Chapter 4

My world

"What happened?" Buffy gave voice to the foremost question in her thoughts.

Constantine took a deep breath to calm himself. "Willow here just invoked the power of a Elder Goddess who still, incidentally, exists. Gods are a tenacious lot – most of the pantheons still endure even though most of their worshippers are gone. Their spells always have side effects. Bloody hell, why did I ever agree to get involved with you lot?"

"But she scared him off," Xander said, defending his friend.

"And I've asked spells of Gods before… Hecate, Freyja, Isis, Diana and all that," Willow stammered when she saw Constantine's expression darken further, like a worsening storm. "What's… what's wrong?"

"Ah hell! Now I see the bleedin' problem," Constantine muttered. "Willow, luv – when you ask them for power, they give you the power, but in return they get just a little bit of a hold on your soul, see?"

"No… " Willow looked confused.

"Your soul is somethin' that controls your actions, gets your brain workin', see?" Constantine spoke patiently, though it was obvious that the patience was strained.

"No wait, I thought a soul's something that makes you do good and lets you love and such?" Buffy interrupted.

"Bloody friggin' hell. Where do you lot come from?" Constantine ground out his cigarette with his heel with a bit more force than he'd intended. "Can we do this indoors, luv?"

Eventually, when they were in the Magic Box and had realized that other than a few spellbooks, nothing else was missing – not even the cash in the register, they'd settled down. With the exception of Anya, who kept muttering "Thief!" under her breath, darkly and looking at the shelves.

"First. Do you think angels have souls, luv?" Constantine decided he really had to lead them through this one slowly. "Since they can 'love and such'?"

"Yes… "

"Lucifer Morningstar was an angel."

"Maybe he lost his soul going down to Hell," Buffy disagreed.

Constantine snorted. "Let's try humans, then. Humans have souls, yes?"

"Yes… "

"Hitler had a soul, yes?" When Buffy didn't reply, Constantine pressed his advantage. "If not Hitler… then those common murderers? Those kids who went around shootin' kids in their own schools? Or all the people in the Medieval Age, who burned 'suspected witches' at the stake alive, or put them in barrels studded with nails, or… "

"But they could love!" Buffy insisted. Constantine had no idea why this was so important to her, and said so.

"So what's your point, luv? What's wrong with not bein' able to love? Does that make you evil? What do you mean by love? D'you mean that if you have a soul, you're not evil?"

Helpless, Buffy's eyes dropped to the table, unable to answer the questions, and fixating on the last one. If she said that yes, no soul equaled evil, then she would have to agree that throughout mankind, there had been no evil deeds, because it was clear that souls inhabited human bodies. If she said no, no soul did not equate evil, then… then what? Why was she even arguing this point?

Angel, it was Angel, wasn't it? Something that had made his change to Angelus tolerable, and Angelus' attitude towards her acceptable in her mind, was her desperate grasping of the idea that Angel with a soul was different from Angelus without one, and Angelus, without a soul, could not have loved her. And she remembered Dawn telling her once that Spike – soulless Spike – loved her. How could he love her when Angelus did not, and Angel had not loved her enough to stay?

"Then what's the difference between having a soul and not having one?" Buffy asked in a small voice.

"If you don't have a soul, luv, you're effectively brain dead," Constantine leaned back in his chair. "S'why vampires need a demon in them. It acts like a soul – 'cept that it gives them a natural lust for blood and violence, but that's 'bout it. It doesn't automatically make you go out and do things you lot term 'evil'. Sometimes I ain't sure if angels and demons actually do have souls – maybe what they are makes it unnecessary for them to have it. To me, they're all the same, just under different governments. The way I see it – good and evil's a choice you can keep makin'."

Buffy decided her only way out, without revealing to Constantine why she was so interested in the subject, was to change the subject. "So what does this have to do with Will?" Willow flinched in her chair, and the attention of everyone turned to her – except for Spike's, who had guessed why Buffy had asked the question, and was marveling at the fact that she had not stormed out in tears, or tried to leave.

"How many of the Elder have you called on before, Willow?" Constantine stared at Willow. "Scratch that. How many different pantheons have you called on? Norse, Greek, all that."

"Er… er…" Willow started counting with trembling hands, then found she couldn't recall all of them.

"There was at least five before you stopped," Constantine sighed. "So there's a lot of Gods who have a hold on your soul. Or 'control' on your soul, if you'd rather – and this control extends to what you do, see?"

Willow did see, and now understood why she was so drawn to magic, to give more and more of herself to spells and rituals, to call on a greater and greater variety of deities, sampling all the different flavors of arcane power. It was not a question on her self-discipline after all, was it?

