Sorry for the delay - I'll try to get this one moving again on a regular basis. Remember, Three for a Girl is the third part of the Magpie series that started with One for Sorrow.
Chapter 8 – Progress at a Cost
He hasn't given us details, but it seems that Westgate's got a lead on someone above him who's in league with the followers of Blar. He managed to get the information as a result of researching the personnel involved in the attempted snatch of Dawson. He's following that lead and trying to find any others who might be involved.
We, on the other hand, have had almost no luck with Dawson. She's been determined not to say anything, and standard truth spells don't work because she seems to be able to almost switch off. It's as if she can't hear the questions, and therefore, she's not compelled to answer. Willow's been working that problem for days already, gradually putting together more and more potent combinations of magics hoping to break through the barrier. I think tonight's our last hope. As it is, Willow's nervous with this latest idea, and has had to get it checked out thoroughly by Jenna. I can see that Jenna's concerned by the power behind the spell, but she knows, as do the rest of us, that anything less just won't succeed.
We agreed earlier that we'd all meet back at the mansion, and as it was my stint there anyway this afternoon, I've been immersed in some books in the room next to the one that houses Dawson's cage.
I don't get any pleasure out of seeing her in that thing. We've given her a number of 'comforts' - a folding bed, blankets, and we make sure she's got privacy to use the pot we've left. She's fed regularly, and given water, but she's eaten little since she arrived. I think she's convinced that we're going to try to poison her, and nothing we can do will persuade her otherwise.
I check my watch, noting that only two minutes have gone by since the last time I looked. I put down the book in my hand with a sigh. Useful as the information within it might be, the Chronicles of D'mansk are written in the sloppiest Latin it's ever been my misfortune to read. It's a translation of a much older text which was found by a minor noble in Romania four hundred years ago. Unfortunately, the original was lost again almost as soon as it was translated, and this travesty is all we've got left. The only reason I've been ploughing through it is because it's purported to have a peculiarly powerful truth spell buried in its depths. From what I've read, it should stay buried.
I hear footsteps behind me, and I start despite the fact that Willow's put so many wards around this building that no one she hasn't approved can even see the building, much less get into it.
It's Xander, still dressed for work, and with a bag of some sort of fast food. He immediately sits down at the table and pulls a Styrofoam container from the bag, eating its contents as though he hasn't eaten in a while.
"Want one?" he offers between bites. "I suppose I should offer one to our guest, but there're a couple more in there."
I decline the offer, and turn away in time to see Willow arriving with Jenna. Willow looks pale, and I glance at Jenna, looking for some sort of reassurance, but she either doesn't see or decides not to impart any information.
"You all set?" Xander asks, wiping crumbs and ketchup from around his mouth.
"As I'll ever be," Willow replies, moving directly into the next room. Jenna follows closely on her heels, and Xander and I follow behind.
Dawson seems not to have moved since I last checked her. She's lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling. When she sees it's all of us this time, she sits and watches us carefully. She sneers when she spots Willow preparing for another spell.
"I'll say this much for you," she admits. "You don't give up. You know your magic won't work on me, yet you keep trying. My family was chosen for the service of Blar because of our special abilities. We are resistant to magics of all sorts, and we have extreme powers of concentration. I'll just shut out whatever you throw at me again. And you're running out of time. Sooner or later, they'll find where you've got me, and I'll be rescued. When that happens, you'll all be destroyed."
"Yeah, yeah, heard it all before," Xander tells her, approaching the cage and putting a Styrofoam container between the bars to leave her food inside the cage.
She eyes it suspiciously, and then ignores it.
Willow signals that she's ready, and immediately begins, first with the spell to diminish Dawson's will, and then with the strongest truth spell she can find. She takes Jenna's hand at one point, and it appears that it's some sort of pre-arranged signal, as Jenna takes over the chanting which I recognise as being part of the truth spell. It seems that the will-weakening aspect of things is being fought and Willow needs to concentrate on it.
I stand in front of Dawson, and immediately spot the differences from our previous attempts. Before, Dawson would just sit, her eyes closed, looking for all the world as though she was simply indulging in a spot of meditation. This time, her posture is tense and rigid, and there's a sheen of sweat on her face despite the cool air that pervades this building. I take it as a good sign, and so I begin my questions.
"Tell me the names of those who follow Blar who are involved in the Defenders," I demand quietly.
She tenses further, and I spot a trembling in her limbs. I hear Willow gasp, and I spin around to see what's happening, but apart from the fact that she's got a matching sheen on her face, I see nothing to alarm me, and so I turn back to Dawson and repeat my demand.
And this time, she answers. She gives us three names, two of which, judging by the ranks she assigns, are quite junior, but the third, as Westgate suspected, is a senior officer. I continue with my requests for information, insisting each time that she tells me everything she knows. Dawson tries to resist throughout, and by the time I've got the information I need, she's shaking as if gripped by a terrible fever. I nod to Willow to finish, and with one last gasp, Willow's head hits the table, and I turn to see Dawson collapsing in a heap on the floor.
