Purplegrrl | Marcus had borrowed Giles' car to give Tara and Willow a ride back to the campus. Giles observed, with some amusement, that Buffy appeared only moments later. While Giles made tea, Buffy crossed to the table, leisurely pulling out one of the papers covered with Marcus' translations. His handwriting really is atrocious, she thought, amused. Those Tudor guys taught him to dance but they couldn't teach him penmanship. "So how does this thing work," she asked, and ruffled through the notes. "The ritual will draw the Slayer energy out of Marcus and return it to the rightful lineage," he told her, taking the papers. "Ooh, a present for me," Buffy replied. "No. Faith." "Why her?" "Because she is the one who will call the next Slayer. Not you." "I try not to think about it." Giles hesitated a moment, taking off his glasses and putting them back on again before continuing. "You know, without your advantages, you could have been Faith," he reprimanded her gently. "What advantages? Fighting vampires and whatever other demon vacations on the Hellmouth or decides to make a name for themselves by taking on the Slayer? My nearly total lack of a social life? The boyfriends who leave as soon as dating the Slayer becomes too tough of a gig? That normal is no longer a word in my vocabulary? How many more times do I have to die to prove what advantages I don't have?" Buffy snapped, clearly not interested in listening to reason. "And now it's 'poor Faith?' " "You have your friends, your family, Angel, Riley, and ...me," he told her calmly. "You're probably the first Slayer in history to demand some semblance of a normal life. As unorthodox as it may be, it has worked to your advantage. You have not had to face the darkness alone." Buffy opened her mouth to speak, and promptly shut it again. She wasn't willing to concede his point, yet. "But," she started. Giles just looked at her, giving her one of those looks that only parents, and Watchers, could achieve. Buffy snorted and threw up her hands. "Jeesh! How can I be all Self-absorbed Girl with you looking at me like that?" "Perhaps it's time you dealt with your animosity towards Faith." "I don't want to have animal tea with her," she retorted. She was rewarded with another of those looks. The Slayer matched the Watcher's steely gaze with one of her own. She deliberately spoke slowly to make sure Giles understood her. "She attempted to frame me for murder. She put the moves on my boyfriend. Several boyfriends, actually. She tried to kill me. And when that failed, she tried to become me," Buffy reminded Giles. "Those are not the sorts of things a girl just forgets about." "Faith is paying for at least some of her mistakes." "And that makes everything okay?" asked Buffy in disbelief. Giles thought for a moment before responding. "No, I suppose it doesn't. But it is a step in the right direction." "Just as long as that direction is away from me." Giles took off his glasses. "Then you're probably not going to want to hear what I have to tell you." "What's that?" Sitting on the couch, he indicated the coffee table covered with books and papers. "What I've read in Charles' diaries indicates that the stolen energy must be properly returned. Right now, that energy is unstable. It is bound neither to its source nor to Marcus. That situation must be remedied. Either Marcus needs to be sealed off from the Slayer energy so that it can be allowed to renew itself or, preferably, the stolen energy needs to be returned to the source." Buffy plopped herself down in the wingback chair. "I'm still not sure how Faith figures into all of this." "When you died fighting the Master, the Slayer energy branched. After Xander revived you, you remained a Slayer. But you were no longer directly part of the active Slayer line. That passed to Kendra and then to Faith," Giles explained patiently. "And even though she is currently incarcerated, Faith is the conduit to the Slayer energy. She is the one to whom the stolen energy must be returned." "Well, that makes me feel like something green and fuzzy at the back of the fridge. I'm the one who's out there fighting evil night after night and she's the one who gets the toy surprise. What am I supposed to do, stand around and hold her cape?" Buffy asked angrily. "No," said Giles, shaking his head. "It's more than just being a stand-in for Faith. You must open yourself up to her. Allow the stolen energy to flow through you back to Faith." Buffy stood up and began to pace the living room. "I don't know if I can do that. What she did to me, to Angel, to my friends?" She shook her head as if to clear the images from her mind. "Did Wesley ever tell you how Faith tortured him?" "Yes," replied Giles quietly. "A manner remarkably similar to how Angelus tortured me," he added under his breath. Behind him, Buffy turned, then thought better of responding. She renewed her pacing. "I still don't think I can do it," she repeated. "You're going to have to let go of your anger and pain." Giles replied, unperturbed. "You're going to have to give Faith some measure of forgiveness." "She doesn't deserve it." "Buffy," said Giles gently. "We've had this discussion before. You don't forgive someone because they deserve it, but because they need it." "I know, I know. It's just so ..." she tried to explain. Buffy sat back down in the chair. "I know this is hard for you. If there were any other way, I wouldn't ask you to do this. But there is simply no way Faith can be physically present at the ritual." "Why would she have to be there anyway?" "We have to make sure the stolen energy is directed back to the correct source. Not just allowed to go out into the ether," explained Giles. Buffy ran her hands through her hair, still trying to get everything straight in her mind. After a while, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs and her