"Can she stop?" Giles adjusted his glasses worriedly. Something about his manner suggested shame, as though the older man regretted his lack of knowledge that could have prevented Willow from falling to this state. "Call back control to… to herself again?"

"I don't know," Constantine said honestly. "I can ask around. I can tell you this – Willow, you're the only, bloody stupid person I've ever known who called on so many different Elder Gods freely – not even from the same damn pantheon – for power. It's why you've got so much of it I can feel it leakin' out from here – but soon it'd burn you out."

"Can you find a cure before it does?" Xander asked anxiously. Willow permitted herself a tiny smile – even when she was a danger to them, her friends were rallying.

"I can ask too," Spike volunteered. "Got contacts, demon world."

"And the rest of us can look in the books," Buffy chipped in. "Or go try and see where this elf is, so maybe we can remove the spell."

"One question. What were you saying about Aphrodite?" Anya asked curiously. When everyone looked at her, Anya grinned and continued. "She's a friend of mine. Could say that at one time we had an agreement. The vengeance business was very closely tied to hers."

"So what is a likely side effect of calling on her?" Constantine asked patiently.

"Love, I suppose," Anya shrugged. "She wasn't one for creating hate and all that. It sort of lessens her power, and she didn't find the other emotions like sorrow and all that interesting." Anya grinned at Xander. "Though lust, on the other hand…"

"Not now, Ahn," Xander said placatingly.

"Oh gods!" Willow clapped her hand to her mouth. "What have I done?"

"You can hope that it didn't work, luv," Constantine said dryly, "But somethin' made the elf run off, and I doubt all of us actually could frighten him, since the general opinion of them dark elves is that humans have the approximate value and ability of snails. And you asked for a spell of understandin', not for intimidation."

Buffy and Spike looked at each other. Buffy spoke first. "So there's going to be a repeat of that 'Let my Will be Done' business?" She glared at Spike, daring him to speak, but he simply grinned at her.

"I didn't think there was anything wrong with that spell," Dawn blurted out from where she had been quietly listening to everyone.

"Dawnie…" Buffy said warningly.

"I found a lot wrong with having demons chasing after me everywhere," Xander pointed out. "There's only one demon-girl for me… " He and Anya exchanged fond looks. Dawn mimed being sick out of their sight.

**

Nalfein was breathing heavily when he re-entered the dubious safety of his crypt, giving his wards only a minimal check before going down the stairs, nearly stumbling in his haste, then sitting down next to the components and closing his eyes. He tried to push his mind into the calming depths of meditation, but alluring images of the human female mage, with her fiery hair, kept breaking his concentration.

Damnation! She had certainly done something to him to make him feel this way, and it was quite likely that it had not totally worked, since he was aware that something had been done to warrant this abrupt torrent of emotions made all the more acute for their unfamiliarity. Or perhaps he had just been overtrained as a mage, or that being a Mage Lord had its advantages.

There was one certainty – he had to see the female again. To drown in her green eyes that seemed so full of cheer and innocence, so fascinating because of their lack in his life and the society he had come from - her face seeming all the more attractive to him without the icy, sculpture-like perfection of elven features. To taste those soft, red lips – no doubt they would put all the wine he had ever tasted to shame, or any other delicacy… To make her scream for him under the night as he took her… or perhaps if she would make him…

Nalfein shuddered convulsively, and bit his lip. He had to try a dispelling spell before the images consumed him. Trying to call on his teachings, that humans were of a status worse than slaves, a species inferior both in intellect, appearance, life-lengths and accomplishments – hadn't managed to cool his ardor, and he was getting desperate.

He tried all the dispelling spells he was aware of until he exhausted himself, but nothing had worked. It was almost as if there was some entity on this world that was preventing him from doing so, and he was trying to bring down an impenetrable adamantite wall with little pebbles. Wearily, Nalfein retraced his wards, not even retaining the strength to recast the sunlight-sight spell on himself, and, slumping down onto the ground, slept like a stone, dreaming tortured dreams.

**

[Dear Diary,]

Willow paused in her writing to gather her thoughts, looking with unseeing eyes out into the darkness from her window. She was seated at Joyce's old desk in Joyce's old room, guilt-stricken, even though…

[Today I messed up yet another spell while trying to impress. I am so pathetic. I think I may have made someone fall in love with me – though love must be rather worthless indeed if it can be commanded this way. Still, I now suppose all those stories about love philters and spells must have some backing behind them, if the Gods can so easily mess with this strongest of emotions.

I'm in deep trouble, certainly. I was going to call on Aphrodite again to cancel her work, but Constantine gave me such a comically incredulous look that I nearly laughed at him.

"Call on an Elder to do somethin' that would lessen her power? Luv, did your ma drop you on your head when you were a kid?"

I asked him whether I could ask another God to undo it, or just try to undo it without any God-help, and he sighed at me and asked me if I had been listening to him about what calling on Gods would do to my soul. "The less the better, luv – and I doubt they can actually cancel another's dirty work, 'ey?" Also, he told me to stop thinking that magic could solve every 'single bleedin' problem', and reminded me that usually magic created its own 'bleedin' problems'.

Went on to say something about how if it was such an all-healing antidote, mages would have used it long ago to heal the Ozone layer, clean up pollution, radiation, poverty, AIDS, and make 'soddin' peace on earth'. He's right, and I hate that he's right.

No one's sure what to do now. It's all such a mess! We don't know what the mage is here for, or why he had broken into the Magic Box, unless it was only for the spellbooks, but Constantine said he doubted that the mage would cross worlds just for spellbooks, and even Giles had said he didn't think those books were actually extremely powerful. He keeps all the powerful ones somewhere safer, and none of those were missing.

We don't know if we can cancel Aphrodite's spell. Giles suggested asking Aphrodite nicely instead of demanding, but Constantine sneered at that and said that her response to 'please' and 'thank you very much' would still be 'No', though there might be a few 'sincerely' and maybe 'faithfully-bloody-yours' somewhere around. I don't know which to listen to. Constantine is my mentor now, but Giles has always been my voice of guidance. I think I have to trust Constantine.

I didn't even intend for it to happen! It had been listed as a translation spell – Giles and Constantine looked at the spellbook and agreed there wasn't any warning about side effects, but Spike had said that the Goddess' name was enough of a warning. He seems offended that I've done it again, and cast another love spell, though I think he's more annoyed that it wasn't on him and Buffy again this time than that I've meddled with someone else's feelings.

Also, we don't know if we can recover my control over my soul. Giles is exhausted with the late hour, but he's still at the Magic Box looking through the books with Xander and Anya, even though the two of them clearly had other plans. Buffy and Spike went off to patrol, and to see if they could find where the mage was hiding. Dawn's asleep in the next room - Gods, I hope the mage doesn't show up here – and Constantine's tranced himself downstairs. Said he'd no time to travel physically, considering the mess that's happened, and he'd try manifestations instead. Apparently it was Meri's idea.

It's quite ruined the happy I got from the movie. I'd have to watch it again after all this – if it ever ends. Why am I so stupid?

After Oz, I've wanted love so much, and now that I've gotten it, I don't want it. Not this way. But it's so very tempting to leave it as it is – if this elf could turn into a helper like Spike – and he's so very handsome… even more than Legolas…

I cannot. Love that is compelled from a spell isn't love at all. Is it?

-Willow Rosenberg]

Willow found that she was sobbing, and she closed her diary, hid it in her drawer, and buried her face in her hands. Someone knocked on the door, and she hastily wiped away her tears. "Come in."

Constantine opened the door and leaned on the frame, clearly spent as he yawned and rubbed his eyes. He became more alert when he saw her eyes and nose, reddened from crying, and he crossed over to her and enveloped her in a bear hug. "Shh, luv, don't cry. You didn't know. Christ."

"But you said… " Willow burst into a fresh round of sobs. "I'm so sorry!"

"Luv, sometimes me tongue wags faster than me brain," Constantine told her, irritated at himself. He had to remember that she was still a teenager – and she really hadn't known better. Not to mention that he'd done worse things than just a stupid love spell, knowing fully the consequences…

"No, you were right… now what can I do?" Willow wailed.

"Just a lapse of judgement," Constantine murmured. "Lord knows I do that too damned often – and usually, I do know better. I've cast more foolish things than soddin' love spells, luv – you just gave me a bad shock just now, and I'm a cranky, nervous senile git who doesn't like to be surprised in his old age. Pot callin' the bleedin' kettle black, 'ey?"

Willow looked up at him, then begin to giggle through her sobs. "You're… you're not a cranky… nervous senile git."

"Thanks, luv," Constantine grinned wickedly as he ruffled her hair. "I'm a cranky, crabby nervous senile old git who should watch where his tongue goes one o' these days, then."

Willow laughed, sorrow fleeing in the blaze of its opposite, then when she subsided, she smiled a little, timorously. "Do you want coffee?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

**

"Oh no, not you!" Willy, bartender of a demon bar and Sunnydale's snitch, squeaked when he saw the Slayer advancing towards him inexorably. Demons that were in her way judiciously got out of it very quickly and pretended they didn't notice her, though some glared at Spike, whose cocky swagger clearly said that he was looking for a fight. Still, with the Slayer beside him, those who usually wouldn't hesitate to give it to him did so.