Xander rushes to Willow's side, and I approach Dawson as closely as the bars will allow, wondering if I dare go in to check her vital signs. I watch carefully, unable to see any sign of life. I glance behind me to see how Willow's doing, and to my surprise, I find her sobbing softly. Forgetting about our captive, I rush over to her, questioning Xander with my eyes.
"Don't know what happened," he answers. "She seemed to pass out, then she started crying. She hasn't said anything."
It's only then that I spot Jenna's face. She's so pale she looks more like a vampire than a human.
"What happened?" I demand.
"She's gone," Jenna replies.
"Who? Dawson? Is she dead?"
"Dawson," Jenna agrees, but Willow interrupts.
"Not dead, just gone."
"What do you mean? How is she gone?"
"Her mind," Jenna supplies. "Her mind just went 'snap'. It's like it just shattered into pieces, and she's not there any more."
I look at the two women, not convinced I believe what they're saying, but unable to doubt the sincerity of their belief.
"Xander, come with me," I demand, returning to the cage.
He follows me, ready to back me up when I open the cage. I do so, walking cautiously towards the prone figure. As I get close, she moves suddenly, her head turning around to face me, and I start, taken by surprise. When I'm sure that the movement doesn't seem threatening, I continue, standing over her so I can see her face.
It doesn't look like the same person. She has the same colouring, shape of face, nothing like that has changed, but I would never have recognised her. Gone is the sneering, supercilious expression that I've come to associate with her. In its place is a face so blank it would look out of place on a very young child. She looks at me without recognition or reaction of any sort. She makes no attempt to escape despite the open door behind me. Before, Xander's presence wouldn't have stopped her at least trying.
I really don't know what to do now, so I leave the cage and lock it behind me. As I turn the key, I consider the fact that it seems totally unnecessary, but then it also seems harmless in the circumstances.
I walk back to Willow and Jenna, hoping they'll be recovered enough to explain.
"What happened?" I ask, trying to keep the concern I feel out of my tone.
Willow's face is damp with tears, and she looks right at me with her eyes that don't see my face.
"She did it. She chose to destroy her mind. I knew something was happening – she was fighting the spell, but I expected that. But it was different this time. She wasn't just fighting the truth spell, it went deeper, but I didn't understand until it was too late. As soon as I throttled back on the power for the will suppression, she was there, in my mind, and she made me feel everything as she just switched off. It was horrible, Giles."
She starts to sob again, and Xander takes her in his arms.
"Did you feel it too?" I ask Jenna.
"I got some of it, but not all. She aimed her thoughts at Willow, I just caught what Willow passed on. But it was her choice – Dawson's choice."
"But why? If we've already discovered everything we needed to, why would she do it?"
And as I ask the question, I answer it.
"Because there's more. There's something else, and she was afraid we'd get that too."
-----
She made the decision. It wasn't me. I keep repeating the words in my head, but it doesn't make any difference. Logic doesn't help me this time; I feel responsible for Dawson's state. Guilt is something I've become familiar with recently, and another major dose is the last thing I need, but reason just flew out the window. I think the only one who understands why I feel the way I do is Jenna, and that's because she felt it along with me; she felt the snapping of the connections in a human mind that led to something else – a human body without independent thoughts.
Giles and Xander decided what to do with her. They've taken her to the local hospital where they're going to spin a tale of finding her wandering the streets. And, of course, being Sunnydale, no one's going to raise an eyebrow. They argued that we couldn't keep looking after her indefinitely, and they're right, but it still feels wrong. Giles is going to contact Westgate when they're done.
Jenna hasn't left my side since it happened. We packed up at the mansion, and got back here where she's made me some tea, but it really hasn't helped. Maybe, with time, I'll feel better. Maybe.
I wonder whether I feel worse purely because it's my own worst nightmare – losing my mind. And not in the sense of still working just not the same way everyone else's does. Her mind simply doesn't exist any more in any sense beyond the automatic functions, and who knows how many of them might have been affected too. We all knew she was fanatical, but to be able to do that to herself ... that's just ... words couldn't describe how I feel about that. Yes, words, failing Willow Rosenberg.
Jenna comes back into the room, and there's a perplexed frown on her face. I ask her what's wrong, but she just shrugs it off. I go to my laptop just for the sake of doing something ... anything useful. Just to take my mind off the horror of this afternoon.
How did things get so horrible? In the early days, we faced vampires and whatever, but there weren't any doubts. We were right and they were wrong, and we did what we had to do. It was hard, sometimes, and things didn't always work out the way we hoped they would. Now? Everything's grey. Evil wears a human face and I know I'm not the white hat I once thought I was. Everything's muddled and dirtied.
I think about Buffy. She got it. Before the rest of us. She knew things were muddy. I suppose having to send Angel to Hell might have been part of it, but she got it. And now, she's the one who's got a chance to live normally for a while – away from the Hellmouth. She's the one with a partner who loves her and a child of her own. I just wonder how they're doing.