"You're telling me that there is a whole group of people who follow girls and try to turn them into killers? Vampire killers? And that I might have been one of those girls? Are you out of your mind? I'm not some sort of killer, I'm not even a good athlete! I'm a coroner!" Natalie sounded very upset, and the vampire, Vachon was it? The vampire was glaring as well, still standing beside Tracy's bed.
"How do you find out if someone is one of these potential Slayers?" The question was low, and it came from the vampire.
Rupert Giles sighed, wondering again why he'd agreed to do this. Oh yes, Buffy had died, and he'd felt miserable in Sunnydale. Now, he was searching Toronto, finding two of the women on his list were both involved with vampires. "That's actually quite complicated. Partly, there are certain families that the potential runs in, so those families are supposed to be watched. Girls with extraordinary reflexes, a lot of physical abilities... often a quick temper are considered to be candidates. If they continue to show a bit of a physical advantage, maybe a bit better at noticing things, a bit less likely to get sick, healing a little faster... Those are all signs to look for. But I'm afraid there isn't anything to say for certain 'that one is, that one isn't'. At least, I don't know of such a way."
"So these Watchers just find little athletes and make them into killers?" Natalie's question sounded as if she was attempting denial.
"We prefer the term protectors. Slayers protect the world from dangers that most people do not want to believe exist." He frowned, wondering if the vampires here were so entirely different away from the Hellmouth that she didn't understand the danger.
"The council never had trouble finding the Slayer." Vachon's dark eyes seemed to carry a subtle threat.
"When someone actually becomes the Slayer, there is sort of... well, almost a mystical transfer of energy, sort of a supernatural inheritance. Actual Slayers carry an unmistakable aura, but the signs in a potential are much more subtle, and I was never good enough at reading auras to spot those little signs. A coroner? Why did you choose to become a coroner?" He watched the two of them, suspicious of the vampire, worried about Natalie. She seemed almost fragile, not physically, but emotionally. It was obvious that she cared about Tracy, and was taking her hospitalization hard.
"What causes this mystical inheritance that you mentioned?" Natalie's eyes were full of questions, and she had the look of someone determined to unravel a mystery. It made her eyes sparkle like dark honey.
Pain almost seemed to stab through him at her inadvertent reminder. "A Slayer is called by the death of her predecessor. One dies, another is Chosen."
"They hunt the Lost Ones, don't they?" It looked as if something had just shifted into focus for Vachon. "The vampires that... they don't have anything inside to make them care, no worry over right or wrong, just... hunger. I was told that there was something that kept them from being too much of a menace, but..."
"The sort of vampires that the Council worries about... They generally tend to be evil, soul less, and ambitious. For some reason, ending the world seems to be a popular goal." He shook his head, clucking a bit at the persistent folly of such an idea. Why end the world?
"I became a coroner because I'd always had an interest in how things fit together. Then the idea of helping catch the people who just.. make everything stop, like breaking a toy... I'm good at sciences, and I can help people this way. Then, I met Nick, and... there were a whole new group of people that I could help." Natalie's voice carried both a wistful reminiscence and some more recent pain.
"Both of you in 'helping' careers, both trying to keep people safer. That certainly fits the sort of thing that I'd expected, although..." Giles sighed, wondering if this Nick was another vampire, where he was, what sort of feelings Natalie had for him. Apparently, both of them had vampires that they were attached to. "If Tracy is a potential Slayer, she most likely won't be called, not at her age. But if she is, there might be a ritual that can help her heal from this."
"Ritual? What, some sort of magic spell? There's no such thing as magic." Natalie's words were firm, perhaps covering worry or fear.
He looked at her, glancing also at the now thoughtful looking vampire. "Magic is as real as vampires. It can be a powerful tool."
"What sort of ritual? How would it work?" Vachon's voice was low, and his hand was over Tracy's.
"Some chanting in Latin, the burning of certain herbs... It would temporarily give her the healing of a Slayer, for a while, a few days, maybe a few weeks. But that would only be temporary." He frowned, part of him wanting to carry Tracy to somewhere that she would be safe, another part arguing the ridiculousness of the idea. "Perhaps I should ask Willow to help with that..."
"You think that some words and smoke will help her get better?" Natalie looked caught between shock and dismay.
Vachon looked up, a small smile on his face. "What could it hurt, Nat? If it would help Tracy get better... Isn't letting him say some words and burn a few things easier, safer than the alternatives?"
Natalie shivered, her eyes filled with memories. "And if it doesn't go right, we haven't lost... She'll still be the way she is now."
