Chapter 2
Mentorship and a Meeting
"Mentor?" Constantine looked at Willow over the rim of his mug. She smiled at him cheerfully, hoping that the breakfast had been nearly enough of a bribe and that his brain hadn't woken up yet. Sprawled on the sofa with pillows and a rumpled coverlet, Constantine looked like some modern-day parody of a sovereign, tithed with coffee, eggs, toast and leftover ham and sausages by an ambassador anxious to please.
: It'd give you something useful to do other than trying to drink yourself into a stupor each time you find a pub. : Meri informed him mildly.
: The last little tour I took a mentor on didn't turn out too well, did it? : He thought of Tim and all that mess the boy had managed to get into. : And I'm not what you'd call stable, luv. Maybe I could refer her… : He was beginning to sound like a bleedin' phone book. The Yellow Pages of Magic.
: Timothy Hunter's doing quite well now. :
: Well as in 'not dead', yes. He's not exactly smart – all that business with whatshername, Molly… :
: It won't hurt. Willow needs help now, and I doubt you'd be able to locate your more 'stable' associates that quickly. : Meri's tone of voice showed him what she personally thought of his associates, stable or not.
: I know. : Constantine took a sip of the coffee. Willow was sitting expectantly, looking for all the world like a normal teenager waiting for a gift, but Constantine could almost feel the magic trying to boil out of her. The lids on this one were very thin, there was power, and worst of all, she was beginning to remind him of Gemma, his niece, to whom he tried to be an uncle who would shield her from the destructive path she would walk if she attempted magic like a Constantine… The obvious difference, though, was that though Gemma had not yet chosen (he hoped), Willow had. If Gemma had chosen, then he would have done his best to guide her.
: So? : Meri pressed, still trying to drive him to a decision.
He sighed. "If you're lookin' for a one-day cure, luv, I'm not the one you're lookin' for. And if you're lookin' for some selfless sod who'd teach you to use your magic for 'the good of all' and all that, you've got to go elsewhere too."
"I'm looking for someone who can teach me control… "
Constantine snorted. "I'm not exactly in control with all of my magic here. Meri manages the actual casting for some."
: With your leave to do so, JC. :
: Why are you so interested in me gettin' this pupil? : Constantine asked suspiciously.
: Well, I like her, she's in need, and I have a feeling that if I don't get you to do something useful you'd go back to drowning yourself in beer. :
"But before you met Meri?"
"Before that," Constantine drawled, "Yeah, you could call it 'control', using magic to get money whenever I want to, sleep in hotel rooms, cure me lung cancer… "
"Lung cancer? You can cure cancer?" Buffy said from the stairs, her face deathly pale.
"Oh, Buffy!" Willow jumped up guiltily, beginning to babble. "I was just talking to…"
"Where were you when my mother was dying?" Buffy bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. "They told me magic couldn't do it! That I couldn't meddle, and now I've lost my mother! Where were you?"
"Listen to me, luv," Constantine's voice rose slightly. "You wouldn't have wanted to use my way."
"Who are you to tell me which way I can use!" Buffy's grief turned into a dangerous, consuming fury, and for a brief moment Constantine could understand why demons would quail at the approach of a Slayer. He, however, refused to be cowed.
"Listen to me." Constantine put his mug down heavily on the table, causing the dark coffee to splash out and stain the newspapers. "Come down here. Sit."
This Buffy did, sitting down next to Willow, walking almost stiffly, dashing away at the tears with the back of her hand. Willow sat, putting a comforting arm around her best friend.
"Right," Constantine sighed, wondering why he always got into such strange fixes with women, and knowing that only honesty would get him out of this one. "What I did was I sold my soul to three different Demon Princes at the same time, okay?" There were gasps from the two, but he ignored them and continued, speaking patiently, with all the air of some father figure reprimanding recalcitrant children.
This particular role felt extremely strange.
"Without any of them knowing that I'd pulled the same on the other two. Same old clause – they'd get my soul if I die. So that night I cut me wrists, and all three of them showed up. If they fought over my soul, war would come to Hell, Heaven would follow up, and then the Apocalypse, see? So they healed me – very painfully – and let me go."
"But you got healed." Buffy said stubbornly, though she wouldn't meet his eyes.
Constantine rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. It was far too early in the morning for this thing. "Nearly caused the end of the world too, luv. And it brought me no end of trouble – one of the Princes was the First of the Fallen, and 'e did away with the other two… and kept tryin' to get at me after that. Walked on a knife-edge for several years until recently."
"So. If your ma was really the type who'd have wanted to come back any way – even that way – I reckon," Constantine said carefully, if firmly, "That she wouldn't have deserved to have been healed at all." He smiled a little. Time to say something comforting. "Bit different 'bout me. Either way, I'd have gone to Hell anyway. Was just tryin' to put dyin' off. While your ma – I'm quite sure she's been off to Heaven, see?"
Buffy nodded numbly, glad that Dawn had gone off to school. "I… I understand." There was a strained pause for a moment and the outside world – birdcalls and distant conversations from neighbors, shouts down the street – filtered in. "Is there a Heaven, John Constantine?" she whispered. "Sometimes I think after this there's nothing. Just nothing, and even Hell is a waking dream."
It was definitely too early in the morning for this kind of talk, and being a comforter was a role that Constantine didn't like to play. "Seems to me, luv, that if you think there's a Heaven – then there'd be one. There're different heavens as well. Met a bloke whose heaven was a pub with great beer." He grinned. "That'd have had to be Hell for some, innit?"
"Not for you," Buffy retorted, and laughed suddenly, playful again. "Have you ever seen angels then, Constantine?"
"Yeah," Constantine reached for his coffee. "Snarky snobs. Maybe there're better ones – heard that Duma's quite decent – but I wouldn't know." He looked at Willow, who, to his dismay, didn't seem put off by the description of the rather selfish deed that he had done. The mesmerized look on her face when he talked about magic rather resembled Gemma's, in fact. Fuck. "Still want me for mentor, luv?"
"If you'd have me," Willow said hesitantly. "I don't need someone to emulate. I need someone who can teach me how to have enough mastery over my magic such that I can make my own choices – and I want to do good with it, really I do."
"Might not be able to teach you that successfully," Constantine told her.
"But you're here," Buffy said, firmly on Willow's side. Apparently she also believed her friend needed guidance – a guidance that he was not exactly qualified to give.
"It's a chance I have to take… and Meri can help, can't she?" Willow asked, appealing to him with wide eyes.
: All right, have you been speakin' to her? : Constantine turned his thought inwards skeptically.
: Would I do that? :
: Yes. :
: Well, I have been a mentor and teacher to many students of various magics in Toril. It wouldn't hurt to give you some advice. :
: That wasn't my question, luv. :
Meri replied with a mental chuckle and was silent. Irritated at her, Constantine leant back on the sofa and closed his eyes. On one hand, he rather felt like going back to London to have a look around, irritate some of his few remaining friends, get on the nerves on his expanding circle of enemies… and then again, perhaps not. Though he didn't particularly have very good memories of America – and this was far too close a spot to Hell than he would have liked, he felt some reluctance, at the moment, to move. Perhaps because here it was quite possible that the Slayer overshadowed him as a target so much that he could be able to hide for a while in peace while leading a life that had better living conditions than usual…
"Fine, I agree to be your mentor, luv – just hope you don't regret askin'." Constantine told her. Willow and Buffy smiled with relief.
"Thank you!" Willow said with a grin, then, remembering belatedly what Meri had told her, added, "Oh! I can get you some beer if you want."
"I knew there'd be advantages somewhere," John smirked.
"No drinking in this house," Buffy said firmly. "It'd stink."
"We could take him Bronzing today," Willow suggested. "They've got beer there."
"But we're going to watch… "
"I know, we could get him a ticket too… "
"At this time?"
"I was going to book before lunch."
"At the cinema?"
"No, on the 'Net… though we'd have to pay…"
"Paying's fine, Will, I just got my latest 'allowance' cheque from the Council."
"Remind me to thank Giles for persuading them to turn Slaying into a paying job."
Constantine, feeling slightly dazed, watched the two girls chatter to themselves animatedly without allowing him a word in edgeways, and considered falling asleep again. He almost wished he hadn't taken on the new responsibility, for he had a feeling that nothing good would come of it.
**
It was morning outside, and Nalfein was feeling tired from the night's exertions. It'd turned out that he had black luck with choosing accommodations – this one had housed some more vampires. They apparently bred like rothe in this world – but at least if one killed them they crumbled into dust instead of leaving messy bodies. As a precaution, he'd burned the contents of the other tombs in this crypt before going back to drawing out his wards.
He'd questioned one of the vampires, but they'd never heard of anything that could have been a key of such energy here, though there was a magic shop around this place somewhere which he made a note to look in. Perhaps it'd have surfacer spellbooks, something which Underdark mages were always interested in – or even better, spells never before heard of, unique to this world. The problem was that it opened only in the daytime, and direct sunlight still hurt his eyes, though it was barely tolerable even with the new spell.
Whether he could find the key or not in there wasn't particularly of overwhelming importance, since in the instructions there was another source where he could pry it from – some human monks that lived somewhere in this place – though he had a feeling that he'd have to fight a mage-battle against them, and he was not sure of their strength.
The other vampire, before Nalfein had lost patience and used magic to set him aflame, had said something more useful about there being sewers that connected buildings under the city, and more importantly, had shown him where he could find a map.
Nalfein sighed, and, making himself as comfortable as possible near the components, set his staff on guard and went to sleep. It'd be a problem that he'd look at more closely later, when the sun's glare was not so cruel.
**
Spike, stalking in the sewers aimlessly, was looking for trouble. He had found it several times, but so far he'd only managed to cool off, and was considering trying to cultivate some form of friendship in Constantine. Making the best of the bad job – if Buffy openly accepted Constantine, it'd serve him better in his eyes if he attempted, at least, to be civil. He rather regretted yesterday's outbursts, in that effect – the cold, closed look in Buffy's eyes when he had made his last appeal was especially painful.
He knew Constantine was dangerous, but he, of all people, a Master vampire only recently and rather unwillingly beginning to fight by the Slayer's side, should have given the poor sod a chance. At least he'd known Constantine had done some good in his life, scattered in between all the unbelievable deeds of betrayal, blackmail and the gods knew what else. What good had he, William the Bloody, done, for more than a century, until he had met Buffy? It was quite possible that for most of the deeds that Constantine had committed, he, Spike, had also committed equivalents.
And in Constantine, at least, was the closest person so far in Sunnydale, other than perhaps the Nibblet, that he could identify with, in terms of likings, philosophy – hell, even speech patterns. Since there was no way he could get Constantine to sod off unless Buffy thought he was to go, he might as well try to get closer to him – all the easier to see if there was any act of treachery that could be incoming.
Spike shook his head irritably. What was he thinking? Constantine had said he would leave today. Though it didn't really hurt to be cautious…
He rounded a slimy corner, distracted by thoughts, and nearly bumped into a hooded figure in dark robes levitating a foot or so above the ground. Startled, he leaped backwards, and the figure also seemed to do a double-take, hand clutching an ornate dragon staff more tightly. With some dismay, Spike realized the hand looked human, so if this thing – whatever it was – was hostile, then he, Spike, would have to run away instead of fight. What was worse, the thing looked like a magus.
Hopefully he'd be able to scare it away – so he went into game face, the bumps and ridges and feral-yellow eyes appearing as his demon came forth. As usual, this release of control to his demon made him feel very… aggressive, and he growled.
This did not have the effect that he'd hoped for. The figure seemed to sigh in resignation, and spoke in an unfamiliar, musical tongue. "Mzild del dos!" He raised his free hand, chanting words too quick to catch in the same language, then flicked his wrist.
Spike, recognizing the start of a spell once the whatever-it-was had started chanting, had already started running back where he came from, cursing his luck and praying to whatever gods may be listening that it wasn't a holding spell. He dared not attempt to attack the thing, because if it were human the shock from his chip with the no-attacking-humans clause might render him incapable of running, with the pain.
None too soon – behind him he heard the crackle of flame and the hiss as it hit the water, and on instinct he leaped to the side and continued to run as fast as he could. A bolt of light crackled past him, sizzling in the air, and Spike ducked into a side tunnel quickly. He took many routes and kept changing directions until he was quite sure that there was no pursuit, then paused to catch his breath.
Looking around, he realized he was near the Magic Box's back entrance. Hopefully he'd be able to get in without frying in the sun and get some help.
All thoughts of Constantine, for the moment, forgotten, he got up a ladder to a manhole and pushed.
**
To Buffy's surprise, Giles had not objected to Willow asking Constantine to be her mentor, and his acceptance. Though still wary of him, Giles had grudgingly accepted Constantine for the time being, and was rather gratified that he had shown not only interest in the shop but considerable knowledge in the things sold. From the table, Giles was watching Constantine with benign astonishment that was almost comic as the magus flirted outrageously with every female who entered the shop and nudged them, inexorably, to buy something harmless. Most of the girls probably had just come in out of curiosity without any intention to spend money. Polite attempts to decline had been met with more flattery of both the girls and the prospective goods; suggestion of uses, jokes, and finally the girl would capitulate in good-humor to his rather masterful manipulation.
Anya, of course, had warmed to him for this, and grinned wickedly whenever Constantine winked at her over another buying customer. She wondered if she could persuade Giles to pay Constantine to be a salesman.
"Okay, we got tickets for the six o' clock Lord of the Rings show and we can go get a late dinner after that," Willow said happily, leaning back from her seat. "Eight tickets."
"Xander, Anya, Giles, Me, You, Dawn and Constantine makes seven, Will," Buffy said, frowning.
"I know – Dawn told me to get one more for…"
"Slayer!" Spike burst into the room from behind, wild-eyed and obviously agitated. "There's something in… "
"Oh be quiet, Spike," Anya smiled reassuringly at customers. "You're scaring people away."
Spike glanced at her, opened his mouth, then shut it again and slumped down on a chair at the table. Buffy wrinkled her nose. "You've been walking around in the sewers again."
"Yeah, I was goin' to say I saw somethin' in it," Spike said, a little annoyed at the disapproval, even though it was deserved. "A mage."
"Constantine's been here all day," Willow said quickly. Hearing the sound of his name, Constantine abandoned his flattery of a pretty brunette and wandered over to the table.
"I didn't say it was him," Spike said irritably. "This bloke wore a hood and black robes…"
"Ooh, Nazgul!" Willow subsided when everyone glanced at her. "Sorry."
Spike, having been forced to read the book at Drusilla's instigation several years ago when his Black Queen was crazy over it, rolled his eyes and ignored the witch. "The thing had black skin and human hands, and held some tacky staff that resembles a dragon. It said something like 'Mzild del dos' – then started flingin' lightnin' bolts at me."
"Are you sure it said that?" Constantine asked, a horrible suspicion forming inside him. Black skin…
"Yeah." Spike said simply, not wishing to say anything else that would imply any suspicion of Constantine in this affair.
"You've heard it before?" Giles looked to Constantine, who frowned.
"Not the words, but the language." Constantine replied absently. "Bloody hell. I'd go find out."
"How?" Willow asked, hoping that Constantine was going to perform some magic. He hadn't actually done any teaching so far. "Where?"
"There's summat I can ask in the Dreamin'," Constantine replied, looking extremely disturbed. "I think I'd go there for a bit."
"The Dream King?" Giles asked worriedly.
"No – some other bloke."
"How are you going to get into this Dreaming thing?" Buffy said, feeling that the conversation was getting away from her again. Looking at Spike, she saw the same confusion and the same willingness to act on the advice of those before her, and there was a sudden, strange moment of affinity. He glanced at her suddenly with those beautiful ice blue eyes, but she quickly looked away.
"Magic, luv." Constantine grinned, then he addressed Willow. "Want to tag along?"
"Of course!" Willow fairly bounced to her feet. "Unless they need me with the researching here…"
"If I'm correct, this thing isn't from this world, and you probably won't find it in your books, luv." Constantine looked around, took his trenchcoat from where it was draped on a chair, then started for the closed door to the training room, putting on the garment at the same time. "Comin'?"
"It's close by?" Giles asked, confused, following them, as well as Buffy and Spike.
"Could be." Constantine said, recovering some of his normal annoying insouciance, opened the door, took Willow's hand, then they both stepped into it, and vanished.
