For me, this is a prompt update. I'm taking eight classes and starting to wonder just how stupid I was to do something like that. Marching band takes 28 hours/week (I counted) and the next two weekends will be spent in Indianapolis, at the Bands of America Regionals/Nationals. But I'm sure all of you fine people also have better, more productive things to be doing, so I thank you. For being a little number on my hit counter, nad letting me know that someone is really reading this thing.
You know, the lighter side of sarcasm is really lost in print. I really do appreciate everyone who reads this, and the ones that leave their mark on my review board earn a special place in my heart.
~Star Mouse"
@ @ @
For the sake of sanity all round, as well as the plot flow, we're going to skip all the hand~wringing and Scooby debate over the logic of Marion's theory and the wisdom of Dawn's decision. Let's say all make good arguments, leaving just enough doubt to keep tensions high, but everyone eventually agrees that this may be the best option.
The gathering of a demon army is getting even more obvious, now. Spike's been noticing a huge influx of creatures of the night, and strange rumours besides.
@ @ @
Dawn looked up at the door click, still holding Buffy's hand.
Marion and Willow hurried in, the punk Watcher with a leather satchel slung over her shoulder.
"Okay, pet. You're ready?" She pulled the bag from her shoulder and set it on the hospital bed, by Buffy's hip. "We should have about twenty minutes of privacy before nurses start coming in asking about the smoke."
Willow pulled four pillar candles from beneath her bulky jacket.
"Dawnie, are you sure you want to do this?"
"Giles said it makes sense. I think it makes sense. Buffy's done worse for me. Yeah, I'm sure."
Marion bit her lip, glanced at Willow, and nodded. "Alright. Dawn, you have to be in physical contact with the focus. So, ah, get on the bed with Buffy. Will, pass us the lighter."
Willow pulled a silver canister lighter from her pocket, lit the candles, then tossed it to Marion.
Dawn gingerly lied down on the narrow bed next to her sister, and took her limp hand in hers.
Marion pulled a steel wool pouch from the satchel, obviously worried about time constraints. She fooshed the lighter and held it under the metal ring pouch, letting it dangle by a leather cord.
"Connectors," she whispered. "Ties that bind; strengthen, draw tight. Connectors. Ties that bind..."
Willow stood carefully, a sputtering candle in each hand. She nodded Dawn all the encouragement she could spare, and set the candles on either side of the plastic headboard.
She gently took Buffy's hands from Dawn's, and rested them against the candles. She arranged the Slayer's fingers so that they were gripping the pillars. Dawn brought her hand up to Buffy's neck, in order to keep contact, and settled back down again, leaning against her sister, watching the witches work.
Marion's chanting got louder, and Willow turned away from the bed and joined her, down a fifth, adding timbre to the spell.
Dawn's eyes darted around the room, looking for some indication of power building. All there was were the flickering, sputtering candles. And that could have just been the damp.
Just then, the chant shifted, and she didn't need outward signs of magic. She could feel the power in her gut. Marion's voice rose until she was screaming into the void that all the room's occupant's could feel in their guts.
"....that bind; strengthen, draw tight. Connectors, pull tight! Connectors, pull! Connectors! Guide this traveller through the veil! Guide this traveller! Guide her true, into the abyss and out! Guide her! Connectors, now!"
The world fell away like an elevator plunging down the shaft. In her mind, Dawn was falling with it, and the noise was deafening. She thought there were voices in the garble, but it all blended into static and it was tearing her head apart.
"...Deathforgiveyourgiftbeneathyoubruisedangelcarriedyourheartonegirlin allthecouragehienaneverbefriendsbeneathmehappymealssosorrydeathwi shcaptaincardboardbrazilshowyoubitchgoingthroughtheaureliusheavencal lsyoutaralightattheendofthewillowspikewhyicouldneverloveyou..."
In the real world, Dawn spasmed and shook the bed. Marion stopped chanting and lunged forward to keep the teenager's twitching arm in contact with Buffy's skin. She shot Willow a frantic look.
"This shouldn't be happening! The book didn't say anything about physical stress! I think she's having trouble getting in."
Willow grabbed the water pitcher from the bedside table, and held it undecidedly over the candle by Buffy's left hand. "Should we abort?"