He let his forehead rest on his hand, sighing at the situation. He'd found two maybe potentials, both involved with vampires, and seemed to have talked himself into attempting to mystically aid the healing of one of them. "And things just continue to move in unexpected directions."
end part 6.
He seemed so certain of this. Natalie couldn't help but understand that regardless of the oddness of his words, Rupert Giles believed everything that he'd told them. He really believed in this 'Slayer' thing, although the fact that Vachon also had known what he was talking about made her inclined to think there was something real and scary to that. But magic? The idea made her shiver almost as much as the idea that vampires were real had first done.
But Vachon was right. If this ritual worked, Tracy would be better, and if it failed, they wouldn't have lost anything. But it still gave her the creeps. First vampires, now magic... what else would turn out to be real?
"Will this ritual be very difficult?" She felt silly for asking, after all, how hard could it be to say some words and burn some herbs?
"The difficulty..." He seemed to pause, as if considering the answer carefully. "The severity of her injuries are a bit of a complication. Maybe I should have Willow come to assist me..."
"Who's Willow?" Part of her wondered if all of this would just be a dream, but she knew better. What she was less certain about was the reasoning behind bringing someone else here.
"She's one of the people who help... helped Buffy. Willow has become quite proficient with magic, and is really much more powerful at it than I am." There was sorrow in his voice, and it made his eyes darker.
"Buffy was the Slayer?" Vachon's words were soft, and there was something in his expression that said he wasn't quite so hostile towards the man anymore.
"Yes, Buffy is... was the Slayer. She... died recently. Everyone is still rather upset about it." Tears glimmered in Rupert's eyes, and he blinked in an effort to keep them from falling.
"You were her watcher, her teacher and this council just sent you here to do this... investigation while you're still grieving?" Natalie felt herself becoming annoyed at this Council. Maybe Vachon had a reason for getting upset at their mention...
"They would have sent someone else if I hadn't come. And I still don't know what to tell them about you or Tracy. I might not tell them anything..." He shook his head, perhaps trying to chase away memories. "Willow suggested that going somewhere that isn't filled with memories of Buffy for a while might help."
"You wanted to keep them from stalking everyone, trying to make them council puppets?" Vachon sounded thoughtful.
"I learned a lot from Buffy. One of those lessons is that a destiny, or the potential of one, doesn't mean that she... any of the she's, actually, shouldn't have the chance for a life of their own." He sounded melancholy.
"Tracy wants a life, just not under the shadow of her father. I want her to have that life." Vachon's words were soft as he turned back towards Tracy, one hand brushing the side of her cheek, the bruises almost faded.
"We'll have to try to make certain that she gets the chance for that." Rupert Giles sighed, standing up slowly. "I will go back to my hotel. I'll most likely be back tomorrow or the next night, to check on Miss Vetter again."
Watching him leave, Natalie sighed. "He's certainly different. How much... magic? Are those things for real?"
Vachon shrugged. "I've heard about magic before. I haven't got any better explanations for a few things that I've seen..." He rubbed one hand over his shoulder, still bearing scars from Divia, the half crazed ancient vampire that had nearly killed him as a pawn in her vendetta against LaCroix. "But I know about the Council. He's right that they would have sent someone else."
"I just hope that he's really the guy he appears to be. I'd hate to find out that we've been tricked." She sighed, wondering if there was any way to be certain.
"That's pretty much all we can do. But if he hurts Tracy, I'm going to kill him." Vachon's words were oddly comforting.
end part 7.
Giles had called Willow in the morning, having spent several hours tossing and turning as sleep eluded him, chased away by thoughts of the two individuals that he'd encountered. Natalie Lambert... lovely, intelligent, possibly a potential Slayer, not that she would be called. He found himself wondering how she would look smiling, if she could dance, did she like a good curry? Then there was the vampire, Javier Vachon. It was appallingly obvious that he cared for Tracy Vetter, might even be in love with her. He seemed far more controlled than the average vampire, which would only make him more dangerous.
So, he'd consulted Willow, talking with her about the ritual, trying to determine if she would be able to come and perform it, or if he would need to cast it himself. But there was apparently some sort of problem in Sunnydale, she refused to give him any details, insisting that they were managing just fine, but it meant that she couldn't pop up to Toronto. She'd asked questions about both Tracy and Natalie, and the process of answering Willow's questions had helped him sort out his own reactions. Tracy did sound far more likely to be a Potential than Natalie, considering her career, and the sort of things that went along with it. But Natalie had captured his interest.
