Chapter 7

Truth and lies

Willow had eventually shooed everyone out of the training room, as Buffy and Spike were making more noise and Constantine was complaining – the resulting mingled clamor interrupting her concentration. Alone at last and firmly closing the door, she took a deep, steadying breath, and looked down at her list. So far, all the gifts, though obtainable, were going to dig deeply into her pockets… at least there hadn't been a time limit, but at this rate, she'd have to try and get a job. Constantine had said not to worry about money, but she felt bad imposing on him further.

It had nearly been lunchtime anyway, and Anya had been offering to treat Constantine so that instead of watching over Willow casting spells he'd go back to manipulating customers. Giles hadn't been particularly sure that was ethical, since he suspected Constantine of using magic, but Anya had been adamant that it was good business, whichever way one looked at it, proving that her morals, after a thousand years of being a vengeance demon, still needed working on.

She had made good progress with the list of Goddesses, at least – faster than Constantine had believed she would; though he still told her to slow down. It was just that, when one approached the light at the proverbial end of the tunnel, one naturally felt like running.

Maybe one more Goddess before going for lunch…

As to finding the dark elf, she knew she had to do it eventually – better still, if she did it herself, since she was the one who got everyone into this mess. He might hurt anyone else who came near him, but she doubted that he would do anything to her, unless her definition of love was radically different from the idea of love on another world. At the most, she'd just look up some protection spells that didn't need petitioning Gods before looking for him, in case he tried some meddling spells of his own. And then she could take the opportunity to ask him what he was doing on this world.

Constantine had said the dark elves didn't like sunlight, so Willow decided to go and find him during the sunlit hours. At the most, if she had to run, he would hesitate to follow.

Maybe after lunch she'd go and look around the cemeteries.

A small part of her informed her that a noticeable proportion of her new resolve was due to the fact that she wanted to see the elf again – and to see the extent of what she had accidentally accomplished. She had a disturbing feeling that she wanted to be convinced – not of taking off the spell – but of leaving it on.

**

Spike felt like protesting against being left alone in the store with Giles when Anya, Buffy and Constantine went off to look for lunch, but kept silent. If he couldn't follow them, what was the bloody point of wanting to go with them? At least Giles was ignoring him, as he usually did – Spike was quite sure the Watcher would never actually accept vampires into Buffy's circle of friends. Too much Watcher training, perhaps – or maybe it was because he reminded Giles of Angel, which would unfailingly in turn remind him of Angel's Mr. Hyde personality, Angelus, who had killed Giles' girlfriend.

Giles with a girlfriend. That bit he still couldn't seem to be able to accept. Like trying to think if he knew how to break-dance. Or seeing him ride a Harley, or wearing black leather, or…

Spike realized he was sniggering to himself, but Giles did not even look at him. Probably thought he had lost his bleedin' marbles.

The witch came out of the training room and went to look at the spellbooks, telling Giles something about needing protection spells. Spike could tell that she wasn't going to use the spells for what she was implying she needed them for – in case the Goddesses turned nasty – but Giles totally seemed to overlook that point. Willow sat down at the table near him and began looking through the tomes, occasionally taking notes industriously.

"Hope you're not thinkin' of any more spells to do with bleedin' Goddesses, luv," Spike said, hoping he could prod it out of her.

"Oh no, some of the protection spells don't um, need divine help," Willow said, with the guilty look of a kid caught with her hand down a cookie jar. "Um. I have to call some not-that-friendly-usually Goddesses later, and… and I thought I should try to be ready."

Well, if she didn't want to tell him, then it was probably no business of his, unless… "This is 'bout the elf, eh?"

The look of guilt was quite obvious now. "No, of course not! Why would you um, think so?"

"You're a terrible liar, luv," Spike smirked. Giles, at least, was out of hearing range as he hovered anxiously around a woman with two toddlers who couldn't seem to take their hands off anything.

