Wesley found himself spending most of the night with his books, searching for things that could have rendered someone unconscious. As that was a very general possibility, the result was a large list, with a simple 'medical injury, head trauma' at the top, several categories of spells and rituals, and then families of demons. There were even a few types of mystical artifacts that could be responsible. If he had more information than simply 'unconscious, and no injury that should keep her from waking up' then he might be able to narrow it further. Was the state like sleep? Was it a deeper form of unconsciousness? Was she trapped in some sort of dream state or trance?
He wasn't certain quite when it happened, but somehow, he'd fallen asleep over his books. When he awoke, his first panicked thought was that he was being attacked by a gray tentacled monster with a tiny sickle. He jerked away with a half smothered squawk, then realizing that the 'attacking thing' was in fact an illustration in one of his books. Quite embarrassing, actually, and it made his feel very relieved that nobody seemed to be there to witness that little scene.
Shaking his head, he glanced over his notes, trying to remember where he'd stopped searching last night – or had that been earlier this morning? Sighing, he returned to his books, pausing only long enough to refill his teakettle. Bayville had been so quiet, well, on the demon front at least, that there almost had to be something. There had to be something, and if there was, it should be in his books… that was what years of specialized training on how to become a Watcher had taught him. Well, that and the fact that a man between twenty and forty in reasonable physical shape could function for close to seventy two hours on adrenalin and tea before having a fit of temper and passing out. Unless someone, such as a senior Watcher or a potential Slayer knocked him or her unconscious first… and yes, physical injury was on the list, and crossed out. Any capable medical facility would have checked for that.
Time blurred again, and Wesley felt something in his back protesting. Maybe he should move a little, get up, stretch out some of his muscles? Surely it couldn't hurt to do so. He felt like an old man, rising slowly from his seat, and he felt more like he was staggering out into the front of the store. If he did a few passes around the store to make certain that everything was running smoothly…
He heard near whispered voices, something about 'not ugly enough' countered by 'look in another volume'. The voices sounded oddly familiar… Slowly, with a rising sense of puzzlement mingled with dread, Wesley drew closer to the horror section, which actually contained copies of some of the more common volumes of demons as well as works of fiction. Kurt was there, with the boy who seemed to be somehow connected to Ororo, and they both looked very upset about something. There was a slightly crumpled paper that they kept looking at, as they flipped through the volumes, searching for something.
"Is there something that I can help you with? Kurt? And… I'm sorry, but I don't quite know your friend." Wesley had the feeling that their presence here was a clear sign that the 'something' that had affected one of their teachers wasn't responding to medicine.
The darker boy, who had nasty bruises and a few scrapes, looked as if he hadn't been sleeping well. He held up a paper with a drawing, looking almost like something from a Japanese animation, but quite clearly a demon. Actually, he thought that he remembered seeing something similar to that in one of his books… "I'm Evan."
Kurt looked over, his eyes full of worry. "It's… there are complications. Could we… talk in the back? I think… I hope you can help us."
"Of course, follow me. Do you care for tea, Evan?" Wesley made his way back to the office, his mind already working trying to remember where he'd seen the illustration.
"It's okay… Auntie O always has tea when she wants to relax." He paused, as if having some internal debate. "Something's wrong with her, and they can't seem to fix it. I think… I think it had to do with the thing that attacked her."
Wesley led them into his office, which was much more cluttered with books than it had been during Kurt's visit – had that been only yesterday? "Just move a stack, carefully. What did it look like?"
Kurt looked around, eyes wide. "Wow… have you been… all of this since yesterday?"
"Yes, well…" Wesley felt a bit awkward, tying to focus on pouring everyone some tea. "I had a few suspicions that whatever had happened to your teacher might not have been entirely… natural."
"It wasn't a mutant." There was something caught between fear and hostility in Evan's words, and his grip on the teacup was tight.