Willow had suggested that he should ask her out for a cup of coffee. He'd blushed, and stammered something that he could hardly remember, something about this not being the time to try to get involved with someone, something about she surely wouldn't be interested in a stuffy old Englishman with crazed ideas... Willow had promptly told him that he was making excuses because he was afraid that this Natalie would say no. Most irritating was the fact that she was right.
He'd been forced to believe her. She'd insisted that he would be just fine performing the ritual, and that she could probably do something to send him a bit of a boost at the right time. It would have to do. Sighing, he'd began trying to find all of the proper ingredients. That had resulted in a rather amusingly frustrating search through the city, hunting for herb shops, occult supplies, even an organic food store, a place so unsettling that he hoped to never return.
Finally, he had all of the required ingredients. All the proper herbs, sea salt for protection, white candles to symbolize a pure intent... Leaving them in a bag, he began to look through the book he'd brought for the proper words, the correct ritual. Finally, he found it, and meticulously copied it onto a clean sheet of paper. He murmured over the words, making certain that he remembered the proper correct pronunciation for all of them. Sunnydale had taught them all to be most careful of words in other languages. Especially when combined with magic.
He made his way to the hospital, attempting to look like no more than another visitor, someone on their way to visit a friend or relative. Pausing in the gift shop, he bought a small arrangement of orange and yellow flowers for Miss Vetter, hoping that Willow had been right, that he could manage to help her. He refused to consider the possibility that she might not be a potential Slayer, that this ritual might not help her even if he did get it exactly right.
Natalie was already in the room, talking to Tracy about something or other, it sounded like a cat? She glanced towards him as he entered, taking a second look as he placed the flowers beside Tracy's bed.
"I hadn't expected you to bring her flowers." Natalie's voice was low, a bit husky as if she'd been speaking for a long time.
Giles felt himself growing pink under her gaze. "I was hoping... Miss Vetter seems to be a most capable and competent woman. And a competent police officer... She deserves a bit of recognition. Flowers are a small gesture, but I have a great deal of respect for her chosen career."
"And the bag? Is that everything for your... this ritual thing? Will it be very complicated?" Her voice was curious, and there were questions dancing in her eyes.
"Yes, the supplies are in the bag. I do hope that there will be no interruptions... Most hospitals have regulations about burning things in the rooms." He smiled a bit, trying to relax. It wasn't as if he'd never spoken to a pretty woman before...
"Her doctor should be in soon to check her vitals, and then there will be about four hours before a nurse comes in. Will that be enough time?" Natalie looked at Tracy again, touching a wisp of blond hair that had escaped to flop over a bandage.
Smiling slightly, he settled in the other chair, wondering how long it would take the doctor to check Tracy. "Quite sufficient. The ritual shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes."
As it turned out, the answer was that it didn't take the doctor terribly long. He did seem to be rather capable, although he seemed a bit remote. Perhaps he'd decided that his bedside manner was irrelevant when the patient was unconscious. He made a few notes on her chart, and left the room again, his shoes squeaking slightly on the floor.
"Well... that was brief." Giles shook his head as he pulled out the candles, then the salt and the bowl with a sealed sandwich bag holding the carefully prepared herbs. He moved the chairs back, clearing an area of the floor which he would sit on for the ritual. He made a careful circle of salt around him, asking that this circle be safe from harm or disruption. Placing one candle to his right and the other to his left, he closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind of any doubts and worries.
Natalie tried to smother a giggle as he produced a lighter for the candles. He smiled at her amusement, wondering what she had expected.
He placed the bowl on the floor and carefully sat behind it, momentarily wishing for the flexibility that he was sure he'd had at twenty. Placing a handful of the mixed herbs in the bowl, he began the chant, asking for the forces of good and protection to grant healing for the woman who would keep people safe. At the end of the chant, he lit the herbs in the bowl, the smoke curling up. He started the chant again, knowing that it called for the phrases to be repeated nine times, a handful of herbs being burned at every third repition. The smoke tickled at his nose and throat, trying to make him cough, and he could feel the power being pulled from him, as if stolen by the smoke.
Closing his eyes, he continued, missing the fact that the salt was now glowing faintly, the fact that the coils of smoke were all within the circle. Missing the fact that the candle flames were now pale green instead of yellow.
The door opened on the seventh repition, and there were two figures in the hall. One was Javier Vachon, the other an older looking man, a bit shorter, with pale eyes, and pale grey hair cropped short against his skull. Both of them were dressed in dark clothing, but the other carried an aura of danger that far surpassed Vachon's.
The pale glow from the salt flared brighter, rivaling the electric lights, and there was a popping noise from overhead. The light bulb went dark, and the shadows of the room changed, more intense, almost eerie. The candle flames had shot up, reaching as high as the candles themselves, long streaks of green over white.
