101
Angel was followed in by a nondescript person pushing a wheeled cart with a domed cover on top. Tantalizing scents drifted out from under the cover. Once the cart was well inside the room, the menial turned and left.
Angel came around the desk, grabbed hold of the chair back and wheeled Rose over to the cart. He removed the cover with a flourish. "Eat," he ordered.
"Blimey," Spike muttered. "Where'd all that come from?"
"Executive dining room," Angel explained. "I kind of forgot it was there."
"Well, it's not like you got much call for it, do you, mate?" the specter quipped. "Dig in, luv," he urged Rose.
Rose was looking at the array somewhat dismayed. "How many people did you order for, Angel? I can't possibly eat all this."
"Then I'll give you a hand with it," came a groggy voice from the other side of the room. When telephones and even a shouting ghost had failed to wake Wesley, the smell of food had. "How long have I been asleep?"
"No more than two hours," Angel replied. "Since that's about how long ago it was when you called me."
"Have you found anything yet, Rose?" Wesley started tucking in unashamedly.
"I may be on the track of something," Rose said slowly, between nibbles on a croissant. "But I'll have to double-check a few things. I got distracted."
"Distracted?" Wesley said through a mouthful of food. He swallowed. "Sorry. I didn't have any dinner last night." He looked back to Rose, waiting for an answer.
Crimson flame crept up Rose's face. "I can't believe all that yelling didn't wake you up," she muttered.
Angel turned on Spike. "You yelled at her?"
Spike glared back defiantly. "I bleedin' well did. She about scared it out of me, and all things considered, that's quite a trick."
Rose turned to Wesley. "And now you can see why I snuck out. I had had about all I could stand of hearing those two bicker and fuss."
Wesley gave her an understanding grin, while Spike and Angel whipped their heads around to look at her, with identical expressions on their faces. It struck Rose that the two of them were more alike than either one of them would care to admit, but the similarity of countenance.., she giggled.
"What's so funny?" Spike asked suspiciously.
Rose glanced at Wesley and saw that he had gotten the joke as well. The two of them went off into gales of laughter, leaving the debaters staring at them in confusion.
"Well?" Spike demanded, when they finally wound down.
"I really don't think you'd appreciate the joke," Wesley said.
"I'm sure of it," Rose agreed. Then, she saw the two of them watching her, again with similar expressions, and she just couldn't resist. "Absolutely amazing, they're almost identical."
"What?" From both Angel and Spike. With equally disgusted looks on their faces.
"Well, they spent quite a number of years in each other's company," Wesley reflected. "I'm sure that the time they shared left it's mark."
Angel threw up his hands in defeat and left. Spike was glaring at Wesley. "I am not in the least like him," he muttered. "See you later, pet." He disappeared.
Rose abandoned breakfast. She did, however, appropriate a couple of items from the cart. The salt shaker, and a linen napkin.
"What are you doing?" Wesley queried. It looked like Rose was trying to tear the linen square in half, but with no success. But why she was doing it was beyond him.
Rose gave up on tugging on the thing. "Do you have a pair of scissors in here somewhere?" she asked. "This stuff's just too hard to tear." She thought a moment. "I'll need some twine, too."
Wesley went to his desk and unearthed some scissors and string as well. He forbore from asking her any more questions, but merely watched her. Rose neatly cut the napkin in two, then divided the contents of the salt shaker between the pieces of fabric. Then, she twisted the fabric up around the piles of salt, wound some string around it, then made a largish loop of the string on each one. She slipped one around her neck and handed the other one to her department head.
"Mojos?" Wesley inquired. "You're going to go back into the actual Chronicles, aren't you, Rose?"
Rose nodded. "If I'm right, we'll need the protection, but the salt alone ought to be enough. You see, I don't think it really is a curse, or anything particularly malicious. I think it's a mistake."
"A mistake," he echoed. "You'd better show me what you mean, Rose."
"I think we're going to need the original copy," she said. "Your magic books won't quite do, since we may need the Chronicles themselves to undo the damage."
"I'll have to get Angel to release the text," Wesley muttered. "Do you think you could give me a good enough reason to give him for it? Considering how much trouble it's already caused?"
Rose dimpled. "Just tell him that I said so, and that it will be all right." She thought a moment. "And make sure that he doesn't tell Spike."
"A reasonable precaution," Wes agreed. He called Angel , and it seemed that Rose's word was enough for the vampire to go on. Soon, the two of them were on their ways to the bowels of the building to retrieve the original copy.
