Getting Off The Griefmobile
By Annakovsky
See part 1 for all relevant info and disclaimer.
***********
CHAPTER TWENTY
***********
Faith was waiting to meet Giles at the Damascus Gate after his appointment with the collector who owned the tablet. She sat on a shady bench near the city wall, watching the little market set up near the gate and licking thoughtfully at a popsicle, which was beginning to drip. Damn hot out.
She saw Giles approaching from across the street, and waved casually at him. He was wearing a wide-brimmed, archaeologist hat to keep the sun off.
"Check out Indiana Giles," Faith said when he got close. "Bullwhip come with that outfit?" He gave her a withering look, but one that had a tinge of something else behind it, of hurt or something. They weren't quite back to normal. She winced a little and changed the subject. "So what's the scoop, they going to sell that tablet?"
Giles sighed, sitting down next to her. "No. Not for love or money."
Faith's lips quirked up. "Did you actually try offering love?"
"It very nearly came to that. It turns out they've already sold it, along with several other artifacts, to a buyer in Haifa. Who refuses to resell."
Faith looked at him. "So now what?"
He smiled slightly, then took off his glasses and cleaned them. "Now we try the, er, less legal way of acquiring antiquities."
She grinned. "Awesome," She took a bite of popsicle and chewed thoughtfully. "Won't it be a little suspicious if you go asking about the tablet and then the next day it gets stolen, though? It'll be hard to get out of the country with a warrant out on Rupert Giles."
"Well, I used a pseudonym at the meeting today."
"In case we needed to steal it?" she asked, surprised.
"Of course."
"Giles, you are wicked cool."
**
That night found them both dressed in black and following a car transporting the tablet to Haifa. Faith had a tranquilizer gun across her lap, absently tapping the barrel, and Giles drove one handed, his other arm resting on the edge of the open window. Both were wired, muscles ready to spring. There was a half moon setting in the west.
They reached Haifa and followed the car to a wealthy residential neighborhood outside the city. Giles stopped their rental car just down the block; the two of them quickly exited the car and Faith nailed the driver with the tranq gun as soon as he opened his door. There was no noise; the driver crumpled silently to the pavement.
Faith quickly got in the driver's side of their own car and pulled it up as Giles hurried to the briefcases fallen beside the driver. Within moments he had identified the tablet they needed, removed it from its cushioning molded foam, and gotten back in the car, Faith pulling smoothly away from the curb. The entire operation had taken about a minute and a half.
As Faith turned the corner of the street, Giles suddenly doubled over, making a muffled sound of pain.
"Giles?" she asked, worried. He didn't respond, his breathing labored. "Giles? Are you okay?" She started to pull over.
"No," he choked out. "Keep driving. I'm fine."
"The hell? You are not." But she kept driving, feeling frantic. "What's wrong?"
"It must be a curse," he managed to gasp out. "Protective. On the artifacts." He gasped for breath again. "Should've... anticipated it."
"What do we do?" Faith was driving as fast as she could, weaving in and out of traffic, taking crazy risks and pressing the accelerator.
"I think... must call Willow." He put out an arm to brace himself against the door as Faith took a corner too fast.
"Is it... can you breathe okay?"
"Yes, it's... not my lungs, just... pain. Everywhere." He seemed to be concentrating very hard on not losing self-control, his left hand clenching and unclenching. Faith drove faster.
He let out a low, horribly pained groan a moment later. "Maybe we should go to a hospital," she said, worried.
"No," he said. He didn't seem to have the energy to talk much more. His eyes were closed in his pale face, and his entire body was tensed. The only sound in the car was him gasping for breath.
He didn't react when they pulled up at the hotel.
"Giles, we're here." He looked up, confused, his eyes dilated. "Here, I'll get you." She ran around to his door and helped him out. He could walk, but with pain, and after a few slow moments coming up the walk she put his arm around her shoulders and moved him swiftly to the elevator. She hoped no one noticed that his feet weren't touching the floor.