On the ninth repition, the smoke coiled out, surrounding Tracy Vetter before seeming to sink into her skin. The candles winked out, the green flames gone, leaving only the scent of hot wax and the glow of the salt circle was the only illumination.
"Have we interrupted something?" The cool voice of the pale haired man filled the room, making Giles open his eyes in a flash.
"Oh dear... this is getting to be a bit much." He looked at the pair of vampires in dismay. While the man beside Vachon wasn't showing fangs or vampire eyes, there was no mistaking that predatory confidence, or the feeling of age and power that surrounded him.
end part 8.
Natalie looked at Vachon, trying to figure out a way to ask why LaCroix was here that wouldn't sound rude. She wasn't having much luck. She was also surprised by the ritual. She'd expected nothing more than some words, maybe a bit of smoke. But that... she couldn't argue that something had happened. She shivered, a bit intimidated.
"I did promise to keep an eye on Miss Vetter for Nicolas. I would be most remiss if I did not do so. Who is the spell caster on the floor?" He looked almost amused, although with LaCroix it was hard to tell exactly what he found amusing.
"Everyone seems to ask that. Apparently Toronto has some gaps in communication. I am Rupert Giles." He sounded exhausted, as if he'd just run a marathon.
"And did your spell help Tracy?" There was something, possibly the shadow of a threat in LaCroix' voice.
With a small sigh, Rupert looked at the old vampire, not quite making eye contact. "That was what it was supposed to do. I can't tell at the moment whether or not it actually succeeded in accelerating her healing speed or not."
"Your Latin has a decidedly provincial accent." With that pronouncement, LaCroix moved to Tracy's bedside, one hand touching her wrist lightly. "She does seem to be doing better than before."
Natalie couldn't quite contain the question, although she tried to keep the accusation out of her voice. "You knew about magic."
"Of course. It has been used by the physicians of the world for centuries. It was only recently that needles and charts replaced incantations and incense." There was definitely amusement in his voice.
"What interest does the Council of Watchers have in Tracy Vetter" There was steel in his voice as he turned back to face Rupert.
Scowling back, Rupert pulled himself to a standing position. "The Council doesn't know about her. I do, and I wanted to offer her some assistance in recovering."
"I know someone with the training of the Watchers when I see one." LaCroix was frowning, threat in every line of his body.
"They fired me, so I am no longer a member of the Council." There was defiance in Rupert's voice, and just a hint of worry. The circle still glowed around him.
Tilting his head slightly, LaCroix looked at him. "Why did they fire you?"
Natalie had that feeling again, the one where everyone else knew what was happening and she didn't. Glancing at Vachon, she felt a bit relieved by his look of confusion. If Nick had wanted LaCroix to keep an eye on Tracy... that definitely didn't sound like he'd be back any time soon, if at all. Something inside seemed to crumble.
"I objected to my Slayer being subjected to the Cruciamentum. I told her that the Council considered it a Rite of Passage. They decide that I had become too attached to her. They fired me." There was something, almost like a layer of ice in Rupert's words.
"When did this occur?" LaCroix seemed particularly interested, moving closer. He reminded Natalie of a cat stalking a mouse. He raised on hand, moving it slowly towards the air above the salt. There was a spark, almost like a moth contacting a bug zapper, and he frowned, pulling his hand back.
"Two years ago. She came through it, and told the council that they were fired." His voice shook just a bit with emotions.
"She sounds most... Interesting. Perhaps I can meet her." There was a lazy smile on LaCroix' face.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible. Buffy... Buffy died this spring." He paused, as if trying to regain control of himself. "On her behalf, I thank you for the compliment."
Suddenly, LaCroix frowned, looking back at Tracy. "What did you... ahhh. Congratulations, your spell worked." He turned to look at Vachon. "Keep a careful eye on her for a while."
Natalie felt better as LaCroix left the room, closing the door behind him. "What was that about?"
"She feels a little bit like a Slayer now. Probably a side effect of the spell." Vachon was at Tracy's side, smiling at her sleeping form.
"I'm going to assume that the Council doesn't need to know about Tracy. That he was not quite suggesting that they shouldn't know about her." Rupert's voice shook just a little as he relit the candles, their soft golden light seeming welcome and comforting. He stepped forward, crossing the salt, and that glow stopped, suddenly cut off. The room was darker now, feeling more secretive, almost separate.
Giles placed one candle on either side of the room, picking up the bowl carefully and rinsing it in the small sink. "I'll just... go let someone know about the light bulb."