&&&&&&
Several hours later, still holed up in Wesley's office, the two heads were bent over the obscure tome. "There it is," said Rose triumphantly. She called up the copy of the text in Wesley's reference book. "That phrase is very crabbed and hard to read," she explained. "And it's quite possible that the scribe himself was illiterate, they often were."
"Yes," Wesley murmured in agreement. He rummaged around and found a magnifying glass. "I believe that you're right, Rose. The phrase in the copy text reads, 'death unto him who reads this', while the original seems to read the same way. Until a little imagination, and a magnifying glass are applied, then it seems to make it come out as, 'whosoever reads these words will release..,'"
Rose clapped her hand over the Watcher's mouth. "Be careful with that," she cautioned. "I don't want to let the demon-mage out until I'm ready to deal with him."
"Until you're ready..," Wesley was still looking a little shamefaced from what he had almost done, but the thought that she wanted to do it on purpose.., "Why would you want to release him?"
"Think about it, Wesley," she said. "If Ahmed Al-Shere was powerful and knowledgeable enough to seal his essence in a book to be released at a future date, what else may he be able to do?" Seeing that he still hadn't gotten her point, she added, "Spike."
"Oh." Understanding dawned. "Do you really think that he'll be able to help you with Spike? And more to the point, why would he?"
"Oh, I think he'll be repaid and plenty just by us releasing him," Rose replied blithely. "But we're definitely going to need some stronger protection than a couple of bags of salt. Just in case."
"I agree." Wesley stood and stretched. "Is there any coffee left?"
&&&&&&
They had let Angel in on the secret, they had to. Wesley felt it expedient to have a fully armed team ready to dispose of the demon should it prove unreasonable. Spike, they hadn't seen since breakfast, and Rose felt a certain amount of reluctance in regards to telling him about her plan. He might dismiss it as being too dangerous. Also, she was afraid of getting his hopes up in fear of having to dash them to the ground again. Then, there were all sorts of magical protections to arrange, bless, and bespell. At last, all was in readiness.
"That's it, I think," Rose said, tiredly. "But I think we'd better wait until tomorrow, we're both done in."
"I agree." Wesley stifled a yawn. "We're going to have to be sharp to deal with Al-Shere." Another yawn overtook him.
"What about the book?" she asked. "I don't think it should be left out. It's too dangerous. Should we return it to the vault?"
"And have to go through all that rigmarole getting it back again tomorrow?" Wes asked. "Tell you what, Rose, why don't I just walk you, and the book up to Angel's apartment. It ought to be safe there." Accordingly, the pair left the office. Wesley with the volume in question tucked under his arm.
"Do we have some kind of warding we can put on it, just in case?" Rose inquired. "If one mistranslated phrase could cause so many deaths, and nearly cause mine, I'd rather play it as safe as possible."
"Put it on some flat surface and ring it with salt," Wesley directed. "That ought to be enough. Remember, when we really started looking into the deaths, they would all have been avoidable if the persons involved had known enough to take precautions. We do know."
"All right," she said dubiously. "But only if Angel says it's okay. If he doesn't, then we'll just have to put up with the inconvenience of returning it to the vaults and getting it back in the morning."
"Have you thought about telling Spike about it?" Wesley asked, as they left the office.
"I don't know," she confessed. "I'd like to tell him. If Ahmed Al-Shere consents to help us, he may need to do some kind of reading on Spike to know exactly what kind of spell he needs to use. On the other hand, I'm afraid that Spike may have some reservations about accepting help from him. At least, unless we present it to him fait accompli."
"Why wouldn't Spike want to get his physical body back?" Wesley was mystified.
"I didn't say he didn't want it," Rose remarked. "It's just that if he finds out what we're contemplating, he may get a bit.., tetchy. About me doing something so potentially dangerous."
"I see." Wesley stood to one side to allow Rose to get in an elevator. "Do you really think that it was that misfired curse that caused the doctor to mistakenly prescribe for you?"
"Evidence to date suggests that it did," she pointed out. "There are a lot of dead bodies that are directly attributed to that book. I think I just got very, very lucky."
"Are you sure it was just luck?" he asked. "Couldn't it have something to do with..," Wesley let the sentence trail off, afraid of letting more out. He was certain that Rose would get the point.
Rose shook her head. "I sincerely doubt it. When one of us as an individual has a particular assignment, the rest of us don't interfere. And there have been occasions when one of us has returned prematurely because of the destruction of the host body."
"Host body?" Wesley repeated. "You didn't take someone else's body, did you, Rose?" He was utterly appalled at the notion.