"Young man, I did not say that it was a mutant responsible for attacking… the person stricken by this. I said not entirely natural, referring to the possibility of something magical or demonic. I assure you that both are every bit as real as mutants." Wesley sighed, rubbing at his temple, trying to sooth the headache.
"Magic? Demons? Are you crazy?" Evan looked outraged, and stood up, in preparation to leave.
Wesley lifted a large book bound in greenish blue leather, opening it to the partial page of notes. There was an engraved illustration on the opposite page, the jutting lower tusks, the curling horns that reminded him of a bighorn sheep, the peculiarly lumpy texture of the hide of the demon, and one taloned hand clutching what appeared to be a marble sized sphere. "Is this what attacked your teacher?"
Evan took the book, his hands shaking. He stared at the illustration, Kurt leaning over to look as well. Slowly, he almost seemed to sink back into the chair.
"That… what is that?" Kurt's question was shocked, almost horrified.
Wesley sighed, searching for the bottle of pain killers. His father would be quite disappointed in him about now, he was certain of it. "It's called a Del'Perle demon. The name comes from a slurring of the Italian for collector of pearls. As far as demons go, it's not terribly dangerous except for one very notable and alarming ability. It can remove a person's soul, which is placed in the pearl, which isn't precisely a pearl, but that's an irrelevant detail. There has been considerable speculation on what the purpose of the soul pearls is, but what is known is that the demons keep them, sometimes building up impressive and terrible collections, and that if the pearl is retrieved in time, the soul will rejoin the body of the person. One simply has to get the pearl close enough."
"How long is… what is the time limit?" Kurt spoke, his voice quavering a bit.
"By historical precedent, generally around three days, after which the body, devoid of the soul and consciousness, generally withers and dies. Since you mentioned that she is getting medical care…" Wesley paused, trying to swallow the large feeling lump of dread in his throat. Surely the 'she' was Ororo. Hadn't Evan said his Auntie O? "I think our limit is the duration of her body's continued survival."
"Our limit?" Evan blinked, looking at him in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"
"I'm going to help you. You might… I'm assuming that the pair of you are mutants, but what do either of you know about demons?" Wesley looked at them, feeling as if the logic was perfectly obvious to him. Why didn't they see it as well?
End part 3.
He wasn't certain quite when it happened, but somehow, he'd fallen asleep over his books. When he awoke, his first panicked thought was that he was being attacked by a gray tentacled monster with a tiny sickle. He jerked away with a half smothered squawk, then realizing that the 'attacking thing' was in fact an illustration in one of his books. Quite embarrassing, actually, and it made his feel very relieved that nobody seemed to be there to witness that little scene.
Shaking his head, he glanced over his notes, trying to remember where he'd stopped searching last night – or had that been earlier this morning? Sighing, he returned to his books, pausing only long enough to refill his teakettle. Bayville had been so quiet, well, on the demon front at least, that there almost had to be something. There had to be something, and if there was, it should be in his books… that was what years of specialized training on how to become a Watcher had taught him. Well, that and the fact that a man between twenty and forty in reasonable physical shape could function for close to seventy two hours on adrenalin and tea before having a fit of temper and passing out. Unless someone, such as a senior Watcher or a potential Slayer knocked him or her unconscious first… and yes, physical injury was on the list, and crossed out. Any capable medical facility would have checked for that.
Time blurred again, and Wesley felt something in his back protesting. Maybe he should move a little, get up, stretch out some of his muscles? Surely it couldn't hurt to do so. He felt like an old man, rising slowly from his seat, and he felt more like he was staggering out into the front of the store. If he did a few passes around the store to make certain that everything was running smoothly…
He heard near whispered voices, something about 'not ugly enough' countered by 'look in another volume'. The voices sounded oddly familiar… Slowly, with a rising sense of puzzlement mingled with dread, Wesley drew closer to the horror section, which actually contained copies of some of the more common volumes of demons as well as works of fiction. Kurt was there, with the boy who seemed to be somehow connected to Ororo, and they both looked very upset about something. There was a slightly crumpled paper that they kept looking at, as they flipped through the volumes, searching for something.
