More again, and aren't ya glad the plot is finally thickening? Even if I
don't own the characters, Joss and Tolkien do. Lucky devils. Wish I owned
a couple of blond-haired blue-eyed immortals. Just a couple of quick
notes: Fancy- here's your fix! And Airielle, I'm glad you think my fic is
groovy, and you'll get your answer in chapter form when I post next, which
might be by the end of the week, with any luck. Also, thanks for your
honesty Calendar. I may not agree with you (of course I don't- I'm a
narrow-sighted author who thinks every word that pours from her mouth is
sheer poetry. pfft) but I respect your opinion and I'm glad you took the
time to give me a strong argument in your review.
Ok, my feet hurt from all the review-dancing I've been doing, so I'm afraid
I'm gonna have to cancel the dancing this time. Sorry. How about loads of
happy thoughts in exchange for your review? Well, here's the next chapter,
something with an old family member. . . Who could it be??? Enjoy,
~Anoron
CHAPTER ELEVEN- RACES AGAINST INNOCENT EVILS
The engine of Spike's motorcycle roared as he hurtled down the highway. After riding for several hours through the night, he came to a stop at a small, rank looking bar on the highway. It was only minutes before he was in the back room, speaking with a seedy Warlock.
"I hear you got a nifty little potion, gets a fellow wherever he wants to go," William the Bloody announced, throwing himself into a chair brashly. He fought the urge to rip the Warlock's throat out on principle, he was just like Rack if the hoard of desperate magic junkies littering the waiting room were any indication.
"And how does this concern you, vampire? More importantly, how does this serve me?" the Warlock's eyes glittered greedily.
"Right then," Spike resigned himself to the usual Warlock price. "Show me the stuff, you get the tour of my neat little vampirically mystical self, and I take my potion and be on my way."
"Not how it works with vampires," came the counter.
"Well, just in case, I brought a whole bunch of dead guys on green paper," the vampire reached into his duster and produced an impressive wad of cash. Stolen, naturally.
"Well then, I believe we can do business," the Warlock replied with a sardonic grin, heading over to a cabinet. He pulled out a small vial and laid it on the table.
"And this is guaranteed to work?" Spike clarified.
"There's a catch. Once the potion is taken, there is a choice. You pick where you want to go, and you'd better make sure you pick right, becuase once the potion takes effect, there's no going back," warned the Warlock.
Spike reached out and snatched up the vial. "Right then."
Magic crackled from the Warlock's hands as he advanced towards Spike. "My payment," he reminded him, his tone threatening.
With one last contemptuous look at the Warlock dealer, Spike flung his wad of cash at him and stormed out to his motorcycle, the vial safely nestled in the inner pocket of his duster.
* * * * *
Spike slammed the vial down on Dawn's dresser proudly. "Got it!"
Dawn looked over, mildly curious as to what Spike had brought her.
Spike waited a beat for her to react, his beaming grin frozen in place. He wiped the smile from his face and gave her a look when several seconds passed with no response from Dawn. "Well? That's your ticket home, Tarien. Aren't you happy? I'll be expecting your heartfelt gratitude any moment now. . ."
"Thank you, Spike," Dawn's tired voice was void of any real thankfulness, but Spike could see a small glimmer of it in her eyes, mixed with her indecision. He knew at once that she would not be drinking the potion straight away.
"Look, pet, there's something you need to know about the potion. Once you drink it, you need to make your choice. Once you decide to go home and drink the potion, there's no coming back. It's a done deal."
Dawn nodded dumbly. Spike watched her for a few seconds more before leaving her alone without another word. She would need some time to take it all in. Dawn switched the light off as the vampire left, preferring the dull glow of the candle at her bedside. She turned and tensed, catching sight of a bulk moving slowly in the shadows.
"Who's there?" Dawn demanded, reaching for a weapon.
Buffy's body went rigid as she heard Dawn's voice. She crept out of her room and down the hall, ready to ambush anyone who dared attack her sister. She paused in the shadows of the hall, watching the figure in the corner Dawn's room like a hawk.
The figure in the shadows shifted, and Dawn could make out its hands were held up in gesture of peace. It began to move slowly forwards, coming into the light.