When they got to the room, she lay him carefully on the bed and ran to the phone. Buffy picked up on the second ring.
"Buffy? I need to talk to Willow."
Buffy immediately caught the tension in Faith's voice. "Faith? What's going on? Is everyone all right?"
"Giles is... he thinks there was this curse and... just put Willow on the line, fast, okay?" One thing about Buffy, she moved quick in an emergency. Willow was on the phone in seconds, and Faith explained the whole situation to her.
"So Giles seemed to think that you'd be able to find a cure for this thing. It's...." She heard Giles trying to talk. "Hold on a second."
"I believe... it's the Anzu curse," he said, his voice strained.
"Did you hear that?" Faith asked Willow. "The Anzu curse." She could hear Willow fumbling with books on the other end.
"Yeah," Willow said. "I think I remember reading about that in the... oh! Here it is. Okay, yeah, there's a cure. It's not a deadly curse, it just inflicts severe pain on the thief until the artifact is returned, unless the counter curse is performed."
"Okay, so how do I do it?"
"I don't think you can - you need to be a pretty powerful witch to perform the spell. But there's a temporary relief thing you can do to stop the pain until you can get him here or to someone else who can do the counter curse. You have to make a salve and apply it to the small of his back. It's just a mix of sage, olive leaves, holy water and... oh, wait. Um. Human blood."
"Okay, I can do that."
"Faith, no. I mean, you can probably find a blood bank or something to get blood. Don't..." Willow trailed off.
Faith was first surprised at the assumption, then angry. "What? You think I'm going to go hurt somebody for this?"
"Well, uh..." Willow sounded apologetic. "How else were you going to get human blood?"
"I was going to use *my* blood, you...." Faith took a deep breath. "I really did reform, you know. And I have to say, I don't go around asking you if you've skinned anyone lately." Willow was quiet for a moment.
"Faith, I..."
"Never mind," Faith said, looking at Giles curled on the bed, his face grimacing in pain. "There's no time to play who was the bigger psycho. Tell me the proportions for this mixture." Willow sighed and did so. "Okay," Faith said. "So I just make the thing, put it on a hotel towel or something, and set it on his back?"
"Yeah. But you'll need to add more holy water every few hours to keep it from drying out. So make sure you get a lot."
"You got it. I'll call you guys back when it's working."
"Okay. And... sorry."
"Yeah," Faith said. "Later." She hung up and moved to the bedside. "Okay, Giles? I'm going to go get the stuff to make this potion thingy to fix you, okay?" He nodded slightly, and she impulsively leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I'll be back soon."
The sage and olive leaves were easy enough to find, and churches were a dime a dozen in Jerusalem. She ended up in St. Anne's, slinking up to the font and making sure no one much was around so that she could fill up a big canteen of holy water. She capped the container quickly, feeling vaguely ridiculous, and slipped out the back.
She was back in the hotel room in a half hour or so, and shut herself in the bathroom with all the stuff. Fumbling in her hurry, she mashed up the sage and olive leaves. Then she took her sharpest knife and, before she could think too much about it, made a quick cut on the inside of her left elbow, letting herself bleed onto one of the towels. When she judged there was enough blood, she bandaged her arm and mixed the leaves and holy water in as well.
It looked disgusting, but as soon as she laid the bloody mess onto Giles's bare back, his face cleared. He gave a long, contented sigh and she could see his tense muscles relax.
"It worked, huh?" she asked, excited. There was no response. "Giles?" She leaned over and found that he had already fallen asleep, exhausted from the hours of pain.
Relieved, she sighed and brushed his hair back from his forehead, then sat heavily in the chair by the bed and closed her eyes for a second. The panic of the evening receded; he was going to be okay. She set the bottle of holy water on the table beside her, ready to put more on the towel if Giles's pain started to come back. But for now his breathing was soft and even, his face open and free of pain.
Her arm throbbed. She began to redo the bandage over her shallow cut.
******
TBC...
******
NOTE: The title of this chapter is from Hebrews 10:22 (New International Version), which says "...without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness."