Before leaving the room, he carefully made sweeping motions with his foot, scattering the salt from the circle until it was nothing more than a spill on the floor. "Good night to you both."
end part 9.
"How do you find out if someone is one of these potential Slayers?" The question was low, and it came from the vampire.
Rupert Giles sighed, wondering again why he'd agreed to do this. Oh yes, Buffy had died, and he'd felt miserable in Sunnydale. Now, he was searching Toronto, finding two of the women on his list were both involved with vampires. "That's actually quite complicated. Partly, there are certain families that the potential runs in, so those families are supposed to be watched. Girls with extraordinary reflexes, a lot of physical abilities... often a quick temper are considered to be candidates. If they continue to show a bit of a physical advantage, maybe a bit better at noticing things, a bit less likely to get sick, healing a little faster... Those are all signs to look for. But I'm afraid there isn't anything to say for certain 'that one is, that one isn't'. At least, I don't know of such a way."
"So these Watchers just find little athletes and make them into killers?" Natalie's question sounded as if she was attempting denial.
"We prefer the term protectors. Slayers protect the world from dangers that most people do not want to believe exist." He frowned, wondering if the vampires here were so entirely different away from the Hellmouth that she didn't understand the danger.
"The council never had trouble finding the Slayer." Vachon's dark eyes seemed to carry a subtle threat.
"When someone actually becomes the Slayer, there is sort of... well, almost a mystical transfer of energy, sort of a supernatural inheritance. Actual Slayers carry an unmistakable aura, but the signs in a potential are much more subtle, and I was never good enough at reading auras to spot those little signs. A coroner? Why did you choose to become a coroner?" He watched the two of them, suspicious of the vampire, worried about Natalie. She seemed almost fragile, not physically, but emotionally. It was obvious that she cared about Tracy, and was taking her hospitalization hard.
"What causes this mystical inheritance that you mentioned?" Natalie's eyes were full of questions, and she had the look of someone determined to unravel a mystery. It made her eyes sparkle like dark honey.
Pain almost seemed to stab through him at her inadvertent reminder. "A Slayer is called by the death of her predecessor. One dies, another is Chosen."
"They hunt the Lost Ones, don't they?" It looked as if something had just shifted into focus for Vachon. "The vampires that... they don't have anything inside to make them care, no worry over right or wrong, just... hunger. I was told that there was something that kept them from being too much of a menace, but..."
"The sort of vampires that the Council worries about... They generally tend to be evil, soul less, and ambitious. For some reason, ending the world seems to be a popular goal." He shook his head, clucking a bit at the persistent folly of such an idea. Why end the world?
"I became a coroner because I'd always had an interest in how things fit together. Then the idea of helping catch the people who just.. make everything stop, like breaking a toy... I'm good at sciences, and I can help people this way. Then, I met Nick, and... there were a whole new group of people that I could help." Natalie's voice carried both a wistful reminiscence and some more recent pain.
"Both of you in 'helping' careers, both trying to keep people safer. That certainly fits the sort of thing that I'd expected, although..." Giles sighed, wondering if this Nick was another vampire, where he was, what sort of feelings Natalie had for him. Apparently, both of them had vampires that they were attached to. "If Tracy is a potential Slayer, she most likely won't be called, not at her age. But if she is, there might be a ritual that can help her heal from this."
"Ritual? What, some sort of magic spell? There's no such thing as magic." Natalie's words were firm, perhaps covering worry or fear.
He looked at her, glancing also at the now thoughtful looking vampire. "Magic is as real as vampires. It can be a powerful tool."
"What sort of ritual? How would it work?" Vachon's voice was low, and his hand was over Tracy's.
"Some chanting in Latin, the burning of certain herbs... It would temporarily give her the healing of a Slayer, for a while, a few days, maybe a few weeks. But that would only be temporary." He frowned, part of him wanting to carry Tracy to somewhere that she would be safe, another part arguing the ridiculousness of the idea. "Perhaps I should ask Willow to help with that..."
"You think that some words and smoke will help her get better?" Natalie looked caught between shock and dismay.
Vachon looked up, a small smile on his face. "What could it hurt, Nat? If it would help Tracy get better... Isn't letting him say some words and burn a few things easier, safer than the alternatives?"
Natalie shivered, her eyes filled with memories. "And if it doesn't go right, we haven't lost... She'll still be the way she is now."
He let his forehead rest on his hand, sighing at the situation. He'd found two maybe potentials, both involved with vampires, and seemed to have talked himself into attempting to mystically aid the healing of one of them. "And things just continue to move in unexpected directions."
end part 6.