Marion bit her lip, jerking as she fought to keep Dawn's hand on Buffy's neck. If Dawn got hurt-- If they really were close--"...No. Give it a min, pet. It--it may be just something to do with the demon. I'm not sure. If--"
The pillar candle went flying, knocking the pitcher out of Willow's hand.
Just as Marion was registering the shattering noise, something hit her in the temple, and things went confusing.
"Marion!" Willow wracked her brain for something to calm out of control elements in a spell like this. Then she realized the candle hadn't launched itself.
It had been thrown.
Her startled gaze landed on Buffy, who was no longer sleeping.
Oh, God.
"Willow. How nice to see you again." Buffy sat up a little, Dawn still convulsing against her, and Marion sprawled over her torso. Her gaze landed on the remaining candle, and she gripped it for real.
"Suffered a bit of a relapse, I see."
Willow backed away, desperately reviewing her options and throwing them out, one by one.
"You're not Buffy," she whispered, trying to stall.
Non-Buffy smiled wryly. Or was it a smirk? She hefted the candle, spilling wax, and letting the flame burn sideways away from the wick.
"No," she said. The candle came down hard on Dawn's neck, and her other arm came up quickly, eliciting a snap from the teenager's own. Dawn's shaking grew more violent as physical pain was added to the mental beating. Buffy dropped the candle, and hopped out of bed without a backward glance. "I'm not." She headed for the door.
As she passed Willow, she shook her finger at her, as if considering. "But I'm not gonna deal with you right now. Too spooky, with the witchcraft thing. But don't get me wrong." She lashed out suddenly, sending Willow to the floor with a well~aimed kick to the gut.
"I'm not afraid of you. Just on a tight schedule."
Willow gasped for breath, leaning against the wall. Oh, God.
Marion stirred, and groaned. "What~" She stopped. "Where's the Slayer gone?"
Willow coughed a little, and Marion's head shot round. "Willow! Are you all right? What's happened?"
Willow blinked and swallowed. "Oh, God."
@ @ @
Spike was nursing a bottle of something a bit like paint thinner when the phone trilled. His hand wandered over to it and he snapped it open, pulling it slowly up to his ear.
"'ello?"
"Spike! Get down to the hospital. Something's happened. It's Dawn."
@ @ @
A wine flute, the sparkling contents swirled with an expert hand. The kind of hand that will swirl such a drink for quite a long time, just to work up the appetite to drink.
Or to deal with more important matters.
"Slayers."
The minion groveled, as good minions tend to do, but made no comment. His master wasn't finished yet.
The business~suited man contemplated his goblet a moment, then looked up, at the distance, not the messenger.
"You have brought us to a town with not one but two Slayers. Am I the only one that sees the problem in this situation?"
The hapless bearer of bad tidings risked a glance at his boss.
"Uh, you did want a place with lots of demons to . . .recruit."
"Yes. At first glance, the Hellmouth does seem like the perfect place to launch operations. At first glance," he restated.
He finally took a sip of the drink in his hand, and something about the way it moves suggests that it is quite a bit thicker than wine or water.
"At second glance, however --this is providing that my scouts ever actually take a second glance, of course-- one would realize that a location which has been adopted by multiple Vampire Slayers might not be the best place to assemble an army to conquer them. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Oh, I don't know," a voice called from near the entrance. A small blonde figure stepped out of the shadows, staying just hidden enough to still reek of danger.
"Sounds pretty convenient, to me."
The business suit regarded her with disinterest. "Michael, were you not also in charge of posting guards along the perimeter?"
The minion fishmouthed for a second. "Uh, I did."
The blonde nodded, coming out of the shadows. She was wearing green hospital pajamas, the ones they give you if you're going to be enjoying an extended stay.
"Oh, I saw them." She brandished a tree branch. "Then they went away."
The vampire in the suit bit his cheek in contemplation, then set his glass down. "I see. What a dreadful waste of resources. So, having fought your way to the inner sanctum, do you expect to dispatch me as well?"
She smirked, and he was reminded of someone else he'd once encountered. "I didn't come to kill you, sillyhead." The minions in the room cringed at the informality, and saw her catch the reflex. She met his eyes, and he saw two as cold as his own.
"I came to join you."