"Well, I don't have to tell you anything," Willow said, then looked back at the books, ignoring him.

"If it's to do with the elf… "

"I didn't say that!" Willow's head snapped up and she glared at him.

"Of course you didn't, luv," Spike smirked again, but it faded quickly. "I know how you feel, luv. Remember that spell you pulled on Buffy and me that time?"

"I've been trying to forget it," Willow said wryly.

"Well, one thing you say about love – once it happens, I don't think you can take it away completely."

"What?" Willow blinked. "Oh gods! Don't tell me I made you continue to love Buffy!"

"Ain't nothin' that serious," Spike said before the witch became really guilty. "The spell just forced me to see Buffy in another way – when you love someone, it highlights all the person's good points, see?"

"You really sound like Constantine," Willow sighed.

"He's not half bad for a bloke," Spike shrugged. "As I was sayin'. Even if you took away the spell – even if you could cancel the spell – remember Aphrodite's condition - wot with the elf already knowin' about you, there's a chance that he'd love what he knows. The spell might have been just a push in the right direction… "

"Wrong direction!"

"Whatever you say, luv," Spike relaxed in his chair, his point made. Willow looked even more confused now, and then she took a deep breath.

"Spike – since you're the only other person I know who's ever gotten into this sort of a… a mess… can you tell me if my wanting to leave the spell on is wrong?"

"You're askin' me a moral question?"

Willow blushed. "Sorry." She closed the books, having apparently finished looking. "I'd uh, go for lunch."

"Eh luv, I'm flattered," Spike smirked. "But if you're askin' for my opinion – take it off. Is it really worth it to compel summat's love? What's the worth in that? If you're so desperate for affection, luv, get a… "

"Puppy, I know," Willow grinned at the old joke. "But what if when I take it off –if I can take it off - he takes revenge on us? You know what he can do… "

"I've thought of that," Spike nodded. "Here now – when nothin's happenin', it's easy to tell you to take it off, innit? Because the last time – when you rewrote Buffy's – and my – emotions, that frightened me, luv, how we both couldn't tell what was real or not. Freedom of thought could bleedin' sod off, then, for all we cared."

Willow flinched guiltily, remembering what Buffy had said to her of the episode. Her 'I loved him, Willow' was said with an awed horror – horror that had not stemmed from the fact that it had happened, but that it could happen, that she had not known it was a spell, that she had enjoyed it while it lasted. She wondered if, morally, she should give in and break Aphrodite's condition… wasn't that the right thing to do?

"But if you put me in a situation where he's threatenin' Buffy's life – or the Little Bit's if you took it off… well, I'd bleedin' get down on my knees and beg you to leave it on," Spike said, looking away from her. "And another thing why it's so easy to leave it. Remember when I came back after Dru dumped me to ask you for a love spell?"

"Yeah…" Willow stifled a smile, remembering a drunk, desperate Spike who had somehow ended up confessing to Buffy's mom, always willing to lend a sympathetic ear, over a cup of hot cocoa. Buffy's mom had always liked Spike, to the then-Buffy's irritation, and had never actually approved of Angel. Perhaps it was because that though both were vampires, on the surface Spike just looked like one of the bad boys some girls always which they're involved with at some time in their lives for the fun and sex, but Angel looked like a psychotic serial-killer with his brooding, dark looks.

"It's easy to want love when you're so lonely that it's killin' you slowly," Spike said seriously. "Gods know that everyone wants to be loved without friggin' question. But sooner or later you'd find that easy way outs aren't the best way outs, and you'd have to do it yourself the way you were intended to – no magic, no lies, no bleedin' short-cuts." He paused. "Bloody hell. I sound like a friggin' priest."

"Um. I'd go now," Willow said, and fled before the vampire could say anything else, fled before the words of truth.

**

Buffy, Anya and Constantine returned slowly from lunch in the satisfied torpor of the full. They were talking about, for some reason, chocolates. Constantine knew that this was something a large proportion of the fairer sex had an obsession on, and once he had offered that the only chocolate he liked was milk chocolate without any other 'bleedin' fancy frills', he had officially labeled himself a chocolate philistine. The two of them were trying to convince him that other sorts of chocolate were worth trying, and Meri wasn't helping by laughing inside his mind.

"Okay, what about mint fillings?" Buffy asked as she opened the Magic Box's door. "Mint fillings are nice, and… "

"I like plain milk chocolate, luv," Constantine said mildly, for the twenty-third time since this conversation had started.

"Or nougat? Have you tried nougat?" Anya chirped in.

"Chocolate-with-friggin'-cardboard? Once. Never again."

"What about creams? Like strawberry or orange…" It was Buffy's turn to come up with a suggestion.

"If I want jam I'd rather eat it on toast."

"What about caramel?" Anya asked brightly.

"Bleedin' melted sugar? No thanks, luv. I want melted sugar, luv, I can make melted sugar. Looks like pulverized slugs."

"Dark chocolate?" Buffy asked, trying another line of attack. "They do nice ones – After Eights – but they're also mint… "

"Chocolate should be sweet, not bitter, luv."

"Pralines?" Anya took up the questioning effortlessly.

"I like me chocolates plain, luv." Constantine said firmly, with a pained expression, looking around to try and find a means of escape. "I'd ah, go back to lookin' at books." Hastily, he hurried away, but first bypassed the amused blond vampire to look inside the training room. Willow wasn't there, but Constantine assumed she'd gone out for lunch. Nodding at the vampire, he sat down and picked up a book at random.

Protection spells for the self from mind-magic.

Constantine frowned and looked through it, but decided there was nothing wrong. After all, she was probably just being careful, if the Gods wanted to try some other forms of manipulation. Shutting out the warning bells in his head, he put the book on his lap as if reading, and eventually fell asleep, as was his natural reaction to anything resembling studying.

**

Willow looked around. The cemetery looked almost tranquil and deserted in the sunlight, but she knew better than to go poking around the crypts unprepared. She had put the protection spells on herself, and hoped they'd keep out dark elven magic if he tried it on her, but there wasn't much else she would dare to use.

She was using telepathy – something she was good at, which hadn't, as yet, caused any accidents – to feel out the minds in the area. There were presences in some of the crypts with the sulphurous, orange-red warmth she associated with demons, a few of the misty white ones that were ghosts or wraiths, and a few of the cold, earthy ones of the walking dead. Willow bypassed a several stretches of crypts before she found what she was looking for – a crypt beneath two large trees with spreading crowns, inside of which there was a mind that felt like a human's, though subtly different.

There were probably wards around there somewhere. Willow nervously wondered if she should try a spell, but the strain of holding the physical shields on herself might start to tell on her soon, and she'd just have to hope that the shields she put on for offensive magic would keep the worst of it off her…

Resolutely, she walked towards the crypt, and reached the door. It swung open easily – no wards yet – and she walked into the cool interior. It was empty, and she was relieved for a moment until she realized that there was a dark stairway at the right corner that led to a lower level.

She murmured a word in Latin and a ball of blue light formed in front of her. Allowing that to lead the way, she walked down the stairway, marveling at the lack of wards, and then found herself standing in a smaller chamber which had one tomb to her left and a pile of rubble to her right – probably another, shattered tomb, and also a large box of something next to that. The light was not enough to illuminate all the dark corners, and she tried to pierce the darkness with her inadequate eyes. The place seemed to be uninhabited, but she could feel the dark elf's mind, somewhere to her…

"Willow." The word seemed to be breathed from the atmosphere of the chamber itself like a dying breeze, poignant with unfulfilled yearning, but there was an underlying tone of… desire? Willow swallowed. Now what had she gotten herself into?
"How… how do you know my name?"

It seemed as though the shadows detached themselves from the corner nearest to the box, and formed into the elf when he pulled back his hood. He was leaning on his staff as though he was tired, and though his manner appeared casual, Willow could see the tension. There was none of the blank adoration Spike displayed openly to Buffy in his expression in the dark elf's eyes – though there was burning ardor and the adoration, which was admittedly there, seemed to be hooded. There was affection without tenderness, empathy without intimacy. The dark elf smiled indulgently at her question. "I asked some vampires. If you did not wish others to know your name so easily you should not give it out too freely." He spoke American English – like she did – without any trace of an accent. The spell was even weirder than she'd thought.

Willow was quite certain what the elf's idea of asking was, but decided to continue with what she came here to do. "What's your name?"

"You are quite forward," the elf observed. He seemed pleased when she flushed at that and mumbled an apology. "But as you wish. My name is Nalfein Do'Urden. I have others, but that was my birth-name."

"Oh." So Constantine was right – this was a Do'Urden. Willow wondered why he kept running into them, unless it was some cosmic joke on the part of the Powers that Be who wanted to see how long it'd take for him to start killing Do'Urdens. "Um. I have more questions… " Now how sad did that sound? Willow felt like a little child desperately asking questions of a teacher before recess time, and wondered how bright red her cheeks were now.

"Ask what you will." His voice became an insinuating purr, and Willow felt her body reacting to it. Biting her lip, she tried to think of school… helping with Dawn's homework… anything to stop allowing her body to make the connection between the wet warmth at the apex of her legs to... no.

"Firstly, what are you on… what did you come to this world for?" Willow relaxed slightly. Talking business helped.

"Why should I tell you, Willow?" Nalfein replied, stalking forward deliberately, ignoring the light, the unusual material of his robes flowing like dark waters. Instinctively, Willow took several steps backwards – taking her a little further away from the staircase. He smiled slightly at this, but was far too close before Willow could realize her mistake and make a run for it. Something cold and hard at her back, pressing at her shoulderblades – she'd just reached the wall. Nalfein stopped approaching, though he already stood a little too close for her comfort. This close to him, with him only slightly taller than she was, the inhuman perfection of his features seemed all the more apparent, and she guiltily wondered what the rest of him looked like. When he spoke again she stared openly at him as though mesmerized. "Should you pay me for the information?"

"Pay?" Willow stammered, looking behind the elf wildly, then mumbled, "Er… er… maybe I should go."

"Something trivial." Nalfein smiled at her discomfort. "Perhaps if you could grant me a kiss for each question answered?"

"Wha… what?"

"Just one kiss each," Nalfein purred. "No charm spells or such involved. I give you my word."

Willow reflected that at this rate he wouldn't even need charm spells. "Oh." Her conscience won out over her emotional struggle. "You do know you're… you're under a spell, don't you?"

"I thought so," Nalfein inclined his head. "My dispelling spells do not seem to work on it – so either they cannot grasp on magic from this world, or that the spell was of information and cannot be dispelled." His eyes seemed to burn into hers. "I believe it was of the latter, because my mind was suddenly full of you… "

"Why not the former?" Willow didn't want to know the extent of what the spell had done.

Nalfein chuckled. "Some demons tried to ensorcell me last night. My protections – which I had even before I met you – held." His smile was wicked. "I have no doubt they are currently regretting that they had ever run into me."

"Oh dear." Willow said a little faintly. The demons were alive – which was probably worse. Either that spell had somehow gotten through his shields, or it had been of information and perhaps a little 'push' in the 'right direction'… "We couldn't find a way to dispel it."

"Why would you wish to?" Nalfein asked. He seemed genuinely curious as to why they'd try to get rid of a spell that would technically give them the advantage over him.

"Because… because love shouldn't be compelled with spells," Willow said quickly. "It would have no value then."

"You think what I feel for you is compelled?"

"How else can it be? Your kind… you don't like humans, I've heard," Willow decided to leave out the names of her friends.

Nalfein moved very quickly. Willow flinched when she found his hand was stroking her cheek, and she fought the urge to lean into it. "Even one so beautiful? A living flame whose fire burns at my soul? Listen to me, Willow. It is easy to dislike humans when for two and a half centuries one has never actually known humans – only seen them as scuttling, frightened creatures scrambling out of one's way in one's city. But now… " He moved closer, such that he pressed against her and she could feel his breath on her ear, and, the gods save her, the evidence of his arousal.

"Mmm. Perhaps it is accurate to say I love you. Your spell, I would think – has revealed yourself to me – your heart and your soul." Unable to move with the shock, she felt his head dip and he kissed her neck in the hollow the way she liked it. "I loved what I saw and what I understood… so yes, I love you, Willow." Frozen at the words, reason fleeing, Willow's mind noted that Nalfein smelled good – a sort of faint, minty scent that was absolutely enticing.

"What are you here for?" Willow's voice sounded strangled even to herself when he lazily licked along her collarbone, apparently having forgotten his proposed game. Thoughts of pushing him away never actually entered her mind – this felt deliciously good, and Willow found herself hoping that, spell or no spell, Nalfein wouldn't stop.

"That is a wide question," he murmured, leaning his dragon-staff on the wall next to her, freeing his other hand into play, slender fingers of both hands massaging her thighs, then sliding up to her hips.

"On this world, then?" Willow bit back a whimper when he turned his attention to the other side of her neck.

He stopped and looked at her, amused. "Very well, I shall tell you. I am on this world as an errand-boy for the Goddess I have no choice but to follow. Though I have found another Goddess who far surpasses the first in her splendor…" Nalfein kissed her lazily, and Willow found herself opening her mouth to allow his tongue to delve inside and explore. He tasted of wine and spice, and she tangled her fingers in his hair, kissing him back eagerly. Eventually he pulled away, breathing heavily, an unsatisfied gleam in his eyes. "That was your first question."

"I didn't agree to your game," Willow said, trying to slow down her heartbeat and her breathing. She was alternating between wishing her friends would find her and wishing they'd stay away – she acknowledged that she'd gotten herself in way out of her depth, but it had been so long since she had touched someone in this way.

"You did not disagree either," Nalfein pointed out with just the trace of a devilish grin. "Do you have other questions, or can we… "

"I have other questions," Willow said quickly before he made suggestions that she was afraid she would acquiesce to. "What errand?"

"To find something called 'the Key' for the Goddess Lloth." Nalfein leant forward to kiss her again, but Willow moved her head away quickly.

"You didn't say what this key would do… "

"You didn't ask." Nalfein used one hand to hold her head while he took his second kiss ardently. "Now. Your third question – the key would allow the Goddess to enter this world."

Though Willow took pleasure in the third kiss, her heart was sinking. It was as Rose had warned – this elf had been attempting a breaking of world barriers. He had to be stopped.

"Do you know where the key is?" she asked hopefully. Maybe she could get to it first, or…

"One of your friends possesses it," Nalfein said. "I had hoped it was you – but this did not glow." He pulled a pendant of a spider out from his robes. It was dull, like any other precious gem in dim light. He put it back in his clothing, then leant forward again. Willow formulated her next question while fighting against her own desire.

When he pulled away again she managed to speak. "Um. Can you give me the pendant that would glow in the presence of the key?" She put in the elaboration in case the pendant he showed her was a fake, and hence if he agreed and gave it to her, it would be a trick at her expense.

"That would not be information now, would it." Nalfein seemed to have expected that question, and he seemed even more amused than ever.

"N-no…"

"So… another price would be more… fitting." Nalfein's fingers slipped under her blouse from behind and located the button and zip of her skirt. Willow gasped as he unbuttoned it deftly and was about to protest before he got to the zip, but when he kissed her again, she knew that she was lost.