He seemed so certain of this. Natalie couldn't help but understand that regardless of the oddness of his words, Rupert Giles believed everything that he'd told them. He really believed in this 'Slayer' thing, although the fact that Vachon also had known what he was talking about made her inclined to think there was something real and scary to that. But magic? The idea made her shiver almost as much as the idea that vampires were real had first done.
But Vachon was right. If this ritual worked, Tracy would be better, and if it failed, they wouldn't have lost anything. But it still gave her the creeps. First vampires, now magic... what else would turn out to be real?
"Will this ritual be very difficult?" She felt silly for asking, after all, how hard could it be to say some words and burn some herbs?
"The difficulty..." He seemed to pause, as if considering the answer carefully. "The severity of her injuries are a bit of a complication. Maybe I should have Willow come to assist me..."
"Who's Willow?" Part of her wondered if all of this would just be a dream, but she knew better. What she was less certain about was the reasoning behind bringing someone else here.
"She's one of the people who help... helped Buffy. Willow has become quite proficient with magic, and is really much more powerful at it than I am." There was sorrow in his voice, and it made his eyes darker.
"Buffy was the Slayer?" Vachon's words were soft, and there was something in his expression that said he wasn't quite so hostile towards the man anymore.
"Yes, Buffy is... was the Slayer. She... died recently. Everyone is still rather upset about it." Tears glimmered in Rupert's eyes, and he blinked in an effort to keep them from falling.
"You were her watcher, her teacher and this council just sent you here to do this... investigation while you're still grieving?" Natalie felt herself becoming annoyed at this Council. Maybe Vachon had a reason for getting upset at their mention...
"They would have sent someone else if I hadn't come. And I still don't know what to tell them about you or Tracy. I might not tell them anything..." He shook his head, perhaps trying to chase away memories. "Willow suggested that going somewhere that isn't filled with memories of Buffy for a while might help."
"You wanted to keep them from stalking everyone, trying to make them council puppets?" Vachon sounded thoughtful.
"I learned a lot from Buffy. One of those lessons is that a destiny, or the potential of one, doesn't mean that she... any of the she's, actually, shouldn't have the chance for a life of their own." He sounded melancholy.
"Tracy wants a life, just not under the shadow of her father. I want her to have that life." Vachon's words were soft as he turned back towards Tracy, one hand brushing the side of her cheek, the bruises almost faded.
"We'll have to try to make certain that she gets the chance for that." Rupert Giles sighed, standing up slowly. "I will go back to my hotel. I'll most likely be back tomorrow or the next night, to check on Miss Vetter again."
Watching him leave, Natalie sighed. "He's certainly different. How much... magic? Are those things for real?"
Vachon shrugged. "I've heard about magic before. I haven't got any better explanations for a few things that I've seen..." He rubbed one hand over his shoulder, still bearing scars from Divia, the half crazed ancient vampire that had nearly killed him as a pawn in her vendetta against LaCroix. "But I know about the Council. He's right that they would have sent someone else."
"I just hope that he's really the guy he appears to be. I'd hate to find out that we've been tricked." She sighed, wondering if there was any way to be certain.
"That's pretty much all we can do. But if he hurts Tracy, I'm going to kill him." Vachon's words were oddly comforting.
end part 7.
Giles had called Willow in the morning, having spent several hours tossing and turning as sleep eluded him, chased away by thoughts of the two individuals that he'd encountered. Natalie Lambert... lovely, intelligent, possibly a potential Slayer, not that she would be called. He found himself wondering how she would look smiling, if she could dance, did she like a good curry? Then there was the vampire, Javier Vachon. It was appallingly obvious that he cared for Tracy Vetter, might even be in love with her. He seemed far more controlled than the average vampire, which would only make him more dangerous.
So, he'd consulted Willow, talking with her about the ritual, trying to determine if she would be able to come and perform it, or if he would need to cast it himself. But there was apparently some sort of problem in Sunnydale, she refused to give him any details, insisting that they were managing just fine, but it meant that she couldn't pop up to Toronto. She'd asked questions about both Tracy and Natalie, and the process of answering Willow's questions had helped him sort out his own reactions. Tracy did sound far more likely to be a Potential than Natalie, considering her career, and the sort of things that went along with it. But Natalie had captured his interest.
Willow had suggested that he should ask her out for a cup of coffee. He'd blushed, and stammered something that he could hardly remember, something about this not being the time to try to get involved with someone, something about she surely wouldn't be interested in a stuffy old Englishman with crazed ideas... Willow had promptly told him that he was making excuses because he was afraid that this Natalie would say no. Most irritating was the fact that she was right.
He'd been forced to believe her. She'd insisted that he would be just fine performing the ritual, and that she could probably do something to send him a bit of a boost at the right time. It would have to do. Sighing, he'd began trying to find all of the proper ingredients. That had resulted in a rather amusingly frustrating search through the city, hunting for herb shops, occult supplies, even an organic food store, a place so unsettling that he hoped to never return.
Finally, he had all of the required ingredients. All the proper herbs, sea salt for protection, white candles to symbolize a pure intent... Leaving them in a bag, he began to look through the book he'd brought for the proper words, the correct ritual. Finally, he found it, and meticulously copied it onto a clean sheet of paper. He murmured over the words, making certain that he remembered the proper correct pronunciation for all of them. Sunnydale had taught them all to be most careful of words in other languages. Especially when combined with magic.
He made his way to the hospital, attempting to look like no more than another visitor, someone on their way to visit a friend or relative. Pausing in the gift shop, he bought a small arrangement of orange and yellow flowers for Miss Vetter, hoping that Willow had been right, that he could manage to help her. He refused to consider the possibility that she might not be a potential Slayer, that this ritual might not help her even if he did get it exactly right.
Natalie was already in the room, talking to Tracy about something or other, it sounded like a cat? She glanced towards him as he entered, taking a second look as he placed the flowers beside Tracy's bed.
"I hadn't expected you to bring her flowers." Natalie's voice was low, a bit husky as if she'd been speaking for a long time.
Giles felt himself growing pink under her gaze. "I was hoping... Miss Vetter seems to be a most capable and competent woman. And a competent police officer... She deserves a bit of recognition. Flowers are a small gesture, but I have a great deal of respect for her chosen career."
"And the bag? Is that everything for your... this ritual thing? Will it be very complicated?" Her voice was curious, and there were questions dancing in her eyes.
"Yes, the supplies are in the bag. I do hope that there will be no interruptions... Most hospitals have regulations about burning things in the rooms." He smiled a bit, trying to relax. It wasn't as if he'd never spoken to a pretty woman before...
"Her doctor should be in soon to check her vitals, and then there will be about four hours before a nurse comes in. Will that be enough time?" Natalie looked at Tracy again, touching a wisp of blond hair that had escaped to flop over a bandage.
Smiling slightly, he settled in the other chair, wondering how long it would take the doctor to check Tracy. "Quite sufficient. The ritual shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes."
As it turned out, the answer was that it didn't take the doctor terribly long. He did seem to be rather capable, although he seemed a bit remote. Perhaps he'd decided that his bedside manner was irrelevant when the patient was unconscious. He made a few notes on her chart, and left the room again, his shoes squeaking slightly on the floor.
"Well... that was brief." Giles shook his head as he pulled out the candles, then the salt and the bowl with a sealed sandwich bag holding the carefully prepared herbs. He moved the chairs back, clearing an area of the floor which he would sit on for the ritual. He made a careful circle of salt around him, asking that this circle be safe from harm or disruption. Placing one candle to his right and the other to his left, he closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind of any doubts and worries.
Natalie tried to smother a giggle as he produced a lighter for the candles. He smiled at her amusement, wondering what she had expected.
He placed the bowl on the floor and carefully sat behind it, momentarily wishing for the flexibility that he was sure he'd had at twenty. Placing a handful of the mixed herbs in the bowl, he began the chant, asking for the forces of good and protection to grant healing for the woman who would keep people safe. At the end of the chant, he lit the herbs in the bowl, the smoke curling up. He started the chant again, knowing that it called for the phrases to be repeated nine times, a handful of herbs being burned at every third repition. The smoke tickled at his nose and throat, trying to make him cough, and he could feel the power being pulled from him, as if stolen by the smoke.
Closing his eyes, he continued, missing the fact that the salt was now glowing faintly, the fact that the coils of smoke were all within the circle. Missing the fact that the candle flames were now pale green instead of yellow.
The door opened on the seventh repition, and there were two figures in the hall. One was Javier Vachon, the other an older looking man, a bit shorter, with pale eyes, and pale grey hair cropped short against his skull. Both of them were dressed in dark clothing, but the other carried an aura of danger that far surpassed Vachon's.
The pale glow from the salt flared brighter, rivaling the electric lights, and there was a popping noise from overhead. The light bulb went dark, and the shadows of the room changed, more intense, almost eerie. The candle flames had shot up, reaching as high as the candles themselves, long streaks of green over white.