"Is there something that I can help you with? Kurt? And… I'm sorry, but I don't quite know your friend." Wesley had the feeling that their presence here was a clear sign that the 'something' that had affected one of their teachers wasn't responding to medicine.
The darker boy, who had nasty bruises and a few scrapes, looked as if he hadn't been sleeping well. He held up a paper with a drawing, looking almost like something from a Japanese animation, but quite clearly a demon. Actually, he thought that he remembered seeing something similar to that in one of his books… "I'm Evan."
Kurt looked over, his eyes full of worry. "It's… there are complications. Could we… talk in the back? I think… I hope you can help us."
"Of course, follow me. Do you care for tea, Evan?" Wesley made his way back to the office, his mind already working trying to remember where he'd seen the illustration.
"It's okay… Auntie O always has tea when she wants to relax." He paused, as if having some internal debate. "Something's wrong with her, and they can't seem to fix it. I think… I think it had to do with the thing that attacked her."
Wesley led them into his office, which was much more cluttered with books than it had been during Kurt's visit – had that been only yesterday? "Just move a stack, carefully. What did it look like?"
Kurt looked around, eyes wide. "Wow… have you been… all of this since yesterday?"
"Yes, well…" Wesley felt a bit awkward, tying to focus on pouring everyone some tea. "I had a few suspicions that whatever had happened to your teacher might not have been entirely… natural."
"It wasn't a mutant." There was something caught between fear and hostility in Evan's words, and his grip on the teacup was tight.
"Young man, I did not say that it was a mutant responsible for attacking… the person stricken by this. I said not entirely natural, referring to the possibility of something magical or demonic. I assure you that both are every bit as real as mutants." Wesley sighed, rubbing at his temple, trying to sooth the headache.
"Magic? Demons? Are you crazy?" Evan looked outraged, and stood up, in preparation to leave.
Wesley lifted a large book bound in greenish blue leather, opening it to the partial page of notes. There was an engraved illustration on the opposite page, the jutting lower tusks, the curling horns that reminded him of a bighorn sheep, the peculiarly lumpy texture of the hide of the demon, and one taloned hand clutching what appeared to be a marble sized sphere. "Is this what attacked your teacher?"
Evan took the book, his hands shaking. He stared at the illustration, Kurt leaning over to look as well. Slowly, he almost seemed to sink back into the chair.
"That… what is that?" Kurt's question was shocked, almost horrified.
Wesley sighed, searching for the bottle of pain killers. His father would be quite disappointed in him about now, he was certain of it. "It's called a Del'Perle demon. The name comes from a slurring of the Italian for collector of pearls. As far as demons go, it's not terribly dangerous except for one very notable and alarming ability. It can remove a person's soul, which is placed in the pearl, which isn't precisely a pearl, but that's an irrelevant detail. There has been considerable speculation on what the purpose of the soul pearls is, but what is known is that the demons keep them, sometimes building up impressive and terrible collections, and that if the pearl is retrieved in time, the soul will rejoin the body of the person. One simply has to get the pearl close enough."
"How long is… what is the time limit?" Kurt spoke, his voice quavering a bit.
"By historical precedent, generally around three days, after which the body, devoid of the soul and consciousness, generally withers and dies. Since you mentioned that she is getting medical care…" Wesley paused, trying to swallow the large feeling lump of dread in his throat. Surely the 'she' was Ororo. Hadn't Evan said his Auntie O? "I think our limit is the duration of her body's continued survival."
"Our limit?" Evan blinked, looking at him in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"
"I'm going to help you. You might… I'm assuming that the pair of you are mutants, but what do either of you know about demons?" Wesley looked at them, feeling as if the logic was perfectly obvious to him. Why didn't they see it as well?
End part 3.