"Mm. Killing my followers to earn my trust... Yes, I think I can see how that would seem like a good idea to some people this late at night. I'm not impressed. And you're going to be dead very shortly."
There was a brief scuffle as three minions darted forward to match word with deed.
Then the dust cleared.
The blonde tapped the tree branch on the concrete floor, dislodging grains of what looked like grey sand. The business suit blinked.
"I must say: now I'm impressed."
Another smirk. "So I'm in?"
"Not so quickly, little one. There's still the unresolved and oddly unmentioned factor of a motive."
She shrugged. "Who needs a motive? It's pretty simple. I want to be on the winning side. I couldn't walk the sewers for fifteen minutes without sensing the shift to your corner. You're building up some pretty major fighting power here. You realize the resistance you're going to face amounts to a tiny group of twenty~something college drop~outs? You - with how many thousand followers, when all the imports arrive-- will be pitted against the cast of Friends. Not really stressing about the outcome, here. I figure the rewards at the end will be better the earlier I get in on the action."
"And yet you're human," he stated, but in read more as a question. He was having trouble getting a handle on that. "There must be something more than simple scavenger's instincts."
"Let's just say, among other things ...I'm looking into eternal life, and I'd like you to owe me something before I ask you to grant it."
He was intrigued by the confession, but felt the need to retort, somehow.
"Don't like being indebted?"
She smiled ...cheekily? "Don't want to trust you to kill me properly unless you know me personally."
@ @ @
"When did this happen?" Spike asked flatly, staring at Dawn's unconscious form.
"Two hours ago. The MindDiving attempted by Marion and Willow went a bit ...awry. Ms. Krumpht says Dawn had a lot more trouble getting into Buffy's mind than they had anticipated. Apparently the attempted intrusion was enough to jolt her awake, but."
"It wasn't Buffy."
Giles shook his head. "Judging by appearances, I'd say not. The break in the arm was clean, and she has some deep bruising on her neck, but not anything to paralize her, thank God. They've knocked her out, until the pain eases a bit."
Spike nodded slowly. "Where are they?"
"With Birdie, running tracking spells and such to locate her before she can do any damage."
Spike looked back down at Dawn.
"Too late."
@ @ @
"Nothing. All we found was nothing."
"I'll keep looking."
"It's no use. We don't have the materials to cast any truly successful search spells."
Birdie sighed. "I'll keep patrolling. You two should get some rest, recover from today's injuries. You can start again in the morning."
Willow and Marion nodded. "Perhaps that would be wise," the Watcher admitted.
Birdie and Willow left, and Marion clicked the Summer's front door shut.
It was so quiet in this house.
And the Slayer was on the loose, not in a good way.
And there was an army building just outside town.
The Key was unconscious, in a neck brace and an arm cast.
Marion closed her eyes. They needed help.
She blinked her eyes open and pulled her address book out of her purse on the way to the wall phone in the kitchen.
She flipped through until she had found what she was looking for, and dialed the twelve digits.
It rang.
The other line was answered. Marion listened through the receptionist's greeting, then glanced down at the page again.
"This is Field Watcher Marion Calder Krumpht, requesting immediate contact with Lord Calvin."
Pause. She looked back down at the page.
"076538671--XEBU."
Pause. "Thank you."
Longer pause, impatient shuffling of feet, tapping of blue fingernails on wall cradle, British swearing under breath.
Then: "Yes, thank you for agreeing to speak with me, sir. I assure you this is a matter of utmost imp--"
Pause. "Uh, just fine, from my perspective, I suppose."
Pause. Sigh. "Sunny, about 87 this last week."
Pause. "Yes. Thank you. Sir, I realize when I was assigned to this post that I was told to be ready for all types of demons and chaos, but I really didn't expect such an extent. ...There's an army massing. The Slayer's possessed and out of control. Birdie cannot handle this situation herself, and I fear that against such odds I will not be of much assistance either."
Pause.
"Well, frankly, I want you to send reinforcements."
Pause.
"The Slayers."
@ @ @
Need I remind you that I don't have (and don't want) a blessed clue when it comes to 'witchcraft'? I certainly hope not. Like I said: Candles. And herbs. Something about herbs.
Hope everyone's enjoying the plot, and not having too much trouble following it. You know I love the reviews.
~Star Mouse