By Annakovsky
See part 1 for all relevant info and disclaimer.
***********
CHAPTER TWENTY
***********
Faith was waiting to meet Giles at the Damascus Gate after his appointment with the collector who owned the tablet. She sat on a shady bench near the city wall, watching the little market set up near the gate and licking thoughtfully at a popsicle, which was beginning to drip. Damn hot out.
She saw Giles approaching from across the street, and waved casually at him. He was wearing a wide-brimmed, archaeologist hat to keep the sun off.
"Check out Indiana Giles," Faith said when he got close. "Bullwhip come with that outfit?" He gave her a withering look, but one that had a tinge of something else behind it, of hurt or something. They weren't quite back to normal. She winced a little and changed the subject. "So what's the scoop, they going to sell that tablet?"
Giles sighed, sitting down next to her. "No. Not for love or money."
Faith's lips quirked up. "Did you actually try offering love?"
"It very nearly came to that. It turns out they've already sold it, along with several other artifacts, to a buyer in Haifa. Who refuses to resell."
Faith looked at him. "So now what?"
He smiled slightly, then took off his glasses and cleaned them. "Now we try the, er, less legal way of acquiring antiquities."
She grinned. "Awesome," She took a bite of popsicle and chewed thoughtfully. "Won't it be a little suspicious if you go asking about the tablet and then the next day it gets stolen, though? It'll be hard to get out of the country with a warrant out on Rupert Giles."
"Well, I used a pseudonym at the meeting today."
"In case we needed to steal it?" she asked, surprised.
"Of course."
"Giles, you are wicked cool."
**
That night found them both dressed in black and following a car transporting the tablet to Haifa. Faith had a tranquilizer gun across her lap, absently tapping the barrel, and Giles drove one handed, his other arm resting on the edge of the open window. Both were wired, muscles ready to spring. There was a half moon setting in the west.
They reached Haifa and followed the car to a wealthy residential neighborhood outside the city. Giles stopped their rental car just down the block; the two of them quickly exited the car and Faith nailed the driver with the tranq gun as soon as he opened his door. There was no noise; the driver crumpled silently to the pavement.
Faith quickly got in the driver's side of their own car and pulled it up as Giles hurried to the briefcases fallen beside the driver. Within moments he had identified the tablet they needed, removed it from its cushioning molded foam, and gotten back in the car, Faith pulling smoothly away from the curb. The entire operation had taken about a minute and a half.
As Faith turned the corner of the street, Giles suddenly doubled over, making a muffled sound of pain.
"Giles?" she asked, worried. He didn't respond, his breathing labored. "Giles? Are you okay?" She started to pull over.
"No," he choked out. "Keep driving. I'm fine."
"The hell? You are not." But she kept driving, feeling frantic. "What's wrong?"
"It must be a curse," he managed to gasp out. "Protective. On the artifacts." He gasped for breath again. "Should've... anticipated it."
"What do we do?" Faith was driving as fast as she could, weaving in and out of traffic, taking crazy risks and pressing the accelerator.
"I think... must call Willow." He put out an arm to brace himself against the door as Faith took a corner too fast.
"Is it... can you breathe okay?"
"Yes, it's... not my lungs, just... pain. Everywhere." He seemed to be concentrating very hard on not losing self-control, his left hand clenching and unclenching. Faith drove faster.
He let out a low, horribly pained groan a moment later. "Maybe we should go to a hospital," she said, worried.
"No," he said. He didn't seem to have the energy to talk much more. His eyes were closed in his pale face, and his entire body was tensed. The only sound in the car was him gasping for breath.
He didn't react when they pulled up at the hotel.
"Giles, we're here." He looked up, confused, his eyes dilated. "Here, I'll get you." She ran around to his door and helped him out. He could walk, but with pain, and after a few slow moments coming up the walk she put his arm around her shoulders and moved him swiftly to the elevator. She hoped no one noticed that his feet weren't touching the floor.
When they got to the room, she lay him carefully on the bed and ran to the phone. Buffy picked up on the second ring.