**
Willow gasped in surprise and pleasure when they emerged into a forest with large, ancient trees that towered above them like so many benevolent giants. The air was crisp and cool, and there were silver pools of light on the ground, as if the moon had gained in its brilliance and sought to imitate the Sun itself. The forest was alive with a symphony of sound – mostly chirps from insects and the burps of far-off frogs, and sometimes the rustle of leaves far above them. Further away there were occasional clearings where the silver light washed down onto the ground unchecked by the giants, like some scene cut right out of fantasy. She half-expected to find unicorns and tinkling waterfalls, or pixies flying out of the trees. There was little undergrowth, but the humus under her feet smelled earthy and salubrious.
"Is this the Dreaming?" she asked Constantine, nearly drunk at the sight.
"Part of it," Constantine replied, pushing his hands into his pockets as he got his bearings, then whistled sharply twice. He waited until the echoes drifted away, then spoke again. "We're off to get us a guide." He did not, however, move.
"Do we come to this place each time we dream?" Willow asked, putting her hands on the nearest tree. The bark was rough and scratchy under her palms, and it certainly felt real.
"To different parts of it, and not all look like this place," Constantine said, leaning against one of the trees. "But when you dream, you go to the Dreamin'. Sometimes if you're lucky you'd meet the Dream King, but usually when you wake you won't remember."
"Who are we looking for?" Willow felt slightly embarrassed at asking so many questions, but Constantine seemed to have no objections to it.
"Other than the guide? Friend of mine." Constantine said easily, leaving out the bit that the 'friend' might not be too pleased to see him again.
"Oh." Willow's eyes tried to pierce the depths of the forest as she framed her next question. "Can we all just enter the Dreaming this way, or is there a spell?" When Constantine didn't reply immediately, she launched off again. "Because this is really beautiful, and… "
"Normally you can't, unless invited or dreamin'. I'm an exception – did somethin' for the Dream King once, and he allows me to seek sanctuary here whenever I need it."
A dark shadow suddenly seemed to detach itself from behind Constantine's tree and rub itself against his legs, purring happily. Willow blinked, and the shadow was now a large black panther – the same one she'd seen in the warehouse. Constantine rubbed its ears affectionately. "This panther's Guenhwyvar or Guen. Our guide." The panther glanced up at him steadily. "We need to find Zaknafein," he told it.
Shaking itself, as if shrugging, it began to lope off into the forest, and they followed it.
**
"Bloody hell!" Spike voiced the general feelings of the trio as they stared at the door. Holding his spectacles, Giles walked through it tentatively, then, as he did not disappear, walked back through.
"Giles, where have they gone?" Buffy appealed to him, nearly resembling, at that moment, a very young girl asking questions of her father, her youth convincing her of his omniscience.
"The Dreaming, he said," Giles attempted to be reassuring.
"Is it safe?" Buffy pressed on with questions.
"S'long as he doesn't go into the nightmare bits," Spike muttered, but Buffy had heard this and her eyes widened.
"Giles!"
"There is no way we can follow her," Giles said, feeling irritated at Constantine's callous manner. "We'd have to hope they would be safe, since he has agreed to be her mentor, I doubt he'd allow harm to come to her if he could help it."
"Mentor?" Spike looked even more confused now. Constantine was Willow's mentor now? That was news that he could not decide if it were good or ill – it would mean that Constantine would not be leaving today – but if he had inspired that much trust in still-unstable spell-caster… The vampire reminded himself of his resolve to be friendly, and controlled his features so as not to show any resentment of the fact.
"Yes," Giles nodded at the vampire, a little curtly. "Now, I think we could make ourselves more useful by going through the… the books. Maybe there's something about this mage inside it."
"Maybe he was just reacting to Spike going all 'Grr'," Buffy suggested. "May not be a evil thing."
"Constantine looked a bit worried when I described it, luv," Spike reminded her.
"Yeah… " Buffy sighed, rather unwilling to agree with the vampire, but had to do so due to prudence. She looked at the shelves of books, and decided. "All right. Research-Buffy mode." She paused. "I wonder who Willow got the eighth movie ticket for."
--
Notes and References:
Mzild del dos: More of you