"Of course not, Wesley." The elevator stopped and they stepped out. "I made it."
The ex-Watcher rolled his eyes. "I should have known better than to ask," he muttered. "What happens to it when you're done with it?"
"It will.., disperse," she murmured thoughtfully. "At least, that's the theory. I've never personally done it before. But since it's made from odds and ends floating about that I coaxed together, without my awareness to hold it together, that's what ought to happen."
"Incredible," he muttered. "You know, our information is sketchy at best, about you and your.., friends. I don't suppose that you would..,"
"Nice try." She smiled at him. "You're not supposed to know. If you did, you might get ideas. Like that you know better than we do." The smile became a frown. "Oh dear, that sounds terribly conceited, doesn't it? But we do have rather more perspective than you do."
"Conceded," Wesley agreed. He knocked on Angel's door, which was flung open almost instantly. Despite the sound-proofing, Angel had probably heard them coming. Even sound-proofing had its weak points.
Angel's eyes bugged a little when he saw what his head researcher was carrying. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked.
"The Chronicles of Ahmed Al-Shere," Wesley confirmed. "With your permission, I'd like to store it here for the night. Rose and I will need it again tomorrow."
"Will it be safe here?" he inquired. "Or, more to the point, will Rose be safe with it so near her?"
"I've given her instructions on warding it," Wesley replied. "It should be safe enough for one night. And Spike is still keeping an eye on her, isn't he?"
"You're damned right I am," Spike said, coming through a convenient wall. He walked up to Rose and peered at her solicitously. "Seeing as it was supposed to be a day off, you look all done in, luv," he observed. The mojo caught his eye. "What've you been up to?"
"Take my advice, Wesley," Rose said. "Make a strategic retreat while you can. And try to get a decent night's sleep."
Wesley's jaw was almost snapped by an enormous yawn. "That, I suspect," he mumbled, "will not be a problem." He set the book down and half-stumbled out of the apartment.
"Do you think he's fit to drive home?" Rose asked Angel.
"I'll have someone head him off in the parking garage and give him a lift," Angel assured her. "I don't think he's up to it any more than you do."
Rose moved away a bit to give Angel a bit of privacy while he made his call.
"You didn't answer my question, pet," Spike accused. "What's with the bag of magic tricks?"
"Just a little safety precaution," she soothed him. "Nothing dangerous." Then honesty compelled her to add, "at least, I hope not."
Before Spike could question her further, Angel rejoined them. "Wes said something about warding that book," he reminded her. "Is there anything you need for the wards?"
"Just a quantity of salt," she replied. "With luck, tonight will be the last time that book is in any way dangerous. We could have gone on, but Wes and I were both so tired, that we thought we'd better wait."
Angel nodded. "When Wes called me, I ordered you some dinner. It ought to be here soon. We can tell whoever delivers it to bring the salt you need." He felt kind of restless, in need of some soothing himself. He walked over to his entertainment center and started flipping through c.d.s.
"If you put on Barry Manilow," Spike warned. "I'll walk through that thing and screw up the circuitry."
"You can do that?" Rose asked.
"Did it by accident in the lab one day," he admitted. "Mucked up a rather delicate and expensive piece of electronic equipment. Fred wasn't half pissed. Something to do with what there is of me having some kind of electrical signature."
The room was suddenly filled with the strains of Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. Spike rolled his eyes.
"I like it," Rose defended Angel's choice of music. Spike shrugged his shoulders and gave up. He wasn't going to argue with her over something so petty. One of these nights though, he thought, he'd get his nancy-boy grandsire to take them out somewhere where Rose could hear some decent tunes.
&&&&&&
Rose climbed wearily into bed. Tonight she was wearing the green gown, and looked every bit as alluring as she had in the other. Spike settled in beside her.
"You going to take some of those sleeping pills, pet?" he asked.
Rose shook her head, burrowing it into the pillows. "I don't think so," she mumbled. "I'm already so tired that I feel like my head's about to fall off. I don't think I need the pills."
"If you get too antsy during the night, I'll wake you up and make you take 'em," he promised. "You wearing that thing to bed, sweetheart?" He indicated the bag around her neck.
Rose frowned, sat up and put the bag on the bedside table. "I'd better not," she remarked. "It might fall apart."
Spike forgot his resolutions about not letting her see his discontent with the current state of affairs. "Wish I could at least kiss you good-night," he muttered.
"So do I," she murmured sleepily. "Good-night, love."
"Sleep well, precious." And once more, Spike began a night-long vigil, watching over his beloved.