets of paper-covered front and back with text and diagrams in Charles Siefer's now-familiar handwriting. Glancing over the pages, he was surprised to find they were written in English. Extraordinary, considering their value. He looked at Marcus. "Do you know what these are?" Giles asked, indicating the pages. "No," replied Marcus, shaking his head. "I didn't even know they were there." Giles looked at the young man who held the fate of future Slayers in his hands before answering. "It appears your father devised a ritual to reverse the transference of the Slayer energy." Despite everything he had learned about his father in the last day or two, Marcus was startled that Charles Siefer had had the magickal knowledge to create such a ritual. "May I see?" Marcus asked quietly. "Of course," replied Giles, handing him the pages. He watched as the younger man read. Marcus read for several minutes, carefully perusing the diagrams and symbols. Dismayed, he looked at this father's friend. "No idea. I'm sorry." He handed the papers back to Giles. Giles perused the papers again, reading them carefully before he lowered the sheets and removed his glasses. "This kind of ritual should take place on the full moon." Marcus was immediately anxious. "When is the next one?" Giles dug out his almanac and flipped through it. He dragged his forefinger down the listing for November and his face went very still. "Ten days from now." "I don't think..." Marcus bit his lip, afraid to offend his father's friend. "I don't think I can hold off my cousins that long," he whispered reluctantly. "We should call Willow and Tara," Giles replied as he put his glasses back on, studying the sheets again. "They may have some insight. And they could definitely help interpret some of these instructions, which may clarify our options." Giles made the call to the young women's apartment and asked them to come right away. He reported that Buffy was with Willow, and that they would wait for Tara, who should be returning from class soon. The three would arrive together.
Willow hung up the phone and turned to Buffy. "That was Giles. They found a reversal ritual that Marcus' father devised. Giles wants Tara and me to help figure out the ritual." "They?" questioned Buffy. She tried not to think about a certain tall young man whose dark hair tended to fall in his face when he tilted his head down to look at her... Buffy shook herself mentally, and focused on Willow. "Him and Marcus," Willow replied. "Willow, I don't want to sound all wimpy and avoiding, but I can't go over there right now. This thing with Marcus is too ..." "Hey, it's okay," her friend sympathized. "You won't get any arguments from me about Faith the Bizarro Slayer." Willow enveloped Buffy in a comforting hug. "Thanks, Will, I needed that. Tell Giles I'll ..." started Buffy. "I'll just say you had errands to run or something," Willow told her. Buffy smiled and gave her friend another quick hug before heading out the door. While he and Marcus waited, Giles read through the pages again more carefully. Although most of the incantation was clear, some of the ritual's requirements were cryptic. He was still attempting to puzzle some of it out, forty-five minutes later, when the doorbell rang. Marcus nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the bell. Since he was already up pacing the room like a nervous cat, he answered the door. He nodded to the two witches. Buffy wasn't with them. "Hey," Willow greeted Giles. She put her bag down on the table. "What can we do to help?" asked Tara. "We found the reversal ritual." Giles looked up. "Where's Buffy?" "She, uh, had some errands," Tara said as she seated herself on the chair nearest Giles. "But the ritual," interrupted Willow excitedly. "Where was it?" "Hidden in Marcus' book," Giles muttered, intent on reading the ritual for the seventh time. "There is a description of the ritual that we need to interpret before we can perform it. I thought you two could shed some light on the text. I confess I haven't been able to make heads or tails of it." Tara glanced at Marcus. "We'll do what we can, Mr. Giles." "Here," said Giles as he stood up and handed them the pages. He took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. Willow and Tara sat together on the couch and began to read. Marcus went back to pacing while Giles went to the kitchen to make some coffee. He was in the mood for something stronger than tea. After several minutes of relative silence in the apartment, the two witches began talking quietly between themselves. Marcus couldn't hear what they were saying and he was unable to control his nervous energy any longer. "What have you found?" he asked more harshly than he intended. Tara turned her head and smiled at Marcus. "Do you realize this single ritual may undo all the transference spells your mother performed on you over the years?" "It will?" Marcus exclaimed, stunned. He had been consumed with fear that any reversal would require an equal number of rituals as the original transference. "Breathe," Tara reminded him. Deflated, but excited, Marcus sank into the chair opposite the witches, completely speechless. Tara smiled kindly at him, then turned back to studying the ritual in Willow's hands. Coffee cup in hand, the former Watcher walked into the living room. "This is a difficult and complex ritual that your father devised," said Willow. "But it should work." "Should work?" asked Marcus nervously. "We won't know for sure unless we perform the ritual. But we can only do it at the specified time and place," Willow told him. "Otherwise it won't work at all." "There is that," Giles interrupted. Looking a bit upset, he coughed softly. "I've checked the almanac already. The next full moon is ten days from now." Willow looked at him, deflated. Tara bit her lip. No one spoke. Marcus' voice, chilly with determination, broke the silence. "We can't wait that long. Figure out another ritual." Willow frowned, twisting on the sofa to look at Marcus. "We can't just go messing with the ritual willy-nilly," she replied crossly. "We'll have to figure out -" "Wait," Tara interjected. "I d-d-don't think this