chin in her hands. She looked at her Watcher. "What'll happen if we don't do this reversal thingy at all?" "Marcus will die. In fact, he may be dying already. His spirit will not be able to withstand the imbalance much longer. A year or two at the most." Giles paused, looking away from Buffy, his expression openly regretful at the harsh words. "Leaving him as he is because you don't want to help Faith is, in effect, signing his death warrant." Buffy felt a sudden surge of sadness for Marcus. We do this, and even if he survives, he won't be the same. What I felt, it'll be gone. He'll be... a regular person. Everything I used to want. Would I take that chance now? She was silent for a minute. "So we perform the ritual, and it's all peachy," she finally said out loud. "No." Giles removed his glasses and stared at them for a moment before putting them back on. "The original transference rituals were very demanding on Marcus, physically and emotionally. I expect the reversal will be equally so. The, uh, cumulative effect may be too much for him. There is a chance that Marcus may not survive the rituals." "So we're damned if we do and damned if we don't," Buffy said, dismayed. "That's one way of looking at it. Marcus appears willing to take that risk. He has hardly expressed interest in remaining a target for his cousins' ambitions," Giles observed dryly. "And I just need to get with the program? Is that what you're saying?" "Umm, not in so many words." "Come on, Giles. We've been through this enough times. I balk, you explain, I pout, and then we all do what needs to be done." "So, you'll do the reversal ritual?" "I'll do it for Marcus." "There's more to it than that." She sighed. "Yeah, I know. That's the part I need to psyche myself up for." |
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Dawn scanned the small coffee shop. Her face lit up when she saw Simon. He smiled back at her and motioned her over. She set her backpack down on her chair, and jerked her head at the counter, indicating she was going to get a drink. Simon got her meaning, and nodded, smiling. |
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I think I need a change of scenery She realized she was singing out loud, and went red from her neck to the roots of her hair. "You have a beautiful voice. You should use it more often... Other then to scream at your sister," he added, teasing. "Thanks," she whispered sheepishly "What do you want to do?" "Whatever you want," Dawn replied, and beamed at him. "I asked you first," Simon said shyly, reaching to touch her hand. "I told you whatever you wanna do." "I want to hear you sing some more," he said. Dawn pretended she didn't hear him. |
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Anya flew into the main room of the Magic Box before the outside door had closed, the bell still tinkling softly. The expectant look on her face reserved for customers morphed into a genuine smile when she saw who the visitor was. Tara was caught off-guard when Anya grabbed her in a quick affectionate hug. "An-Anya, hi to you too," Tara choked out, shocked by the unprecedented display of affection from the girl. "Remember that huge ugly mustard-colored statue?" "Uh, the huge ugly-" "Odin," Anya repeated. Ignoring Tara's confused headshake, she continued chattering happily. "It's been here for as long as I can remember. Such an eyesore. I marked it down 75% last week to get rid of it, which I know loses money, but I was so sick of looking at it. Some old fogie comes in this morning. Here for an hour and wasn't buying anything. But on his way out the door, he noticed it. Tells me he's been looking everywhere for a statue like that and then says one hundred forty-nine dollars, right?" Anya paused, and shrugged nonchalantly. "It's not my fault that sign fell off." Tara took advantage of the pause to quickly hand Anya the list of items. The shop keeper's eyes narrowed at the mention of the expensive sphere of Elämä, but visibly brightened when Tara brought a wad of bills out of her pocket and laid them on the counter. "Is Elämä getting popular again?" Anya asked. "I sold a sphere last month. Hadn't run across that cult since I was-" "W-w-we found a ritual to undo Marcus," Tara interjected. "I mean, to undo the Slayer energy in him. It's tonight, we're meeting behind the old High School at eleven-thirty. We'll need you and Xander there," she added. "Oh, not giving me much time to track you down one, are you," Anya mused, tapping her finger on the list as she thought. "The one I sold was on back order for months with that Swedish company with the funny name." Tara furrowed her brows and looked at the list in Anya's hand. "It's necessary, we can't…" Her voice trailed off as she realized Anya was walking away. "I'll call the woman that bought it, she made a special order yesterday so I have her number here somewhere. She might loan it to us," Anya replied, already picking up the phone. Flustered, Tara could only nod while Anya made the phone call. After politely explaining the situation, Anya flashed Tara a thumb's-up sign, then said her goodbyes and hung up the phone. "You know, the thumbs-up sign is actually backwards," Anya commented as she helped Tara collect the rest of the items and began wrapping the more delicate ones. "I mean, it's a little before my time, but I heard that thumbs-up actually meant death." Amused by this twist on a familiar expression, Anya continued prattling about the strange gestures she'd seen in her time as a demon. Tara waited patiently until Anya finally took a breath. "Could you please add a couple amethyst crystals too," Tara asked hesitantly, hoping she had enough money for everything. Sometimes she really missed Giles not being at the shop everyday. "Willow still getting the nosebleeds?" Anya finished bagging the supplies and looked up at Tara with a concerned expression. Tara nodded as Anya wrote up the slip and figured out the change. "Well, you give her a hug for us, you know, me and Xander." Tara, smiled back at Anya, amazed once again. She pocketed the few pennies of change, remembering the not-so-distant past when Willow and the ex-demon could barely tolerate each other. Hefting the shopping bag, Tara gave Anya her sincere thanks as she left the shop. |
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Simon pulled his hand away and looked down at the table. "You know, I just wanted to say 'Thank you' to Buffy. But now I have trouble remembering she's the reason I'm here." Simon glanced sideways at Dawn, his green eyes catching the late afternoon light coming in through the shop's wide windows. "I keep getting distracted." "Distracted?" Dawn frowned, bewildered. She realized his meaning when she noticed his solemn expression was marred by the way a corner of his mouth kept turning up, making a dimple flash in his cheek. Dimples are definitely a major plus, she decided. "Oh. Well, good. Cause I'm glad you came. I like you." He raised his eyes to hers. He could see by the fierce expression on her face that she meant what she said. He tentatively took her hand again. "Cool, cause then I'd feel stupid liking you if you weren't liking me back." "You dork." She made a face at him. They fell silent, and Simon sipped his drink while Dawn went back to mixing the whipped cream into her drink. She was about to take a sip when Simon pulled something out of his pocket. "Um, Dawn? Here." She took the small object from his hand and gasped when she saw it was his ring. "Simon, but..." He shook his head, insisting, and she slid the silver band onto her thumb, the only finger it fit. "I want you to have it," he whispered. "Thank you, again. I love it." He leaned down and grabbed his backpack. "You up for walking? I was thinking you could give me a tour." She laughed. "A tour! Of Sunnydale? That'd take all of fifteen minutes." She stopped as she saw Simon freeze, his eyes widening as he looked towards the door. Dawn looked over her shoulder at the full coffee shop. "Simon, what's wrong?" |
| Simon glanced back at Dawn, his eyes wide as the old sensation washed over him. "Those two guys – I could've sworn... oh, never mind, must've imagined it." He tried to shake off the feeling they'd given him, or that they reminded him of the guards in Hell. "Imagined what?" Dawn asked, her curiosity piqued. "Shh... they're coming this way." As he said it, a shadow fell across the table, and Dawn looked up to see a tall man standing at her shoulder. Another had moved around to stand behind Simon. "We were just going," she said to them. "You want our table, you only have to ask." As she spoke, she rose, and experienced a feeling of relief when the man at her side moved back a step. Simon stood, and moved over to Dawn, placing a hand on her arm. Dawn pushed the coffee shop's door open, grimacing at the drizzle that had started while they were inside. Simon nudged her as she held the door open for him, and she risked a glance behind her. The two men were heading back towards the door. The teenagers looked at each other apprehensively, and Simon tugged Dawn's backpack off her shoulders as she ducked her head against the rain. He ignored her surprised look as he slung the bag over his shoulders, putting his arms through the straps and tightening it quickly as he nodded for her to start walking. They'd reached the corner, and the two men were only a few paces behind them. Simon slid his hand down her arm and gripped Dawn's hand, twining his fingers with hers. Leaning his head towards her, he spoke quietly, hardly moving his lips. "Dawn, I don't like the look of these guys. What say we make for your house?" She nodded imperceptibly. "Sure. Walk faster." She jerked her head to let Simon know the direction as the two men drew level with them, crowding them into the wall. "Hey!" Dawn said, indignant. "What are you doing?" For the first time, one of the men spoke. He had a strange accent, not American, not British. Dawn couldn't place it. "You must come with us." The man's gaze flickered back and forth between Dawn and Simon. His partner didn't say anything, but nodded imperceptibly. His tongue darted out and he licked his lips. Dawn shivered. "Who the hell are you?" Simon demanded fiercely. He shoved the nearer man, and pulled Dawn past them. "Run!" he cried. Dawn didn't need to hear it twice. Before the two men could react, the two teenagers were sprinting down the street, holding tightly to each other's hands. Their pursuers soon recovered from their surprise and were in full chase. The fitful drizzle was turning into a harder rain. Within minutes, both teenagers were soaking wet but paid it no mind, focused on getting away from the two men. They zigzagged madly across the emptying streets and back again, earning themselves raised fists and irate hoots from the few drivers out at that time of the evening. Simon's longer legs were leading the way, and Dawn struggled to keep up. "Where... are we... going?" Dawn gasped. "Hell if I know!" came the reply, as Simon tore around the next corner and across towards a swing park he could see a few hundred yards away. "I know I asked for a tour of Sunnydale," he added, "but... this wasn't exactly... what I had... in mind!" Dawn couldn't help giving a gasping laugh. All thought of laughter fled, though, when she glanced over he shoulder and saw not two men, as she expected, behind them, but at least six wolf-like creatures, large, silver-gray animals, who were loping after them, panting and growling. "Oh, God, Simon! Those men... they aren't!" "What?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder as he ran. "Geez... Dawn, for God's sake, run faster!" |
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