"Estel," she gasped.
Her brother smiled gently at her, his grey eyes shining with warmth and concern. "You've not aged a day, Seler'nin."
"And you've dropped a fair few days yourself, big brother," Dawn commented wryly.
It was true, Estel seemed to be in the prime of his life, appearing before Dawn just as he had looked back in his glory days, the first years of the reign of the high King Elessar.
The blood drained from Buffy's face as she listened to the conversation. Why had Dawn just called this man, more accurately, this apparition of a man dressed in medieval clothing, big brother? Who forged sibling type relationships with someone in a hell dimension? Buffy well remembered her little stint in hell the summer after she'd killed Angel, and she knew it was hard enough keeping yourself alive in one of those places, let alone have time to bond.
"Yes, I am looking quite well, aren't I?" Estel grinned smugly as he reached over and took Dawn's hand in his. "But now I must wonder what am I to do to get my Dawny looking well again herself."
Dawn pulled her hand from his. She turned and looked out the window. When she spoke, her voice was so low that Buffy had to strain to hear it from the hall. "You can make it go away."
"What would you have me banish then?" He patted Anduril, as ever sheathed at his side, as if one stroke of the blade could solve all Dawn's problems.
"Everything."
"Well, there is some limitations even to my power," Estel joked grimly. His eyes shone with sorrow, betraying how badly he wished he could grant his little sister's request and see her smile again.
"No, the great King of Men, Elessar Telcontar, my big brother, has limitations to his power? I never would've guessed. Must suck to be mortal," Dawn responded, turning back to him.
Estel almost laughed at the apparent joke, but he quickly realised there was no humour to Dawn's voice, not even her famous dry wit of old.
"I don't know about that, Dawny. To look at you, one might say it must suck to be immortal," he countered, his nose wrinkling a little with the use of the strange expression.
'Immortal?' Buffy thought. She pressed her tiny form against the wall for support, a sinking feeling settling deep into the pit of her stomach. It couldn't be. . . Tara had done an aura scan, there was no way Dawn had been in heaven. Buffy physically shook her head as if to dispel the awful notion.
Stepping forward, the late King placed a gentle hand on Dawn's cheek. "You're not happy here, little sister."
"Of course I'm not. How could I be?" Dawn retorted, the barest hint of fire in her eyes. "They keep telling me that this is my home. It's not."
Buffy pushed herself away from the wall and ran down the hallway. She took the stairs silently and was out the front door in a flash, running for the Magic Box. As she ran, she hastily whipped a few confused and frightened tears from her cheeks.
"Then why not go home? You have the means, you could be back where you belong in a heartbeat. Drink the potion, Seler'nin. For yourself and your husband." He gestured to the untouched vial sitting on the dresser, but Dawn refused to even look at it.
"For him? He hates me, Estel. The dreams- he won't even look at me, he thinks I betrayed him. Besides, who says I belong there anyway? If I really did, how could the powers let this happen?"
"'Tis not their place to interfere with all the workings of the lower beings. They leave us, for the most part, to our own devices. Galadriel sends word to you; Remember what she has given you in the past. Your destiny is your own and you choose the path for your feet," Estel recited.
"Galadriel sent you here?" Dawn asked. "How could she do that?"
Estel smiled. "With the aid of some old friends. Elrond and Gandalf helped her to summon me from my rest and bring me here to talk with you a while. I am told Gimli, Thranduil, Frodo and Sam send their love from Valinor as well."
"Great," Dawn replied unenthusiastically. "Anything else?"
"Yes, Galadriel bade me tell you to follow your heart, it will lead your feet home."
Dawn sat down on the bed, dejected. "I don't trust my heart's sense of direction right now, Estel. I want to go home, want Legolas, want everything to be real and right again, but I don't think I can. Look at me. There's nothing left to me, nothing he could possibly want. He's better off just letting me go."
Estel studied her face creafully. It was a blank canvass it seemed, a shadow of her old character and it pained him to think she must suffer in this way needlessly. He looked to a picture on her dresser, of her family here in Sunnydale. He picked it up, truly impressed with the detail captured by the artist. Whoever had created this portrait must have some wonderous skill, he realised.
"This is a marvellous work of art," he praised.
"It's a photograph, Estel," Dawn responded dryly.
Estel frowned. Was that supposed to explain something to him?
"Why didn't you tell them?" he asked, wanting to know why she hadn't just told these people what they had done to her, hopefully have them aid her in remedying the situation.
"They don't want to know," came the flat reply. "They never want to know."
A sudden light feeling came over Estel. He waited a moment for it to pass and smiled sadly at Dawn and she rose to her feet. "I must go soon."
The intensity in his voice deepened and he grasped her by the shoulders. "Seler'nin please listen to me. Whatever you believe, however you hurt, you and Legolas belong together, and you need each other. I would not have given him your hand if I did not believe in the word forever and you made a promise that you would honour that. Not only to your husband, but to your brother and I would hold you to it."
"But I don't think I can hold myself to it, Estel."
Estel closed his eyes against the tears threatening to well up in them. In all his life and beyond, the one person he'd never believed he'd see broken was his sister, the most incredible human woman he'd ever been privileged to know. Yet here she was. Broken.
"Dawn, please," he began, only to be cut off by another, fiercer wave of lightness. When it passed, he opened his eyes and locked onto her apathetic green orbs. "Go home, and be happy. You deserve it and you owe it to everybody who knows and loves you. Also, I need you to give Arwen a message for me. Tell her she doesn't have to be lonely. Nobody should."
His last words were spoken so deliberately that Dawn knew he was referring to her as well. She looked at him helplessly, undecided still. Estel felt himself fading and knew the time had come for him to leave. He kissed Dawn's cheek softly and held her to him.
"Lle caela ilya amin meleth, Seler'nin," he reminded her firmly. [You have all my love, my sister.]
"I love you too, Estel," Dawn responded. She almost cringed as she noted the hint of disappointment her brother was unable to keep from his eyes as he looked at her. She was failing him.
She squeezed her eyes closed to block out the look in Estel's eyes, and when she opened them again, he was gone. One last message from her brother's fading voice reached her ears as he left her; "Happy birthday, Seler'nin."
Dawn was stunned. She hadn't even remembered that this day, the same day a hundred years ago she jumped into the portal and landed in Middle- Earth, was the day they had always laughingly celebrated as her birthday.
* * * * *
Buffy burst into the Magic Box, puffing slightly from the exertion of having sprinted all the way there.
"Buffy? What's wrong?" Giles was immediately at his Slayer's side. He went to lead her to a chair, but Buffy brushed him off.
She stood before her friends who had worked so tirelessly to help her bring her sister back from the dead, a haunted expression shadowing her eyes and her face almost ashen. She couldn't meet anyone's eyes.
"I think we made a mistake," she admitted, her voice thick.
"What do you mean, Buff?" Xander asked, closing his book. He was concerned about the condition his best friend was in, but that didn't mean he wasn't excited at the prospect of having an excuse to stop reading for a little while.
"With Dawn."
Willow furrowed her brow. "What about Dawn? Do you think we're researching how to help her from the wrong angle?"
"She's not happy," Buffy said. Her sentences were coming in short, monotonous bursts as she tried to sort through the confusion crowding her mind. "She should be happy."
"We know that, sweetie. That's why we're trying to find something here that will help her. And we will," Tara affirmed in her most reassuring voice.
"Buffy, you knew this would be a risk with bringing Dawn back," Giles reminded her gently. "And you of all people should be able to understand, since you yourself have gone through much the same thing only a couple of years ago. Dawn just needs time to adjust."
"She's had a month. She should be showing some progress by now. I think we made a mistake," she repeated.
"You can't just give up on her!" Xander exploded.
"Xander's right," Willow chimed in. "Just beacuse she's taking a little time to adjust, doesn't mean we should just lose hope, make her do it on her own. We're here, Buffy, and we're doing everything we can to help her, but if her own sister's going to just give up on her-"
"I'm not!" Buffy cried. "I just. . . think we should've put a little more planning into it before we just went ahead and resurrected Dawn."
"But, it's us," Xander's nose was wrinkled in confusion. "We never put any more planning into anything, Buff. You know that. Sometimes we even skip the whole planning bit altogether."
Buffy stared at her friends for a minute, then ducked her head a little. Maybe they were right. Maybe she was giving up on Dawn prematurely. What kind of sister would do something like that? It was her; she was wrong and Dawn would be fine sometime soon and then she would laugh at herself for ever thinking something so ridiculous.
"You're right. She just needs more time."
* * * * *
CHAPTER ELEVEN- RACES AGAINST INNOCENT EVILS
The engine of Spike's motorcycle roared as he hurtled down the highway. After riding for several hours through the night, he came to a stop at a small, rank looking bar on the highway. It was only minutes before he was in the back room, speaking with a seedy Warlock.
"I hear you got a nifty little potion, gets a fellow wherever he wants to go," William the Bloody announced, throwing himself into a chair brashly. He fought the urge to rip the Warlock's throat out on principle, he was just like Rack if the hoard of desperate magic junkies littering the waiting room were any indication.
"And how does this concern you, vampire? More importantly, how does this serve me?" the Warlock's eyes glittered greedily.
"Right then," Spike resigned himself to the usual Warlock price. "Show me the stuff, you get the tour of my neat little vampirically mystical self, and I take my potion and be on my way."
"Not how it works with vampires," came the counter.
"Well, just in case, I brought a whole bunch of dead guys on green paper," the vampire reached into his duster and produced an impressive wad of cash. Stolen, naturally.
"Well then, I believe we can do business," the Warlock replied with a sardonic grin, heading over to a cabinet. He pulled out a small vial and laid it on the table.
"And this is guaranteed to work?" Spike clarified.
"There's a catch. Once the potion is taken, there is a choice. You pick where you want to go, and you'd better make sure you pick right, becuase once the potion takes effect, there's no going back," warned the Warlock.
Spike reached out and snatched up the vial. "Right then."
Magic crackled from the Warlock's hands as he advanced towards Spike. "My payment," he reminded him, his tone threatening.
With one last contemptuous look at the Warlock dealer, Spike flung his wad of cash at him and stormed out to his motorcycle, the vial safely nestled in the inner pocket of his duster.
* * * * *
Spike slammed the vial down on Dawn's dresser proudly. "Got it!"
Dawn looked over, mildly curious as to what Spike had brought her.
Spike waited a beat for her to react, his beaming grin frozen in place. He wiped the smile from his face and gave her a look when several seconds passed with no response from Dawn. "Well? That's your ticket home, Tarien. Aren't you happy? I'll be expecting your heartfelt gratitude any moment now. . ."
"Thank you, Spike," Dawn's tired voice was void of any real thankfulness, but Spike could see a small glimmer of it in her eyes, mixed with her indecision. He knew at once that she would not be drinking the potion straight away.
"Look, pet, there's something you need to know about the potion. Once you drink it, you need to make your choice. Once you decide to go home and drink the potion, there's no coming back. It's a done deal."
Dawn nodded dumbly. Spike watched her for a few seconds more before leaving her alone without another word. She would need some time to take it all in. Dawn switched the light off as the vampire left, preferring the dull glow of the candle at her bedside. She turned and tensed, catching sight of a bulk moving slowly in the shadows.
"Who's there?" Dawn demanded, reaching for a weapon.
Buffy's body went rigid as she heard Dawn's voice. She crept out of her room and down the hall, ready to ambush anyone who dared attack her sister. She paused in the shadows of the hall, watching the figure in the corner Dawn's room like a hawk.
The figure in the shadows shifted, and Dawn could make out its hands were held up in gesture of peace. It began to move slowly forwards, coming into the light.
"Estel," she gasped.
Her brother smiled gently at her, his grey eyes shining with warmth and concern. "You've not aged a day, Seler'nin."
"And you've dropped a fair few days yourself, big brother," Dawn commented wryly.
It was true, Estel seemed to be in the prime of his life, appearing before Dawn just as he had looked back in his glory days, the first years of the reign of the high King Elessar.
The blood drained from Buffy's face as she listened to the conversation. Why had Dawn just called this man, more accurately, this apparition of a man dressed in medieval clothing, big brother? Who forged sibling type relationships with someone in a hell dimension? Buffy well remembered her little stint in hell the summer after she'd killed Angel, and she knew it was hard enough keeping yourself alive in one of those places, let alone have time to bond.
"Yes, I am looking quite well, aren't I?" Estel grinned smugly as he reached over and took Dawn's hand in his. "But now I must wonder what am I to do to get my Dawny looking well again herself."
Dawn pulled her hand from his. She turned and looked out the window. When she spoke, her voice was so low that Buffy had to strain to hear it from the hall. "You can make it go away."
"What would you have me banish then?" He patted Anduril, as ever sheathed at his side, as if one stroke of the blade could solve all Dawn's problems.
"Everything."
"Well, there is some limitations even to my power," Estel joked grimly. His eyes shone with sorrow, betraying how badly he wished he could grant his little sister's request and see her smile again.
"No, the great King of Men, Elessar Telcontar, my big brother, has limitations to his power? I never would've guessed. Must suck to be mortal," Dawn responded, turning back to him.
Estel almost laughed at the apparent joke, but he quickly realised there was no humour to Dawn's voice, not even her famous dry wit of old.
"I don't know about that, Dawny. To look at you, one might say it must suck to be immortal," he countered, his nose wrinkling a little with the use of the strange expression.
'Immortal?' Buffy thought. She pressed her tiny form against the wall for support, a sinking feeling settling deep into the pit of her stomach. It couldn't be. . . Tara had done an aura scan, there was no way Dawn had been in heaven. Buffy physically shook her head as if to dispel the awful notion.
Stepping forward, the late King placed a gentle hand on Dawn's cheek. "You're not happy here, little sister."
"Of course I'm not. How could I be?" Dawn retorted, the barest hint of fire in her eyes. "They keep telling me that this is my home. It's not."
Buffy pushed herself away from the wall and ran down the hallway. She took the stairs silently and was out the front door in a flash, running for the Magic Box. As she ran, she hastily whipped a few confused and frightened tears from her cheeks.
"Then why not go home? You have the means, you could be back where you belong in a heartbeat. Drink the potion, Seler'nin. For yourself and your husband." He gestured to the untouched vial sitting on the dresser, but Dawn refused to even look at it.
"For him? He hates me, Estel. The dreams- he won't even look at me, he thinks I betrayed him. Besides, who says I belong there anyway? If I really did, how could the powers let this happen?"
"'Tis not their place to interfere with all the workings of the lower beings. They leave us, for the most part, to our own devices. Galadriel sends word to you; Remember what she has given you in the past. Your destiny is your own and you choose the path for your feet," Estel recited.
"Galadriel sent you here?" Dawn asked. "How could she do that?"
Estel smiled. "With the aid of some old friends. Elrond and Gandalf helped her to summon me from my rest and bring me here to talk with you a while. I am told Gimli, Thranduil, Frodo and Sam send their love from Valinor as well."
"Great," Dawn replied unenthusiastically. "Anything else?"
"Yes, Galadriel bade me tell you to follow your heart, it will lead your feet home."
Dawn sat down on the bed, dejected. "I don't trust my heart's sense of direction right now, Estel. I want to go home, want Legolas, want everything to be real and right again, but I don't think I can. Look at me. There's nothing left to me, nothing he could possibly want. He's better off just letting me go."
Estel studied her face creafully. It was a blank canvass it seemed, a shadow of her old character and it pained him to think she must suffer in this way needlessly. He looked to a picture on her dresser, of her family here in Sunnydale. He picked it up, truly impressed with the detail captured by the artist. Whoever had created this portrait must have some wonderous skill, he realised.
"This is a marvellous work of art," he praised.
"It's a photograph, Estel," Dawn responded dryly.
Estel frowned. Was that supposed to explain something to him?
"Why didn't you tell them?" he asked, wanting to know why she hadn't just told these people what they had done to her, hopefully have them aid her in remedying the situation.
"They don't want to know," came the flat reply. "They never want to know."
A sudden light feeling came over Estel. He waited a moment for it to pass and smiled sadly at Dawn and she rose to her feet. "I must go soon."
The intensity in his voice deepened and he grasped her by the shoulders. "Seler'nin please listen to me. Whatever you believe, however you hurt, you and Legolas belong together, and you need each other. I would not have given him your hand if I did not believe in the word forever and you made a promise that you would honour that. Not only to your husband, but to your brother and I would hold you to it."
"But I don't think I can hold myself to it, Estel."
Estel closed his eyes against the tears threatening to well up in them. In all his life and beyond, the one person he'd never believed he'd see broken was his sister, the most incredible human woman he'd ever been privileged to know. Yet here she was. Broken.
"Dawn, please," he began, only to be cut off by another, fiercer wave of lightness. When it passed, he opened his eyes and locked onto her apathetic green orbs. "Go home, and be happy. You deserve it and you owe it to everybody who knows and loves you. Also, I need you to give Arwen a message for me. Tell her she doesn't have to be lonely. Nobody should."
His last words were spoken so deliberately that Dawn knew he was referring to her as well. She looked at him helplessly, undecided still. Estel felt himself fading and knew the time had come for him to leave. He kissed Dawn's cheek softly and held her to him.
"Lle caela ilya amin meleth, Seler'nin," he reminded her firmly. [You have all my love, my sister.]
"I love you too, Estel," Dawn responded. She almost cringed as she noted the hint of disappointment her brother was unable to keep from his eyes as he looked at her. She was failing him.
She squeezed her eyes closed to block out the look in Estel's eyes, and when she opened them again, he was gone. One last message from her brother's fading voice reached her ears as he left her; "Happy birthday, Seler'nin."
Dawn was stunned. She hadn't even remembered that this day, the same day a hundred years ago she jumped into the portal and landed in Middle- Earth, was the day they had always laughingly celebrated as her birthday.
* * * * *
Buffy burst into the Magic Box, puffing slightly from the exertion of having sprinted all the way there.
"Buffy? What's wrong?" Giles was immediately at his Slayer's side. He went to lead her to a chair, but Buffy brushed him off.
She stood before her friends who had worked so tirelessly to help her bring her sister back from the dead, a haunted expression shadowing her eyes and her face almost ashen. She couldn't meet anyone's eyes.
"I think we made a mistake," she admitted, her voice thick.
"What do you mean, Buff?" Xander asked, closing his book. He was concerned about the condition his best friend was in, but that didn't mean he wasn't excited at the prospect of having an excuse to stop reading for a little while.
"With Dawn."
Willow furrowed her brow. "What about Dawn? Do you think we're researching how to help her from the wrong angle?"
"She's not happy," Buffy said. Her sentences were coming in short, monotonous bursts as she tried to sort through the confusion crowding her mind. "She should be happy."
"We know that, sweetie. That's why we're trying to find something here that will help her. And we will," Tara affirmed in her most reassuring voice.
"Buffy, you knew this would be a risk with bringing Dawn back," Giles reminded her gently. "And you of all people should be able to understand, since you yourself have gone through much the same thing only a couple of years ago. Dawn just needs time to adjust."
"She's had a month. She should be showing some progress by now. I think we made a mistake," she repeated.
"You can't just give up on her!" Xander exploded.
"Xander's right," Willow chimed in. "Just beacuse she's taking a little time to adjust, doesn't mean we should just lose hope, make her do it on her own. We're here, Buffy, and we're doing everything we can to help her, but if her own sister's going to just give up on her-"
"I'm not!" Buffy cried. "I just. . . think we should've put a little more planning into it before we just went ahead and resurrected Dawn."
"But, it's us," Xander's nose was wrinkled in confusion. "We never put any more planning into anything, Buff. You know that. Sometimes we even skip the whole planning bit altogether."
Buffy stared at her friends for a minute, then ducked her head a little. Maybe they were right. Maybe she was giving up on Dawn prematurely. What kind of sister would do something like that? It was her; she was wrong and Dawn would be fine sometime soon and then she would laugh at herself for ever thinking something so ridiculous.
"You're right. She just needs more time."
* * * * *