ritual is based on that. Marcus, when were you born? Date and time and location." "August first, nineteen-seventy-six," he said, perplexed. "Aberdeen, Scotland. I don't know what time, sorry." "It's okay," Tara said. "Mr. Giles, do you have an Ephemeris?" As Giles searched for his Ephemeris of the moon, Tara explained. "I think this ritual is based on reflecting the moon's movements according to the natal chart, and the moon spends roughly two days in each sign, so the exact time of birth isn't as important for this detail." "It also means we have more windows for when to do it," Willow said as she intuited Tara's idea. Giles looked up from the Ephemeris. "The moon was in Capricorn when Marcus was born," he announced. Willow glanced at Tara, her eyes wide. "What's the moon in now," Tara whispered, holding her breath. Giles flipped through the almanac. "Capricorn," he said. Marcus closed his eyes, his face unreadable. The two witches clasped hands, clearly elated. Willow flashed a grin at Giles, who was downing the last of his coffee with a relieved look on his face. "What about the rest of the ritual?" Giles asked. "What else do we need?" Tara picked up the sheets and perused them as she explained the rest of the ritual. "The reversal ritual must take place in an in-between place, a doorway if you will. A place and time that is neither one thing or another, yet all things." "When does the moon enter Pisces?" Willow asked Giles. He checked the almanac again. "One fifty-five in the morning." Willow squeezed her lover's hand. "The ritual has to be done at midnight. We miss this, and we have to wait three weeks before the next opportunity." Tara smiled and turned to Marcus, including Giles in her explanation. "The description is very specific, once you understand what is being said. It's as if your father knew not only when the ritual must take place, but where it needed to be performed and who needed to be involved." "How so?" asked Giles. The blonde witch glanced at the redhead, who gave her a brief nod to continue. "First of all, there is the description of the ritual place - 'the meeting of roads in this plane and across the dimensions.' A crossroads is where two roads or streets intersect, and the Hellmouth is an intersection between our dimension and the demon dimensions. Therefore, the ritual must be held at the intersection closest to the Hellmouth." "And at midnight," piped up Willow. "You know, between twilight and dawn." Tara smiled indulgently at her and went on with her explanation. "The people who must assist in the ritual are also described. 'In the position of air and of life energy stands The Fool who contains the fullness of life's potential.' That would be Xander. 'In the position of spirit and of transformation stands the one who is twice changed yet remains of themselves.' That would be Anya." "Because she changed from human to vengeance demon and back again," Giles added, wondering why he hadn't made the connection himself. " 'In the position of water and of female energy stands the mother, friend, and lover.' That's..." "Me!" interrupted Willow with a grin. "Yes, sweetie," Tara said, sharing her smile before continuing. " 'In the position of fire and of male energy stands Judgment, the father figure.' That's you, Mr. Giles. 'In the position of earth and of the energy of death stands the one who is dead yet not dead, who lives yet is not alive.' That would be Spike." "Spike?" echoed Marcus, incredulous that a vampire would be included in such a ritual. "I think your father understood far more than we have given him credit for," said Giles. "That's becoming abundantly clear," replied Marcus dryly. "But what about me..?" "It's not clear," Tara told him. "It says 'All those who embody the power of creation, destruction, and preservation must be bound within the circle of salt and stone and flame,' But I'm not sure it's Buffy." Tara hesitated. "It's Faith," finished Giles. "Faith," Marcus echoed softly. Faith. "A second slayer was called after Buffy drowned briefly, several years ago," Giles started to explain, then saw Marcus nodding. "Buffy told me already," Marcus said. Giles looked surprised, and took his glasses off to rub his eyes. Sighing, he replaced them, pushing them up with a finger and settling them into place. "They're not going to spring Faith for a midnight shindig at a burnt-out high school," Willow observed dryly. She let it go without saying that she wasn't sure she'd want Faith sprung for any reason. She glanced at Tara, who shrugged helplessly. Willow sighed. "How can we get it to work without her there in person?" She caught Marcus' bewildered expression and told him, with a little shrug, "Faith's in jail, in Los Angeles." Marcus was stunned. Jail? "Yes. That could pose a problem," mused Giles. "I've been meaning to call Wesley back." "Who's Wesley?" Marcus asked Willow and Tara as Giles looked up a number in a small book and began dialing. "Wesley is a former Watcher, like Giles. He was Buffy's Watcher for a while," Willow replied. "He works with Angel." "And Angel is...?" Marcus was completely lost. "Angel is..." Willow glanced at Tara before continuing. "Angel is a vampire. But he's got a soul, so he's one of the good guys." "Right," Marcus replied, still bewildered. Seeing his confusion, Willow launched into an explanation of the intricate relationships of the Slayer and those in her orbit. After a while, when Marcus had the names of all the players but was still a little unsure of their assigned roles, he guided the discussion back to the reversal ritual. "Why is the incantation in English rather than some arcane language?" he asked. "It is the power of the words themselves and the rhythm in which they are spoken that's important. Not the language they are written in," Tara explained. Giles hung up the phone. The other three looked at him expectantly. "Wesley thinks they can be ready for tonight. They'll call later to confirm," Giles told them. "That means we must be ready as well." Giles turned to Marcus. "Your cousins will likely try to interfere." "Most definitely," replied Marcus. |
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