On the ninth repition, the smoke coiled out, surrounding Tracy Vetter before seeming to sink into her skin. The candles winked out, the green flames gone, leaving only the scent of hot wax and the glow of the salt circle was the only illumination.
"Have we interrupted something?" The cool voice of the pale haired man filled the room, making Giles open his eyes in a flash.
"Oh dear... this is getting to be a bit much." He looked at the pair of vampires in dismay. While the man beside Vachon wasn't showing fangs or vampire eyes, there was no mistaking that predatory confidence, or the feeling of age and power that surrounded him.
end part 8.
Natalie looked at Vachon, trying to figure out a way to ask why LaCroix was here that wouldn't sound rude. She wasn't having much luck. She was also surprised by the ritual. She'd expected nothing more than some words, maybe a bit of smoke. But that... she couldn't argue that something had happened. She shivered, a bit intimidated.
"I did promise to keep an eye on Miss Vetter for Nicolas. I would be most remiss if I did not do so. Who is the spell caster on the floor?" He looked almost amused, although with LaCroix it was hard to tell exactly what he found amusing.
"Everyone seems to ask that. Apparently Toronto has some gaps in communication. I am Rupert Giles." He sounded exhausted, as if he'd just run a marathon.
"And did your spell help Tracy?" There was something, possibly the shadow of a threat in LaCroix' voice.
With a small sigh, Rupert looked at the old vampire, not quite making eye contact. "That was what it was supposed to do. I can't tell at the moment whether or not it actually succeeded in accelerating her healing speed or not."
"Your Latin has a decidedly provincial accent." With that pronouncement, LaCroix moved to Tracy's bedside, one hand touching her wrist lightly. "She does seem to be doing better than before."
Natalie couldn't quite contain the question, although she tried to keep the accusation out of her voice. "You knew about magic."
"Of course. It has been used by the physicians of the world for centuries. It was only recently that needles and charts replaced incantations and incense." There was definitely amusement in his voice.
"What interest does the Council of Watchers have in Tracy Vetter" There was steel in his voice as he turned back to face Rupert.
Scowling back, Rupert pulled himself to a standing position. "The Council doesn't know about her. I do, and I wanted to offer her some assistance in recovering."
"I know someone with the training of the Watchers when I see one." LaCroix was frowning, threat in every line of his body.
"They fired me, so I am no longer a member of the Council." There was defiance in Rupert's voice, and just a hint of worry. The circle still glowed around him.
Tilting his head slightly, LaCroix looked at him. "Why did they fire you?"
Natalie had that feeling again, the one where everyone else knew what was happening and she didn't. Glancing at Vachon, she felt a bit relieved by his look of confusion. If Nick had wanted LaCroix to keep an eye on Tracy... that definitely didn't sound like he'd be back any time soon, if at all. Something inside seemed to crumble.
"I objected to my Slayer being subjected to the Cruciamentum. I told her that the Council considered it a Rite of Passage. They decide that I had become too attached to her. They fired me." There was something, almost like a layer of ice in Rupert's words.
"When did this occur?" LaCroix seemed particularly interested, moving closer. He reminded Natalie of a cat stalking a mouse. He raised on hand, moving it slowly towards the air above the salt. There was a spark, almost like a moth contacting a bug zapper, and he frowned, pulling his hand back.
"Two years ago. She came through it, and told the council that they were fired." His voice shook just a bit with emotions.
"She sounds most... Interesting. Perhaps I can meet her." There was a lazy smile on LaCroix' face.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible. Buffy... Buffy died this spring." He paused, as if trying to regain control of himself. "On her behalf, I thank you for the compliment."
Suddenly, LaCroix frowned, looking back at Tracy. "What did you... ahhh. Congratulations, your spell worked." He turned to look at Vachon. "Keep a careful eye on her for a while."
Natalie felt better as LaCroix left the room, closing the door behind him. "What was that about?"
"She feels a little bit like a Slayer now. Probably a side effect of the spell." Vachon was at Tracy's side, smiling at her sleeping form.
"I'm going to assume that the Council doesn't need to know about Tracy. That he was not quite suggesting that they shouldn't know about her." Rupert's voice shook just a little as he relit the candles, their soft golden light seeming welcome and comforting. He stepped forward, crossing the salt, and that glow stopped, suddenly cut off. The room was darker now, feeling more secretive, almost separate.
Giles placed one candle on either side of the room, picking up the bowl carefully and rinsing it in the small sink. "I'll just... go let someone know about the light bulb."
Before leaving the room, he carefully made sweeping motions with his foot, scattering the salt from the circle until it was nothing more than a spill on the floor. "Good night to you both."
end part 9.