"Buffy? I need to talk to Willow."
Buffy immediately caught the tension in Faith's voice. "Faith? What's going on? Is everyone all right?"
"Giles is... he thinks there was this curse and... just put Willow on the line, fast, okay?" One thing about Buffy, she moved quick in an emergency. Willow was on the phone in seconds, and Faith explained the whole situation to her.
"So Giles seemed to think that you'd be able to find a cure for this thing. It's...." She heard Giles trying to talk. "Hold on a second."
"I believe... it's the Anzu curse," he said, his voice strained.
"Did you hear that?" Faith asked Willow. "The Anzu curse." She could hear Willow fumbling with books on the other end.
"Yeah," Willow said. "I think I remember reading about that in the... oh! Here it is. Okay, yeah, there's a cure. It's not a deadly curse, it just inflicts severe pain on the thief until the artifact is returned, unless the counter curse is performed."
"Okay, so how do I do it?"
"I don't think you can - you need to be a pretty powerful witch to perform the spell. But there's a temporary relief thing you can do to stop the pain until you can get him here or to someone else who can do the counter curse. You have to make a salve and apply it to the small of his back. It's just a mix of sage, olive leaves, holy water and... oh, wait. Um. Human blood."
"Okay, I can do that."
"Faith, no. I mean, you can probably find a blood bank or something to get blood. Don't..." Willow trailed off.
Faith was first surprised at the assumption, then angry. "What? You think I'm going to go hurt somebody for this?"
"Well, uh..." Willow sounded apologetic. "How else were you going to get human blood?"
"I was going to use *my* blood, you...." Faith took a deep breath. "I really did reform, you know. And I have to say, I don't go around asking you if you've skinned anyone lately." Willow was quiet for a moment.
"Faith, I..."
"Never mind," Faith said, looking at Giles curled on the bed, his face grimacing in pain. "There's no time to play who was the bigger psycho. Tell me the proportions for this mixture." Willow sighed and did so. "Okay," Faith said. "So I just make the thing, put it on a hotel towel or something, and set it on his back?"
"Yeah. But you'll need to add more holy water every few hours to keep it from drying out. So make sure you get a lot."
"You got it. I'll call you guys back when it's working."
"Okay. And... sorry."
"Yeah," Faith said. "Later." She hung up and moved to the bedside. "Okay, Giles? I'm going to go get the stuff to make this potion thingy to fix you, okay?" He nodded slightly, and she impulsively leaned over and kissed his forehead. "I'll be back soon."
The sage and olive leaves were easy enough to find, and churches were a dime a dozen in Jerusalem. She ended up in St. Anne's, slinking up to the font and making sure no one much was around so that she could fill up a big canteen of holy water. She capped the container quickly, feeling vaguely ridiculous, and slipped out the back.
She was back in the hotel room in a half hour or so, and shut herself in the bathroom with all the stuff. Fumbling in her hurry, she mashed up the sage and olive leaves. Then she took her sharpest knife and, before she could think too much about it, made a quick cut on the inside of her left elbow, letting herself bleed onto one of the towels. When she judged there was enough blood, she bandaged her arm and mixed the leaves and holy water in as well.
It looked disgusting, but as soon as she laid the bloody mess onto Giles's bare back, his face cleared. He gave a long, contented sigh and she could see his tense muscles relax.
"It worked, huh?" she asked, excited. There was no response. "Giles?" She leaned over and found that he had already fallen asleep, exhausted from the hours of pain.
Relieved, she sighed and brushed his hair back from his forehead, then sat heavily in the chair by the bed and closed her eyes for a second. The panic of the evening receded; he was going to be okay. She set the bottle of holy water on the table beside her, ready to put more on the towel if Giles's pain started to come back. But for now his breathing was soft and even, his face open and free of pain.
Her arm throbbed. She began to redo the bandage over her shallow cut.
******
TBC...
******
NOTE: The title of this chapter is from Hebrews 10:22 (New International Version), which says "...without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness."