Chapter Six: Friends, New and Old
"There's no one home," Wesley announced, as the spell he'd preformed on Cordelia's still unresponsive body failed to turn the green it should have had the seer been in residence.
"What could have done that?" Angel demanded.
"Any number of things. Probably a spell, but not necessarily. What was she doing before this happened? Did she suddenly just fall over or was it gradual?"
Connor shifted uneasily and Angel had to force himself to not glare at his son, but when he answered, his voice was still filled with some subtext the former watcher couldn't identify. "She was sleeping. She was fine before she went to sleep and then . . . we couldn't wake her up."
"Are you certain there was nothing else?" Wesley asked carefully, not wanting to upset the obviously delicate balance between Angel and Connor, but needing to make sure.
"Just tell me what to kill to fix this," Angel said shortly.
"I'm not sure it's that simple," Wesley replied. "Of course, there's the usual list of suspects when it comes to magical attacks. But there are also many other possibilities. This could be an as yet unknown function of her demon status. We never did figure out what kind of demon traits she received. Or, it could be that her duties are not quite as finished as she thought in the higher realms and she's been recalled temporarily. The bottom line is, Cordelia's spirit isn't here. And until we know more about where it is, I wouldn't recommend any action. There's no one in there, and I don't think it'd be wise to draw attention to that. You never know who or what might take up residence there."
"That's not entirely true, sugar," a new voice said from behind them.
The group turned and looked at the green skinned demon in the doorway to the room of the hotel Angel had set aside for Cordy's use.
"There's someone in there," Lorne explained, stepping into the room, his gaze fixed on the comatose seer. "I don't think it's the princess, but that body ain't empty."
"What do you mean?" Connor demanded, still suspicious of the demon.
"I'm picking up an aura, gumdrop. It's faint, but it's defiantly not Cordy."
"How do we find out who it is?" Gunn asked from behind Lorne. He too entered the bedroom, walking around a stack of still unpacked boxes to stand beside the bed. "If someone else is in there, they might be keeping Barbie from coming back."
"There's a spell that might work," Fred said from the doorway. Her eyes darted to Gunn before quickly turning to Angel. "I found it when we were looking for you and her this summer. It didn't help us because it's for finding a spirit that's been separated from a body when you have the body. But it might work now."
"Go find the spell," Angel instructed the diminutive girl. Turning, he continued, "Wes? Can you . . . Will you do this?"
Wesley nodded. "Of course."
The men stood in an uneasy silence around the seer's bed, each lost in his own thoughts as they waited for Fred to return.
After a few minutes, the physicist entered the room, her hands empty.
"Where's the book, Fred?" Angel asked harshly.
"Hey, man," Gunn took a step towards the vampire. "Whatever your issue is, and personally, I think it's more than just Cordy playing Sleeping Beauty, but don't take it out on Fred!"
Angel sighed, then took a deep breath before apologizing to the young woman. "I'm sorry, Fred. The book?"
"It's okay," she said, smiling nervously at Angel before her expression turned worried. "Unfortunately, the spell I remembered wasn't so much a spell as a reference to a spell. The actual spell is in another book – one we don't have. Spirits and Souls: Lost, Found, and Misplaced."
"There's a book called that?" Gunn asked incredulously.
"I don't have that one either," Wesley said, ignoring Gunn's comment. "But, I think Giles does. I'll give him a call and see. I'm sure if he does he could fax us the spell."
☼ ☼ ☼
"What do you mean there's a loophole?" Lilah's fist closed around the throat of the small, smelly creature, whose molted-brown skin fell off in chunks when she touched it. The dark-haired woman held it against the wall, its feet a good three feet off the ground.
The creature flailed its short legs out from under the black robe it wore – one of Lilah's early projects with the firm had been getting the creatures to wear any coverings at all while working on Wolfram & Hart property – trying to gain some purchase, while its hands frantically clawed at the well-manicured hand squeezing its windpipe shut.
Her need to know the information outweighed Lilah's ire long enough to drop the hobgoblin to the floor. There it sat, gasping for breath as the enraged woman fixed it in place with an icy gaze as surely as if she'd skewered it to the floor like some giant demon insect pinned to a felt board for display.