**

The Scooby gang, gathered at the Magic Box, were getting anxious. Xander was back from his job and Dawn had finished school for the day, and Willow still hadn't returned from lunch. Nor had she gone home – and they'd even gone so far as to check the Rosenberg residence, where Willow's parents, who had rejected her, lived. Constantine was cursing himself for not noticing the other reason that Willow could have read up on protection spells for. They regretted every moment of delay in setting out to find her, but there was always some hope that she'd suddenly turn up in the Magic Box, sheepish and brimming over with reasons for being delayed. However, as the minutes ticked past, it became quite obvious what she had probably done.

"I can't believe she went to find him by herself!" Buffy was frantic. "What if she gets hurt? What if… "

"I don't think he'd kill her, Slayer," Spike said soothingly. It didn't work – Buffy, if anything, got even more angry.

"If he hurt her, I'm going to kill him!"

"You'd have to queue up to do it," Constantine growled, extremely annoyed with himself. "Damn. There's nothin' to it – we'd have to go and look for them. The cat can probably follow her scent."

"Cat?" Giles asked.

"It's a big black panther," Dawn explained. "It's very friendly."

"To my friends," Constantine corrected, his unspoken intimation of what the panther would do to the damned elf if they found Willow hurt palpably obvious. "Sun's going to set soon. We'd better go."

Spike was about to protest, but then he changed his mind. "I'd stay here if she comes back," he said, unwilling to ask them to wait for them and still filled with an overwhelming wish to help that was quite embarrassing. "I'd catch up with you later."

"Thanks, Spike," Buffy said sincerely, and he gaped at her in shock. She smiled at him, then led her sister outside, such that he didn't see the twin, knowing smirks that they exchanged. Dawn mouthed 'score three to you', and Buffy nodded wickedly.

Giles and Anya looked at each other, then Giles shrugged. "If you steal anything… "

Spike smirked, though still reeling from the Slayer's thanks to come up with a suitable retort. "If I steal anythin', you won't notice." When Anya glared at him, he amended, "Okay, I won't. I swear on it. Happy?"

Giles gave him the keys to the shop, and then they all set off to the cemetery after getting weapons from the training room, though they were firstly going to drop off Dawn at the Summers house. Spike tossed the keys into the air and caught them adroitly, watching the dying sunlight wash the pavement outside with burnished gold. It reminded him of the Slayer's hair… the Slayer, who was right now going into a graveyard to try and find and rescue her best friend from a powerful mage.

"What the hell did you get yourself into now?" he muttered. It was unclear as to whom he was referring to.

--

Notes and References:

Money: When he really needs to get money, Constantine can walk up to a person, ask him for his wallet, and the person would happily give it to him and wish him a good day. Same thing to hotel rooms, to quote from the trade paperback 'Damnation's Flame', written by Garth Ennis, who does a lovely rendition of his accent that I can't seem to stay on:

'And how will you be paying, Mr. Constantine?'

'Actually, luv, I won't. But you just put that I have in your computer wotsit, eh? And bung us up some sarnies and a six-pack on room service, while you're at it.'

'That'll do nicely, sir. Enjoy your stay'

What can I say? Magic.

Spike and love spells: This was in Season 3, when Drusilla, Spike's love for a century or so, left him for a fungus demon (at this point of time the Buffy show was getting seriously warped). Spike, desperate, came to Sunnydale to try and force Willow to cast him a love spell on Drusilla so he could get her back. Weirdness happened, including a drunk Spike falling asleep outside his crypt when the sun rose and his hand catching fire. This was one of the few Season 3 episodes that I watched, since I am not a Buffy/Angel fan.

Running into Do'Urdens: In the previous 'fics I've written that crossed Hellblazer with FR, the first dark elf that Constantine has met on a new AU world always seems to be a Do'Urden. It's driving him nuts.

The rating: Of the story, is still PG-13 and is unlikely to change for the story proper. I may be tempted to write an NC-17 chapter, especially if asked, but I'd put it after the epilogue and the afterword, probably, so people can skip it if they want.