"Oh yes, me," Buffy leaned over the grimy counter. "Now. Do you know of a dark elven mage with a dragon staff?"

"I don't know of no dark elves, Slayer," Willy said hastily, relieved that her inquiries, this time, did involve nothing that he knew of, and the relief made him a bit more forthcoming. "But mages, I know about that. Something fried several vampires and did something horrible to some others – we had to dust them… "

"What?" Spike blinked. Had to?

"You should've seen, Spike," Willy's voice dropped. "It was horrible! One poor bugger was bleeding from everywhere – you wiped off a bit of the blood from the skin and it got covered again after a few seconds. There was another one whose body got rearranged, like one of those modern art things like eyes moved to the chest, mouth moved to the right hand – fair mad with pain – and two of them had been gouging at each other until there wasn't anything recognizable left except the head and the bit over the heart… "

"And then there was the remains of some G'arthax demon clan found ripped to shreds in their part of the sewers, like they'd tried to eat their own bodies up in some madness… and the Dquar in the crypt…"

Spike whistled in grudging admiration. That was rather impressive.

"It's magic at work, Slayer," Willy said grimly. "And it's like nothing we've seen before, so… "

"It's the dark elf," Spike said, "Met the bloke. Had to run."

"What did he look like?" Willy asked, sounding interested. Spike was aware that most of the pub was listening.

"Wearin' black robes, hood, holding a dragon staff. Under the hood, black skin, white hair, pointy ears," Spike said curtly. He had no quarrel with a lot of the patrons here, and there was no harm in their knowing. "Can throw fireballs, lightnin' bolts. You see him, you run, hopefully he won't follow."

Willy frowned. "I've heard that some vampires saw something like that – black robes, at least – in the cemetery. Crypts."

Buffy sighed. "Now that was obvious. Why do all these things love the cemetery? Isn't there any better real estate around here?"

"You going to kill it, slayer?" Willy asked hopefully.

"Going to try, Willy."

**

"We can't fight magic, Slayer," Spike told her as they left the pub.

"That's why we're going for help," Buffy replied dryly. "Since the elf knows us, we might as well stay away from it and fetch Giles and the rest of the gang to my house. Don't want to wake up Dawnie for this – she's got a test tomorrow, and I don't dare leave her alone in the house."

Spike was silent – Buffy had half-expected him to make some jibe about her being a mother hen. She glanced at him curiously, but he wasn't looking at her – instead, looking up at the night sky that was clouded today so no moon showed.

"Have you ever thought how insignificant we all are compared to the expanse up there? All the other worlds with their billions of things, all the huge stars. I wonder if that's why mankind wars, to try and prove their significance, that they can do something noticeable – yet all wars eventually fade into history and turn into a few lines in a dusty book somewhere, maybe less than a footnote in time."

Buffy wasn't sure where this had come from, and could only stare at him in surprise.

"And to think, on all the other worlds, the same play is always acted out – love, hate, birth, life, death, happiness, sorrow. And we can try to believe that all we do is important in some way, but even here, you savin' the world and all so many times – seems that a lot of people do that frequently, unknown to us."

"Probably a lot more out there savin' the bleedin' universe, or their dimensions or somethin', and thinkin' they're doin' a great job, though no one else may know of it and no one might actually care, in the big picture. Then you might wonder why the hell do you care how much life is worth to you, why not end it – not like anyone would'ha notice. And in our selfish manner we go on without bleedin' givin' a thought to all those out there who might be makin' sacrifices we'd never know or appreciate. And to some of us – all of it – all of the universe and all its worlds, all of its lives and deaths, loves and hatreds, all the plays - don't mean anythin' at all."

Spike finally looked at her, and he had the same frightening expression of addiction that she had seen in the Magic Box today. "Do you know why it doesn't matter to me, Slayer?"

"Why, Spike?" she whispered, though she knew the answer.

"You are my world, Slayer."

--

Notes and References:

Vengeance business: Okay, it turns out that perhaps some people haven't actually watched Buffy but are reading this 'fic. Anya was once Anyanka, a cool, evil vengeance feminist demon who got changed into an annoying human when an AU Giles broke her amulet of power.

Let my Will be Done: This was a reference to the episode 'Something Blue', where Willow cast a spell which caused everything she wanted to come through. When she told Giles that 'you don't see' when he didn't seem to understand her pain at Oz leaving her, he proceeded to go gradually blind. When she snapped something about Buffy and Spike should get married because Buffy seemed to be spending more time with Spike (insulting him) than talking with her, they fell in love and began making arrangements for their wedding. When she accused Xander of being a 'demon magnet', demons began chasing after him. It was an extremely amusing episode.