"When y-y-you," the diminutive demon started, quickly correcting itself when Lilah cocked one eyebrow dangerously. "When we, when we started the spell, the ah, addition of the second girl meant that we d-d-didn't have enough vi-virgins to power it. So, we had to allow a loophole instead. Magic that's that big has a high price."
Lilah sighed. It was becoming a more and more prevalent problem for the firm. Finding the amount of adult virgins in southern California necessary to fulfill the number required by Wolfram & Hart was harder every year. We should just start farming them, the woman thought, seriously considering the idea – maybe a cult. The offshoot of the Shaker religion that had flourished in Eastern America in the 1800's – which believed in life long sexual abstinence – had been started by an enterprising member of the firm to provide a sufficient pool of sacrifices. Of course, not everyone who converted to it had been a virgin, but there were also a lot of magical uses for the kind of sexual frustration the religion built up in its members.
Later, though. Right now, she had to find out how much damage had been done by her decision to include Cordelia in the spell.
"What. Is. The. Loophole?" she demanded slowly. A more astute creature might have been offended by her tone. However, the hobgoblins, while exceptionally adept and intelligent when it came to magic, generally gave the average doorknob a run for its money in the smarts department.
"If the objective that the spell was designed to prevent is completed," the pitiful creature wheezed, slowly edging away from the woman's reach, "the spirits will return to their appropriate places."
Taking a swift step forward, Lilah viciously kicked the cowering demon before saying sweetly. "Then I guess you'd better hope that doesn't happen."
Turning, she left the conference room. If the spell failed, the mages involved were going to die a very painful, very slow death in retribution. Smiling, Lilah shrugged. Even if the spell worked, she might have them killed anyway. Their personal hygiene made a Kazulka's lair seem like an ideal vacation spot. And Kazulka demons used a carefully orchestrated, time-honored system of horrific smells – rotting flesh and whatnot – to ward off threats to their nests.
Plus, the hobgoblins only came up Lilah's knees and spent more time trying to look up her skirt than listening to directions.
☼ ☼ ☼
"Oh dear, you'll have to stay here tonight." Richard's mother smiled kindly at Buffy, reminding her so much of her own mother, that Buffy was hit by a sudden longing. "Tomorrow we'll see if we can't find out more about you."
Swallowing hard, Buffy smiled back at the woman. "Thank you, Mrs. Fox. That's very kind of you."
"Nonsense, dear," the woman shook her head. "You're welcome to stay until we find out where you belong. It's the least we can do. And do feel free to call me Emma. Now, come into the parlor and have some tea. I can't believe Richard made you stand out here in the entryway instead of inviting you all the way in like a proper gentleman." Shaking her head, the woman guided Buffy by the elbow down the hall. "My sister and her son are visiting this evening. He's Richard's age. I'm sure the three of you will get on well."
Richard smiled sheepishly at Buffy – in apology for his mother's effusive welcome or his own lack of "proper" behavior she wasn't sure – and followed the two women.
Inside the parlor door, Mrs. Fox stopped and announced to the woman already seated, "This is Drusilla. Richard was out walking and saw her attacked and her purse stolen. The brute hit her rather hard, the poor dear, and she can't remember much past her name. Except she seems to be American. Drusilla will be staying with us until we can find out where she belongs."
Turning to Buffy, Mrs. Fox continued. "Drusilla, this is my sister, Mrs. Mary Sullivan."
Buffy smiled at the woman, started to stick her hand out to shake, but aborted the gesture, moving her hand up to brush her hair back behind her ear, when she realized that handshaking probably wasn't something women did in this time. "Nice to meet you."
"And you, dear," Mrs. Sullivan said.
Everyone but Mrs. Fox sat down while she served tea. Richard recounted the evening's tale for his aunt, while Buffy studied the woman. Something about her seemed familiar . . .
A young man with longish, curly brown hair and glasses entered the room, mumbling to himself with his head down as he walked.
"Cousin," said Richard, "I'd like to introduce you to our guest, Miss Drusilla."
Buffy rose to greet Richard's cousin, saying, "Drusilla is fine. Or, just Dru."
The new man raised his head to greet her and Buffy found herself looking into a pair of bright blue eyes she would know anywhere.
☼ ☼ ☼
"Spike," Willow called down the stairs to the vampire in the Summers living room, "could you get that?"
The vampire rose from the couch and started for the kitchen. Xander had left to pick up Anya and the pizza, leaving Spike behind with Willow, Dawn, and the unconscious Slayer. Both women were upstairs, sitting by Buffy's bed, watching for any change. Spike hadn't felt it was his place to join them, so he'd stayed in the living room, waiting for the research session to begin. The phone rang once again before Spike lifted the receiver from the wall.
"Summers Residence," he said.
"Giles, is that you?" a male voice with a British accent demanded from the other end. "Thank goodness! First I got the recording saying your store is closed indefinitely for renovations, and then when I found your home number disconnected, I became worried."
"Hold on there, mate," Spike cut off the other man's torrent of words. "'M not Giles."
"What? Who is this?"
"Who're you?" the vampire countered, afraid that a British voice meant a watcher. And Spike suspected there wasn't a watcher out there who would be impressed to find a vampire –even a souled vampire – answering the Slayer's phone.
"Wesley. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," came the formal reply before the voice returned to the slightly less cultured, less British tones of the beginning of the conversation. "Is Giles there?"
"No." Spike offered nothing more, suspecting that this "Wesley, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce" – and if that didn't sound pretentious enough to be a watcher, he'd take up sunbathing – didn't know Giles all that well if he wasn't aware the watcher had returned to England over a year ago, give or take a couple of visits.
"Well then, may I speak to Buffy? This is her house, isn't it?"
"Yes," Spike confirmed the second question. "But she's not available. Can I take a message?"
There was a pause, before Wesley responded, "I'm looking for a book I believe Giles has. Do you know where I can reach him?"
As Wesley was speaking, Willow came into the kitchen. "Who is it?" she mouthed to Spike.
"Wesley something," he whispered to her.
"Wesley?" This time Willow spoke aloud. "What's he want?"
"Giles," Spike said, shrugging and holding the phone out to Willow. Seeing his confusion, as she took the phone she said, "Ex-watcher. He works for Angel."
Spike rolled his eyes and turned to leave Willow alone to continue the conversation. Just as he was sitting down in the living room he heard Willow's voice raise.
"What? Buffy's the same way!"
In a flash, the vampire was back in the kitchen.
"What's going on?" he demanded.
Willow waved him off and said into the phone, "I'll call you back when we find the book."
Hanging up the phone, Willow explained. "That was Wesley. Cordelia, I don't know if you know her, but we went to high school with her."
Spike nodded impatiently. "What about Buffy?"
"This morning they found Cordelia the same way we found Buffy. It could be a coincidence, but . . ." the redhead shrugged. "Anyway, they think that Cordy's spirit, soul, whatever isn't in her body. But they think that someone, or something, else is in there. They found a spell to find out what it is. But it's in a book they don't have."
"But you do." It wasn't a question.
"Right, I think so. It's in one of the books we used last year when we were researching how to bring Buffy back. I, I think Tara had it."
Spike's expression softened. "Does that mean you have it then?"
Willow nodded, glancing towards the basement door. "Buffy and Dawn and Xander cleaned out her apartment after . . . after. And, kept all her personal things for me. I haven't gone through them yet."
"Do you . . .I mean, I could," he gestured towards the basement, having correctly interpreted Willow's earlier glance as the location of Tara's things. "If you want. If you're not ready."
"Thanks, Spike." The witch's smile was warm but sad, as she laid a hand on his shoulder. "But I have to do it sometime. Why don't you go up and sit with Dawn? She likes to think she's all grown up, but deep down, I think sometimes she still wants to be taken care of."
The vampire shook his head, sadly. "I don't think I'm the person for that, Red."
"Give her a chance," Willow steered him to the stairs as she spoke. "Give yourself a chance."
To be continued in: "Chapter Seven: Like Sugar in Water"
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
A/N: Any guesses? I'm trying to give just enough clues that you could figure it out if you work really, really hard, but hopefully ones that aren't too obvious. Of course, since I know the answer, all the clues seem blatantly obvious to me. I just hope they're just teasing enough to you. I should tell you too, I suppose, that while I'd love to hear your guesses, there's no way in heaven or hell I'm going to tell you if you're guesses are right, wrong, or even close. But don't let that stop you from guessing!
Thanks to my loyal reviewers: North Star, Lora Darcy, Vette, and Winter. You guys rock! Thank you!